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Butterfly Boots Misti Wolanski

Butterfly Boots

Misti Wolanski

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Excerpt:Where is my left boot? The little doddering lady poked stone, wood, and passerby feet alike with her crooked oak cane. No wrinkles marred her shiny grey gown, though some odd stains did. How did someone get grass stains midsleeve withoutMoreExcerpt:Where is my left boot? The little doddering lady poked stone, wood, and passerby feet alike with her crooked oak cane. No wrinkles marred her shiny grey gown, though some odd stains did. How did someone get grass stains midsleeve without discoloring the hem?Kurtah Strongman glanced around, but others in the marketplace were avoiding the evidently addled faery. It be on ye foot, fael, she offered politely, hoping the faery would realize her error from the proper title.The faery shook her head, still searching the ground intently without looking at Kurtah. Im missing a boot, my leftboot.Beg pardon, but y be wearing two fine boots. Old and well-worn, yes, but they looked solid enough.Nay, lad! The lady peered around, then poked herself in the foot with the cane. She lowered her tone to whisper, This is not a boot. This is pretending to be a boot.Kurtah bit her lip. Humans mistook her for a lad often enough. What be ye right boot, fael?The woman jerked. Fael?! You dare anger the faeries by using their title on another?Kurtah caught a glimpse of herself in the faerys reflective gown: a burly peasant girl three feet tall with an inordinate amount of hair flowing out her ears. She winced. No humans dress be like at, fael.