“I sat down next to her on the couch. It was time to start telling the truth. But I couldn’t just dive into the heart of the matter, so I started with the little things. I told her that the gnomes from her childhood dreams were actually real and from her mother’s side of the family.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on, that’s where you started?” the Evaine gaped at Timmens then massaged her temple “Dimmie, when I encouraged you to start small, I didn’t mean literally discuss the small creatures first.”
Timmens blinked at Evaine for a few seconds, “You didn’t?”
Evaine breathed deeply, “Tell me that’s all you did, please.”
Timmens tilted his head in a bird like stiltedness, “Of course not. She didn’t believe me, I had to take her through the door.”
Hamish yelped from his den, “You did what?”
“This, this right here is why you can’t leave him alone!” Evaine shouted over her shoulder, hands gesturing forcefully in Timmens direction, “I told you Hamish, Dimmie wasn’t ready.”
Hamish came stomping into the kitchen, “Stop calling him that.”
Evaine crossed her arms over her chest, face pressed into a pout, “Well the name fits doesn’t it.”
Hamish waved her off then leaned in almost nose to nose with the slow witted messenger, “Now Timmens my boy, where exactly did you last see our little Petunia.”
Timmens tipped up his chin and thought for a moment “I believe she fell somewhere along the witches brew.”
Hamish jolted up with a loud curse.
“And this is why messenger pigeons make terrible humans!” Evaine moaned into her hands. “You should have gone yourself Hamish. This is on your head too.”
“I know!” the burly old man growled. His meaty fist grabbed Timmens collar and yanked the humanoid to his feet, “You’re gonna take me to that swamp and show me exactly where she fell.”