Before long, Maji had caught up with her at the entrace to the caverns. Zeira, who was resing again herself, followed the fenling with her eyes as Maji laid in the entrace. "Any luck?" The werecain asked.
She wasn't going to jump to getting back into the shade, and for ones who weren't used to spending their time deep in caves, sunlight was like one of those sticky things humans use to catch pesky bugs.
So she wanted to know the information collected before it was actually put to use.
((Yeah. Thats why I told you
It shouln't be too much of a problem, though, 'cause I'm going to see a cousin who's an active member here and if overnight shipping works like they say it does, I should be able to get my good phone that I can use to get on.))
You may call, you may call
But the little black cats won't hear you.
The little black cats are maddened
By the bright green light of the moon;
They are whirling and running and hiding,
They are wild who were once so confiding,
They are crazed when the moon is riding
You will not catch the kittens soon.
They care not for saucers of milk,
They think not of pillows of silk;
Your softest, crooningest call
Is less than the buzzing of flies.
They are seeing more than you see,
They are hearing more than you hear,
And out of the darkness they peer.
With a goblin light in their eyes!
The Bad Kitties
By Elizabeth Coatsworth