Of course as soon as the door to the wagon was opened poor Hagatha was mobbed by moggies who definitely did not adhere to strict allergen control protocol. Oh and Song, who was probably more energetic in her greetings than the cats.

Hagatha did her best bless her, despite the miserably dripping eyes, and nose doing an impersonation of a waterfall to accommodate the attentions of a trio of additional allergen machines, who in that unerring manner cats have when they find somebody who reacts like that while not having the heart to push them away were smothering her with attention. While she heroically held her head high through the hated histamine haze from hell in order to make sure that every friendly feline got fuss.

The cats were quite a unique little mob all on their own. First off there was Inky, who was sort of a black cat. To the point where it was questionable whether it was a black cat, or just a void that happened to be the correct shape and size for a cat. They were definite proof though that if you stare into the abyss the abyss purrs back.

Due to an interesting accident involving a potion as a kitten Inky even had black beans, but if you looked at his coat long enough you almost felt like it had a hint of really really really really dark blue mixed in. The only splash of colour on Inky other than that was due to getting into the glimmer potions. His eyes looked like tiny novas. Overall it was unsettling, but if you were to meet him he would quickly settle. He was the kind of moggy who would jump into a total strangers lap and demand fuss without a moments hesitation.

Blinky on the other hand was half wildcat, Wormwood really disliked that name given that he only had a singular eye. But when she rescued him from his former home he was already named, and she really didn’t want to make things even more complicated for him than they already were. So Blinky he remained, and with the exception of Hagatha and Wormwood he wouldn’t even look at another human being.

He was solid and boxy, and one didn’t have to witness him swinging open a door and leaving it that way to know he was born in a barn.

Then there was Clyde, and Clyde was,........Well... Clyde. He was your typical cat in every sense of the word, fitting expertly with the description of the average witches cat. The only unusual thing about him was his meow, which was more like a nyan. (Hestia often joked she had found him by the docks and he had picked up a bit of an accent.) He was a bit standoffish, and as befits a cat particularly particular about food products.

Hagatha pushed through though and continued petting the feline horde, who was unexpectedly joined by Rascal, (who was considerate enough to flame up and burn off a little bit of the dander lingering in the air, which being smarter than the average cat he could tell was pure hell for her.)

“Ohhh I’m glad you’re OK Haggy, The speed you were going you were lucky you landed on your head. Landing feet first like that doesn’t bear thinking about. How was the helmet by the way? Did the enchantment hold? Oh I guess so or you wouldn’t be here, you’d be all ohhh bollocks SPLAT, and we’d all be sad. So I’m glad that didn’t happen, come here and give me a hug”

Hagatha in that dazed sense of bemusement that was a distinct to people like Song accepted the crushing embrace. Briefly pondering why her parents never chose the name Brook instead of Song. She adored that girl but Brook was an infinitely better fit given the non stop babbling. But the hug felt nice, and she was okay with that, as she carefully started to process the wall of words she had just encountered. Time was of the essence here if she took too long the second wave would hit and she’d be thinking up answers all week.

“Well the hat held stronger than ever, the chin strap was a definite advantage, I just wish we could do something about the lawn darting issue. If The Princesses hadn’t happened by and dug me out it would have taken hours to unbury myself.” She exclaimed. Trying not to shudder remembering the horrible moment when an earthworm almost crawled up her nostril. If she hadn’t done her best blowing out there to deter the terrifyingly looming L. Terrestis then it would have picked her nose for her, a thought she was not particularly fond of. (Would you be? Nose picking always was and always should remain a solo activity, and like any activity involving orifices of any kind consent is important.)

“Wait wait wait, did you say Princesses? As in Plural Princess? They were Princesses, ohmigosh I was so rude, I hope they weren’t offended. Do you think they were offended? Gosh I hope not, I’d hate that.”

“Song dear remember to breathe, you’re turning purple, now breathe with me... in... and out..... in..... out, and relax.”

It took more than a few moments for Song to calm herself, her family were staunch royalists, and while she definitely was not one herself it is hard to break that level of conditioning.

“Now you calm now?” Hagatha enquired.

Song merely nodded (the thing about people who talk a lot is they often have intermissions once they are a little calmer. That careful moment when their overactive brains take a few moments to unpack.)

“Thanks for finding me” Hagatha said. “With the speed I was going if you missed my descent arc it must have taken you forever to figure it out, I appreciate it.”

“Like we’d leave you like that, lawn darting isn’t fun, maybe I should design some kind of long pants that are a little more solid and less embarrassing for under the dress.”

Having recently been bloomers up in the middle of a field Hagatha had to agree that sounded like a really good plan.