Cliff stared at the young wiggentree sapling in the corner, knowing full well it wasn’t within his budget, despite how much he wanted a new, magical piece of greenery to plant on the farm. This one was special - a wiggentree was said to give protection from dark creatures if the trunk was being touched. While he rarely came in contact with such creatures, it was something he found he wanted, just in case. He’d been circling it, staring at it with a wonder in his eyes that was hard to miss, while speculating how he could sneak it out of the show without anyone seeing.

(He couldn’t, he quickly realized. That was a damn shame.)

Shuffling over to it to stand in front of it, Cliff reached out to brush his fingers against one of the bright green sapling buds attached to a branch, before a pinch of a bowtruckle latched onto his pinky finger. He blinked down at it and it seemed to frown at him, as if he’d been the one harming it. Cliff furrowed his eyebrows together.

“Shit!” He squeaked as soon as the pain registered, flinging the tiny twig-like being flying across the flower show and directly onto a young woman. “Heads up!” Cliff grimaced as he shook his hand to lessen the sting. He hated bowtruckles and their constant need to be in magical trees. He'd step on it and squash it if given the chance, although he supposed other people around the show wouldn't appreciate that kind of violence toward an "innocent creature."

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