It took everything in Cliff not to roll his eyes as he watched her fawn over the bowtruckle, as if it was anything special. It had pinched him and the stupid thing was getting the special treatment. He stuck his tongue out at it for good measure as it was dropping into her pocket. Hopefully she’d clip its sharp twigs or tie the tiny monster’s limbs togethers to keep it from attacking someone else.

“I know. I deal with the stupid things every day of my life.” Cliff grunted, crossing his arms. Perhaps not every day, but enough times that magical creatures were a dead giveaway that the tree had some magical quality. “I own a tree farm. To make brooms and wands and shi-things.” As if he owed her any sort of explanation. She probably knew a lot more about plants and trees than he did, but he hated being shown up by anyone.

He glanced at the tree next to him and nodded. “Yeah. The wiggentree. Was considering buying it for the properties because my sister is an idiot who brings weird creatures home all the time. One day she’s gonna kill us.” Not that Clifford Hillicker had any money to spare. If he could stick it under his shirt and carry it out without being noticed, he would.

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