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Aimée heard a knock at the backdoor, smiling she warned her Maman;
“She’s here!” and ran to let their guests in. Treeroot had brushed her normally mattered hair, Aimée guessed she must have had a bath because her normal ‘parchment and tree sap’ smell was gone, her clothes were washed and even though being made of leaves made her look patchy, she looked nice. Max was behind her and he’d also put a lot of work into the way he looked. Blingko was weaving between Treeroot’s legs, his fur was also brushed. “Come in,” Aimée said. Treeroot, Blingko and Max stepped into the house, Treeroot’s yellow eyes dated about nervously. Aimée remembered that yellow meant she was tense. “Don’t worry,” she assured, “my family’s not to formal. You could have come in your pyjamas.” Treeroot’s eyes changed to brown.
“What’s a pyjamas?” she asked, Aimée shook her head.
“Never mind.”
“Le dîner est prêt!” Came a yell from the kitchen, the guests looked at Aimée for translation,
“Dinner’s ready.” She smiled. Aimée showed the guests to dining room and sat next to Treeroot. Papa was already sitting down,
“Papa, this is Treeroot, Treeroot this is my Papa.” They shook hands across the table.
“How’s the back?” Papa asked, Treeroot laughed nervously,
“It’s a lot better than the last time I was here.” Blingko sat on Treeroot’s lap and put his paws on the table, Papa laughed. His deep belly laughter always made Aimée feel better, no matter what.
“Look at that little guy. Does he think he’s human or something?” papa said, Treeroot smiled
“Not exactly, he’s trying to be. He’s been reading a book on manners since you invited us.”
“Blingko is very close to Alice,” Aimée pointed out, “sort of like an adopted son. She’s taught him a lot, including how to read.” Both Treeroot and Blingko suddenly sat up and sniffed the air; they could smell Maman’s cooking. Papa laughed again.
“It looks like Treeroot’s more animal than human anyway.” Maman pushed through the kitchen door, carrying the dinner plates on a silver tray. Maman saw Blingko and smiled.
“What an adorable little kitten.” She said. I’ve always wanted to see a cat blush. Aimée thought. Maman placed a plate of stake and vegies in front of Treeroot; she closed her eyes and took a big sniff. “By the look on your face I’d say it smells good.” Stated Maman. Treeroot nodded.
“Even though I can cook, it doesn’t taste much better than raw meat.” She looked down at Blingko and said something in a strange language, and Blingko replied, pointing with his paw as he spoke. Once he’d finished explaining, Treeroot picked up the fork strangely and looked up at Aimée.
“Sorry if I make a mess of this, it’s my first time using a fork.” But as she picked up the knife it was obvious she knew how to use it. Treeroot cut a piece off the meat, and as soon as she placed it in her mouth a smile spread across her face. She cut a smaller piece and gave it to Blingko.
“This is beautiful, much better than anything I’d be able to cook.” Blingko nodded in agreement. Sirens ripped through the air somewhere in the distance, Treeroot went to stand up but Aimée grabbed her shoulder. Treeroot’s brown eyes looked into Aimée’s.
“Don’t go.” Aimée pleaded, “The police can look after Canstar for one night, can’t they?” Treeroot’s eyes changed to hazel as she sat down again.
“Of course they can.” Treeroot smiled, “That’s their job.”

By the end of the night Maman had asked about Treeroot’s ‘Dissection scar’ and she told them her history. Aimée helped her when she got to the part where Shara died, and Maman looked like she’d faint half way through the story. A question popped into Aimée head;
“Where’d you find Blingko?” Treeroot was glad someone changed the subject.
“I didn’t, Spicard did. About two years ago Spicard came to my tree with a tinny newborn kitten, being gently carried in his tough jaws. He said the kitten’s mother was killed by hunters.” Blingko snuggled up against Treeroot’s chest, she looked down at him and smiled as her eyes went pink, “I took him in, and started razing him like son.”
“You did a good job.” Aimée said, “I don’t think anyone else could have done better.” Treeroot looked at Aimée and smiled as a tear slid from her purple eyes.
“Thank you.” she managed. “No one’s ever...” but she couldn’t say anything else. Blingko licked the tear from Treeroot’s chin, Treeroot clutched Blingko as if he was the most valuable thing she could ever own. Papa waited a while before asking;
“Are you interested in swards and daggers? Or do you use them because there small?” Maman rolled her eyes.
“Here we go.” Papa loved blades, it didn’t matter what kind. From under her wooden breastplate Treeroot pulled out a dagger and passed it to Papa.
“Andy made those for me, because he said my old ones were terrible. I find daggers easier to hide and carry, not to mention you can throw them when your opponent is escaping. Blades are very interesting.” Papa passed it back.
“It’s a good blade.”
“Thank you,” Treeroot said gratefully, “I have a little collection at home; you’re welcome to come and see it anytime. As long as I’m home.” She added.
“Would you like to see my collection?” Papa asked, Treeroot smiled and nodded. He took her to the basement door and swung it open; it was pitch black inside, “The light switch is at the bottom of the stairs.” Treeroot waved her hand.
“That’s alright,” she said, “I don’t need it.” And strolled down the basement steps and into the darkness smoothly, with Blingko weaving between her legs. “Wow.” Aimée heard, “What a collection!” the lights flickered on, but Treeroot was on the other side of the room, Blingko sat near the light switch proudly. Treeroot was marvelling at a pair of gantlets with a large retractable steel cat claw on the end of each finger, Papa walked up to her.
“So, what do you think?” Treeroot looked up at Papa with her hazel eyes and said,
“It’s fantastic!” Papa smiled and looked across his collection.
“There’s only one thing missing from my collection...” he said distracted,
“Dark Daggers dagger.” Aimée revealed, “Half the reason we came to Canstar was for him to at least see one.” Treeroot pulled the dagger out again and smiled, she taped Papas on the shoulder and held out her bade.
“Excuse me Mr Perkins, but this seems to be missing from your collection.” He looked at the dagger as if it were made of soled gold.
“I can’t just take it, it wouldn’t be right.” He murmured, and grabbed the closest thing: the clawed gauntlets. “I’ll trade you.” Papa and Treeroot became good friends after that.