The Duo Freigns Them In

As the cold settled into Burrowgatory, so did a sense of urgency in Hutch. Winter brought about a window of limited opportunity. Sure, it was the only season freign had been found in the wild at all, but that didn’t speak much to their availability even in the frosty season. Beyond being elusive, they were also difficult to tame.

I might want to catch more than one, Hutch realized as they pulled on a coat. They’d had imps - especially freign - escape on them before. May as well play it safe if the opportunity presents itself. Rowdy and rambunctious little things.

Once they were done double checking that everything was as it should be in the Imporium, Hutch picked up their supply pack and rushed out the door. They slowed as they grew nearer the last space where they’d heard of freign being sighted. With the amount of work it would take to even catch a single freign, they couldn’t afford to be reckless. If the imps were scared off, who knew when and where Hutch would find more? The thought made their ears tense.

Finally on the outskirts of town, Hutch could find a hiding place to watch for imps. They tugged the coat closer around their body. They could be there a while. Hopefully they were prepared enough. It was still early in the season, after all. It would be getting colder still in the days to come. If they weren’t prepared now, then... well, the rest of the season might be difficult.

At least that meant they had plenty of time to figure out just how to go about this. Well - Hutch hoped that that was what that meant. It could be tricky to gauge things accurately when it came to freigns. Imps in general, but especially freigns.

“Lookin’ a bit cold there, Hutch,” mused a familiar voice. Hushed though it was, it still carried a loud energy and an unmistakakble warmth about it.

Hutch felt dread sink in their stomach.

Readjusting their glasses and turning to look at the intruder, Hutch gave a mildly inquisitive tilt of their head. “What brings you out this far, Quince?,” they asked quietly.

“Same as you, I imagine,” she chirped. Carefully putting down a basket, she settled in next to Hutch. As she did so, they felt their hair and fur prickle as if protesting the company.

“Don’t you have a business to run? Making desserts and selling your ‘pedigrees’?”

“What about your Imporium?,” she returned in good humor. “I think you and I both know this’ll be good for both our businesses.”

“Imps don’t breed,” Hutch objected.

“No, but I’m sure we’ll figure something out from this. Maybe the freign will warm up to us, and make it easier for us to catch them.”

Hutch couldn’t help but doubt that, though they didn’t say anything for a bit. They were making their peace with today’s quiet outing being made into a paired activity.

With that, the two stayed quiet for a while. Eventually, Hutch found themself tucking their ears into their coat for a little extra warmth, and breathing hot air into their scarf to warm their nose. Bring a warmer scarf next time, they noted.

As they plotted their next expedition’s preparations, something warm came up under their nose, making them jolt back with surprise. They heard Quince laugh as the smell of chocolate wafted through the scarf’s fabric. Their eyes finally caught the thermos that had been extended towards their face, and they darted their inquisitive gaze to Quince.

“You looked cold,” she mused. “Don’t worry, don’t worry - I figured you’d be out here, so I brought enough for us and the freigns.”

“Thank you,” Hutch murmured, cautiously taking the thermos and taking a timid sip. The sweet and warm relief of the chocolate coursed through their body, and they were forced to remember Quince’s storied past of meal preparation.

Her last words tossed about in their mind. And the freigns.

“Do you have a plan of what you’re going to... well, turn them into?”

“I’ll let them figure that out,” she answered nonchalantly. “I’m not really sure what the freigns will like to eat - that’s part of the fun when we catch a few.”

When? Well, they had to admire her optimism. Nudging their glasses upwards to avoid the fogging, Hutch took a sip of cocoa and gave a thoughtful hum in response (and as an excuse to not give a more proper reply).

As they did so, they could see the pink blur of Quince slowly moving in their peripheral vision. “Don’t go too far,” they called the best they could while being quiet. After all, she still had her basket of stuff there! They reasoned that she must just need to stretch her legs or spend some energy or something. Fortunately, I’m used to this. A strange thing to take pride in, maybe, but it was their work and their work was their pride.

She was back quickly, though, and Hutch glanced up at her with confusion.

“I think I hear them,” she whispered, eyes trained on... something.

Hutch closed the thermos and sat up again, following her eyes. Of course.

Quince’s brief departure was to set up a picnic blanket, with plates of various sweets scattered about.

“It’ll be harder to catch them if too many are in the same spot,” they muttered.

She opened her mouth to respond to Hutch - they could tell by the way she inhaled - but quickly shut it again as the little black, antlered head of a freign came into view. Warily, skeptically, the freign approached the sugary feast. With a few sniffs, it stepped away.

Hutch could hear Quince click her tongue in frustration, and they resisted the urge to chuckle. With a deep inhale, they readied their net and crept along the bushes as the freign strayed further and further from the thicket it had come from. To their surprise, they heard twice the frustration they expected as the net came down over the freign.

Looking up, it seemed Quince snagged one of her own from the picnic. They nodded at each other, and quickly darted back to their base (so to speak) to get the imps into carriers. To Hutch’s own surprise, the smell of the desserts and possibly the sound of the surprised freign attracted more.

Of course, they missed several, but they also caught more than expected.

The forest began to dim, the pair begrudgingly decided to call it a night. As they walked towards their homes, Hutch could see Quince sneaking treats to the first freign she caught. It seemed a bit picky, though, and Hutch chuckled to themself.

“She’s going to struggle with that one,” they murmured to the freigns in the carrier. Hearing their protest, Hutch carefully inserted the tips of their fingers into the carrier’s gaps. “I promise you, I’m a friend.”

The freigns alternated methods of investigating. Some sniffed, some nipped, some rammed their horns (after which Hutch barely resisted pulling their fingers back) - until finally, they felt the familiar sensation of an imp pressing into their hand to be pet.

It’s probably trying to claim my hand, they reasoned in good humor. As they moved their index finger to pet behind what seemed to be its ear, it dashed away only to come back just as quickly.

It seemed they’d made a good impression on these imps. Hutch sighed in slight relief - maybe most of them would stay after all.