“Raven!”
The booming yell of the King of Piskies, shakes every twig and leaf in Oakland.
Sweeping in, a young man bows with a flourish of his hand. “Father, you called.”
Before the King can respond Raven turns to a round woman in green and the piskling next to her, saying, “Mother you’re a morning bloom. Tulip did you borrow my crown again?”
Touching the oversized white-wood crown on her head, the piskling giggles and says, “You don’t really want it.”
“It doesn’t matter what he wants,” booms the King.
“Of course, my liege,” says Raven bowing even more extravagantly.