A basket of kittens is left at the doorstep at one of the rare times that Wraithvine's portable tower is visible to those around hir. The mother had died of illness, and the person caring for them finds they don't have the skill, patience, or fortitude, to bottle feed and tend all six. Which requires getting up every couple of hours to feed them, then tending to them to get them to go to the bathroom, then keeping them warm, and feeding them again, over and over for a long period of time, until they can take solid food. -- Anon Guest
Elves only need four hours' rest. Everyone knew that. They had used that time in centuries past to learn more and do more than other intelligent creatures. Those others basically had to cheat in order to slip the Elven yoke. Nevertheless, Elves knew things and Tari knew that much.
Which was why she approached what appeared to be a humble little cottage that had sprung up overnight on the side of the road.
That sort of cottage had to contain the kind of magic he needed. Tari almost collapsed with relief when he saw the patchwork Wizarding hat atop the elegant Elven head. He held up his burden. Box, blanket, kittens and the pathetic tools he had attempted to use to save their tiny lives. "Please," he begged. "Their mam died just after the last one come out. I need t' save 'em but I'm awful at it."
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