Enola Scamander grew up at Hogwarts during the reign of Grindelwald-practically abandoned there by her older brothers-Newt and Theseus. As their fame grew rampant and their involvement in the fight against Grindelwald became public, Enola's sense of...
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Ever wonder what Picket and Steve got up to when Enola sent her leafy friend on his covert mission?
"I need you to do something for me," the voice rang out throughout the corridor "Steve has gone off to Helga knows where to discover the truth about SHIELD. I want you to follow him and report back to me. Are you up for the mission?"
The small bowtruckle was torn between his dislike for the soldier and his desire to aid the witch before him, whose eyes cried a silent plea—desperate for his help in the odd and troublesome adventure.
"If you can help me out, I suppose I could obtain some woodlice for you." He was suddenly very agreeable. "Alright, just remember, keep out of sight and observe only." Picket nodded resolutely, sliding down the witch's garment and landing gently upon the ground. "Good luck."
He waddled away down the empty corridor, his arms dragging by his sides. The mission was clearly painted in his mind's eye. 'Find Steve. Stay Hidden. Find Steve. Stay Hidden.' That was what she had said—so the little tree wanted to do everything in his power to ease the burdens of his troubled witch.
'Find Steve. Stay Hidden. Find Steve—'
His flashy costume came into sight as Picket rounded a corner, his strides purposeful yet obnoxiously loud. The soldier made great progress, the set pace a difficult match for the witch's bowtruckle, who lagged behind a good few yards. He squeaked in frustration, pushing his limbs faster to catch up with the blonde oaf.
"Squeak!"
In his needed haste, Picket veered ever too close to Steve's legs, the young twig falling over himself as he skidded to a halt. Steve was in the process of prying two steel doors apart with his hands, oblivious to the tree's insistent scramble.
The door creaked in protest before sliding open, and the soldier peered around briefly to affirm his solitude, before creeping into the awaiting storage room. Picket followed stealthy from behind, observing as Steve leaped onto a towering catwalk, which the left the dumbfounded bowtruckle hissing testily.
Picket skittered up the rail as Steve turned over crates in his search for hard evidence, landing softly upon the floor as the soldier murmured stiffly. "He was right..."
A slip of the leg had the bowtruckle tumbling, and the following squeaks were audible enough to send Steve into a frenzy. The lid closed with a bang and the blonde spangled man rounded upon Picket thusly.
Beady black eyes bore into an azure blue, the standoff a brutal match between witch's companion and American flag. The atmosphere was tense as the bowtruckle's aggressive nature revealed itself to the soldier, his teeth barred in thinly veiled threat.
"Did Enola send you?" Steve asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously upon the moving tree. His only response was a noisy raspberry in the blonde's direction. Steve bent down for better access to the bowtruckle—a mistake on his part. "Look twig—"
