The ruddy brown and spikey pelted puppilliar Mateo cautiously approached the fortune teller's stall. He quietly took in the decorations and noticed a faint, unfamiliar but some how comforting smell. He couldn't place it however, maybe it was just what magic smelt like? Mateo knew magic existed, and even at a glance he could tell that Stella meant no harm, but still it troubled him. The uncertainty, the mystery, and in the case of fortune telling, the hint of instrusiveness that accompanied it...
