The biggest problem with sudden, magical adoptions is the severe lack of preparation. Specifically, the lack of pants.
Three days after Pip transformed from a noisy yellow duckling into a noisy, yellow-haired toddler, he had officially run out of temporary clothes. The tiny blue overalls Luna had sent over were in the wash, leaving the newest Warlord-cub waddling around the kitchen wearing a very expensive linen tea towel held together by one of Cassian's silver cravat pins.
"Honk!" Pip chirped, flapping his downy yellow wings as he chased a rogue grape across the marble floor.
"Do not eat floor-grapes, recruit," Arjun sighed, expertly sweeping the grape up with a dustpan before Pip could reach it.
I leaned against the kitchen island, sipping my morning coffee. "We have to go to the market. He can't live in a tea towel, and winter is only a few months away. He needs sweaters. And shoes. Do ducks need shoes?"
"He is a Warlord-cub. He does not need sweaters; he needs armor!"
