Teev shook the can of red spray paint. Through practice and skill, he could make the telltale click of metal ball bearings rattling around in the can sound like crickets and cicadas.
Thick, overgrown reeds, pine needles, and small twigs and sticks gave good cover as the tagger slipped through the field.
Red veins, painted across stark white trumpets stood out among the greens and browns. A statement against the marginalization of imps and pixies by the Fae Establishment, Teev’s art represented how the fairies were being bleed dry of their magic.
Leaving his latest masterpiece still wet, Teev scurried to the next trumpet, paint cans clinking in his rucksack. Weaving in and out and around the thick, green stalks, Teev stayed hidden from Fae spies.
A storm was coming, and Teev would be there to illustrate the revolution.