Spring, Week 6 - She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain

To listen to the narration (and learn how I put the episode together), check out this video:

*****

 "Sorry. What? How about this - sit down, take a nice deep breath, then when you're ready, take it from the top."

As Roger began to work through this calming exercise, I was able to take a minute to reflect on what had been, until his arrival, a lovely morning. 

I'd spent it quietly, starting with my now usual practice of sitting and breathing in front of the spirit house. Afterwards, I spent some time with the bees. They'd flown around me, landed on me, and gently swarmed me. Far from creepy, it was comforting. Although their little gripper feet can be a bit much on bare skin!

I was within that communion of companionship when this loud lout had burst upon the grounds. Thankfully he was consistently loud so I wasn't hurt by startled bees.

At first I'd tried to ask Roger about why he was here, but all he'd been doing is talking, and acting out something that had happened somewhere. I was hoping he'd make more sense after taking a minute to settle. But in watching him try to sit quietly, it was clear there was something going on bodily - he just couldn't sit still. And what's more, odd movements kept happening. It was like watching something in a bag trying to get out.

Despite that, he did quiet down. And told me his story.

"You remember that I'm an adventurer, right? I approached you in the Copper Fox a few weeks ago and offered to guard you on your foraging journeys. Say! Why haven't you ever hired me? I'm really good at guarding and guiding. I mean, ok, yes, my armour is bits of what I can find to cover my important bits but I'm saving up for a quality piece of leather. It's going to be awesome! There're these trim pieces, red, you know, that'll set it off and..."

I help up my hand, hoping he'd stop talking. Again. "Yes, Roger, I remember you. I've been managing reagent gathering just fine. But I haven't forgotten your kind offer."

"And affordable!"

"Yes, very affordable. But not needed by me to date. So why don't you tell me what brings you here."

"Right! Yes! Well, I was hired to take my customer... sorry - my client - to Hero's Hollow."

"Ok. Who was your client?"

"Oh! Sorry - I have a strict policy of not revealing my clients' identities. Anyway, apparently there's a necromancer living in the dungeon. So we went in search of a reanimated skeleton. We had money to pay!"

*Sigh* So the doctor was still in search of a living skeleton. "So what happened?"

"We made our way to where my client knew the necromancer lives. And we met this... I guess... person? Anyway, we got there. This... person... directed me to a room while the necromancer and my client conducted their business.

"There was so much cool stuff in the room! I swear I didn't hear anyone say anything about not stepping into the chalked star-shape on the floor. But let me tell you, I heard about it right after I did it. The necromancer threw us out! My client was so angry. Anyway, there was some other stuff yelled back and forth but I couldn't focus on it. Not that any of that stuff would have made sense to me even if I'd been paying attention. Instead, I started feeling really weird. Like I wanted my body to do one thing but things kept trying to move in weird ways. I mean, I'm a highly trained warrior! Reflexes that just... Snap!... like a trap. Here - watch!"

I stood there, politely, watching. I didn't care about his... air sword attacks and air shield blocks, I guess you could call it. I watched as bones continued to move about in decidedly odd ways. It was if his skeleton had become reanimated inside his body. Restless Bones, the witch's book calls it. It's annoying to have but doesn't progress beyond the bones trying to move independently. The muscles help to keep everything in check. 

Roger had just finished reenacting some sort of mythic battle where he was the sole survivor. I interrupted his victory speech. "Roger, why didn't the doctor treat you?"

"Umm... well..."

 I just raised my eyebrows, waiting for what was going to be a ridiculous answer. 

"He said I have PNSD. Post Necromancer Stress Disorder. He said I'll be fine in a few weeks. And he wanted to give me some pill or other for stress. But I told him that my body is a temple and that I can't pollute it with something that'll make me sluggish. Here - watch!"

I managed to get his attention before he began slaying vast numbers of dread enemies. "I can make a potion. It'll take a bit, but I can do it. And it won't make you drowsy. Is that ok?"

"That sounds great! Here - watch as I show you how I defeated the Moose-headed Minotaur!"

"That's great. Yeah. Just great. Say! How about I direct you to these trees over here. Yes, these trees. The trees that are a good ways away from the cottage and my bee hive. Ok? I'm going to gather some things and head out. You can stay here until I'm back."

*****

"It's nice being out here. The peace. The quiet. No trying to chop down a tree using a twig." MouseEye perched on my shoulder, echoed what I'd been thinking. He continued. "Although it does seem a bit cruel to whack a living tree repeatedly with a piece of dead tree. I mean... trees have feelings too."

I said, "I do hope they have a good sense of humour."

MouseEye shrugged. "I'd think they're rather uptight. How else can you grow so tall?"

We both had a good laugh.

It felt good to be out, walking, enjoying the sun, the breeze, and the gentle odours that floated on it. Not to mention the mountain looming ahead of us. Somewhere up there was Glittersnow - the product of snow absorbing the power within ley lines. Combined with a bit of Wild Rose, that lovely flower growing in my plant bed, Roger and his amazing reactions/warrior instincts/pure physicality would be restored. Which, I'm sure to the relief of the trees, would result in relief in not having him whack them over and over as he tried out various battle cries.

I thought about the best way to locate the Glittersnow and it occurred to me that rather than find snow and hope it was on a ley line, that instead I should look for a ley line and follow it up the mountain until I hit snow. Rather brilliant of me, I wasn't ashamed to admit!

The trick, then, was to find a ley line. And for that, I didn't need my eyes. (In fact, they'd get in the way). Instead, I focused internally, paying attention to my intuition. (While there are other methods of finding ley lines, like pendulums and divining rods, they're just methods of focusing intuition). It did take a while of navigating the hills and terrain of the Mountain while staying focused on the ley line (and in there as well was MouseEye, who began telling jokes. It would've made things more difficult if I'd been laughing, but his jokes were so bad I only groaned.)

After finding a ley line, I then began following it. Unfortunately, they don't adjust course to help searchers navigate around sheer rock walls or through thick berry brambles. It took a while to finally reconnect to the ley line in a space with snow. But I found it, celebrated, and collected some (and celebrated again because who couldn't use a bit of victory dance in their life? However, victory speeches to phantom crowds of grateful townspeople saved from marauding hordes don't count!)

With the absolutely necessary reagent collected, I decided to look around and see if more potion ingredients were close by. Which is how I noticed a cave. It was very nondescript on the face of it. But quite comfortable and cozy inside with mosses growing at the cave mouth and on the floor. Which helps explain why a lost sheep might hunker down in it.

It "baaa'ed". I said, "Hello." And things progressed from there. Mostly due to MouseEye's ability to speak... what? Everything? Sheep, for sure. Anyway, it became pretty clear that the sheep didn't belong here. It wasn't sure where exactly it did belong, but it was able to give us a clue or two as to where to go. At least initially. And that was near the mountain, but a different face of it. We had a walk to get this sheep returned. I did have a bit of a quandary - return the sheep or get back to Whacky Roger. The sheep won out.

We picked our way along the side of Moonbreaker Mountain. There were animal paths that made things easier (when they existed and headed in roughly the supposed right way). And there were some places that were more... I don't want to say "precarious"... but there were places that guaranteed the sheep hadn't come through there. 

At one point we came across a large Gull-Drake nest. The birds weren't amused. Especially when I helped myself to bits of their nest (not structurally important bits!) and a bit of guano that was holding it together. They cried, swooped, pooped on (not collectable, unfortunately), and pecked at us. Thankfully it was more to scare than to injure. I thanked them and left (although I don't think they accepted my appreciation). 

As we made our way, the sheep had this amazing ability to find Candy Rock. And eat it. All of it. After it'd eaten the fourth lump, I began to worry it'd go into some sort of diabetic shock. How could it eat all that sweet? It was... ugh! And it would've been nice if it would leave one piece for me. (It did. Eventually. I decided to hide it deeper in a pocket than I usually put reagents because there was no telling if Sheepy would suddenly get hungry for my piece.) Clearly, with this sheep's ability to eat Candy Rock, it hadn't passed through this path. And maybe the sheep had been in a diabetic coma in that cave for a while. Maybe?

We did eventually spot a farm sitting in a lush valley. Shortly after, we heard sheep calls and sheep dogs. The sheep I was guiding no longer needed a guide  - it took off like a shot, glad to recognize its home. It took me longer to get there.

As I got closer, a few children ran out to meet me. "Did you find Gerty?", "What's your name?", "Mah!!!" were a few things yelled out. As I walked towards the main house, the children followed me and continued to yell out questions. 

A middle-aged woman emerged from the house, wiping her hands on an apron. "Greetings. Am I hearing correctly that you've brought our fool runaway sheep home?"

I said I had and that I'd found her in a Moonbreaker Mountain cave. 

"Is that a fact? I wonder what she was doing up there?"

I told her I suspected it was for Candy Rock.

"Hmm. Sounds like her. Anyway, my thanks for the service. Do you live locally? I don't believe I recognize you."

"I'm Mistress Sweetwater, the new witch near High Rannoc."

"Are you? Well, it's getting late enough that you shouldn't be travelling back. You'll twist an ankle or worse up there. You'll stay with us the night and can head back safely when the sun's up tomorrow."

I started to refuse, but she insisted. "Don't fret for room or board - we've plenty enough of both. Have to, what with all the little ones. And it's what we've always done for the High Rannoc witch."

"Oh! You knew the old witch?"

"Sure we did. Didn't come often but it was a joy to have her stay."

I was given an honour guard (one child was assigned to show me. The others came and helped) to see me to a bedroom (where I'd be sleeping with the girls) so I could clean up before supper. 

It was tasty and there was plenty. And by plenty, I don't simply mean the food. The whole family (including the father and a couple of older boys who'd been working in the fields) were excited, happy, and laughing. I think my presence was an excuse to have a bit of a party. 

After the meal and associated clean-up (I insisted that I help), we talked and sang and danced. 

Somewhere in all that I found out their family name is Bleater. I guessed sheep farming had been part of the family tradition for a long time!

Also somewhere in there, I was introduced to a song they liked to make up for guests. Apparently the old witch loved it and would come armed with a verse or two. It starts like this:

She'll be coming round the mountain when she comes (when she comes)

She'll be coming round the mountain when she comes (when she comes)

She'll be coming round the mountain

She'll be coming round the mountain

She'll be coming round the mountain when she comes (when she comes)

The she meaning me. 

The next verse was:

She'll be bringing back our Girty when she comes (when she comes)

(I'm sure you get the idea that it repeats just like the first stanza.)

And so on. 

I tried to make up a good line for the song. My creativity was "aided" with a nip (or two) or something very apple-y, very yummy, and very burn-y when swallowed! So I sang:

She'll be carrying a mouse-y when she comes (when she comes)

All eyes turned towards me when I sang that. Partly in a bit of shock, but mostly because MouseEye, the always-watchful, the never-seen, the little-trickster, was dancing on top of my head. I think I'd had enough of whatever it was for the both of us.

It was a delightful night. And overnight was... unusual... given that there were several of us all sleeping together in the same bed. Between the long day, the celebrations, and everything, I fell asleep right away. 

I was told by one of the young girls that I snored. But she said that it was funny to hear, so it was ok. 

One early, filling breakfast later, I was ready to go. Mrs. Bleater handed me a small pot of something sweet (it would keep just fine for use in my potion. She insisted on contributing to the potion since that was the original reason I'd been on the mountain in the first place). I bid them farewell and headed out.

It didn't take anywhere near as long to return as it had to get there - not trying to find and follow ley lines can save huge amounts of time! But it was mid-day when I got back to my cottage. To the peace, the quiet, and the grunts of satisfaction from skewering imagined vanquished foes.

I let him continue with his training session, I guess it'd be called, as I prepped and brewed the potion. It took seconds to mix the crushed rose hip seeds with the Glittersnow (quite melted now, but still effective), and the added sweet from the Bleaters.

My warrior prince patient would have licked it clean, I think. He seemed as eager for sweet as Girty was. Anyway, it was satisfying to see his bones finally settle down. 

The relief he was feeling was plain. His entire body relaxed. He even stopped stabbing everything around him. 

However, it was my turn to be uncomfortable. I knew he only charged ten silver for a protection trip and here I was about to charge him thirty for the potion plus four for each of the three doses of sweet. Forty-two silver. That wasn't a profitable trip for him at all!

Roger, to his credit, after he digested the cost, accepted it and paid. I encouraged him to let the doctor know about the additional cost of his healing and to add a term in his contract to include "damages to person". 

I also felt bad when he told me he'd slept the night beneath a tree. He said he felt uncomfortable sleeping in someone else's bed, especially a witch's bed. It took me a minute to digest that. But I gratefully accepted his sacrifice of personal comfort.

After he left, I got to work on the grounds. It wasn't that I'd not done anything on the land for weeks, but I wanted to get back to my usual routine. 

I finished up for the day and went into the cottage to make some food (nowhere near as tasty or as plentiful as last night's meal!), which is when I spotted a note on the mantlepiece. With a gentle glow coming from behind it.

That, I decided, would have to wait until tomorrow.

Also Spring, Week 5 - Miss Bogfire

To hear the narration of the episode and learn how I put it together, check this out:

*****

 Quiet. Blessedly quiet. The crackle of the occasional stick popping open in the hearth as I sit and sip and relax. It seems life has become either frantically busy as I run around gathering necessary reagents, dealing with the environs where I have to go to find them, or the blessed peace in between cases. I know I'm needed here - every time someone needs help and I'm able to provide it demonstrates just how much I'm needed. But what I want is more of this. Peace. Solitude. Harmony.

On the flip side, the last couple of weeks has been full of time off. Aside from cleaning up endless messes! I suppose I should be grateful that the last encounter didn't end up with my place a total wreck. Who would've thought a vampiric necromancer could use a mop?

Thank you, cottage, for not laying that cleaning job on me!

And also on the flip side - I've been doing quite nicely for myself monetarily. I think it's about time that I added something to the cottage. Or something that will assist me as I go about the gathering of potion-makings. And for that, it's to the village I go. I'm sure Bob will have just the thing. Even if I'm not sure what that thing is yet.

I gathered up a few things and prepared to head out. As I stopped in front of the spirit house to let it know my intention to head off, I spotted MouseEye in what has become his place in the structure. He opened an eye. "Heading out?"

"Yes. To the village. And I think you should come too. Visibly."

He just looked at me. "Must I?"

"I think it would be good for you. I know you like to watch and observe, mostly out of sight, but I think you should consider being visible at times too."

He didn't move. He just laid there and looked at me.

*Sigh*.  Fine. "Yes, MouseEye. You must."

He took his turn to sigh. "Ok."

As we headed to High Rannoc, MouseEye on my shoulder, I talked. About how well things were going. About all the things we'd seen and done. About all the adventures we'd had. MouseEye kept up an unenthusiastic "mmm hmm" to each of my observations. So I stopped talking. And instead let my mind wander to an imagined stock of goods at Bob's shop. Nothing really inspired my excitement, even when I dreamed of impossible things like trees that cut themselves down, chopped themselves up, and stacked themselves as firewood, or a scullery that magically did all the dishes. Oh well - I'm sure actually seeing Bob's inventory will cure me of needing to dream of something worthwhile.

"MouseEye? What do you think I'll buy today?"

"Mmm hmm."

Maybe this wasn't the best idea. Anyway - I'm not letting a certain someone's attitude ruin my day! I'm going shopping and that's that! Unwilling companion or no.

It's hard to ignore the sorry state of the boundary between High Rannoc and the rest of the world, try as I might. I hope those large timbers aren't actually needed to keep things out. And I really hope that because I'm outside those walls! Ha! Me - first line of defence against bandits, monsters, and who knows what else. But, to be fair, one necromancer might be less inclined to cause trouble.

Those thoughts got me thinking - maybe I am a bit of a buffer between things Out There and In Here. But before I could take that thought any further, I arrived at Bits & Bobs.

Bob, as usual, was attentive, patient, and very willing to show off his stock. But as I looked at various items, nothing seemed to... fit. Nothing was quite right. My anticipation of buying something was quickly draining away and I found myself wanting to tearfully apologize for wasting his time. Which is when Bob asked the fateful question. "Have you considered expanding the areas you search for reagents?"

That stopped me. Yes. Yes! YES!!! That was the thing. I was suddenly transported to traveling to the Cloud Isles in Madcap's balloon. That would be amazing! That would be...!

"I have a friend. Bit of an eccentric but can weave wood like nothing I've ever seen. He makes boats. Calls 'em 'coracles'. They're not much more than a bit of circular dryness on top of boggy bogginess, but one of those would mean you could navigate through Blastfire Bog. Not that I'd suggest that to most anyone, but then again, you're not most anyone."

The bog? It's... well... it's not flying, that's for sure. But... going out in a small boat to explore a new area, gather new and unique items... yes. Yes! YES!!! Sold! I'm in! How exciting!

Bob and I traded items - he got seventy silver and I got a paper to take to the coracle maker, Cunk, to show I'd paid properly. So exciting! I couldn't wait to have my first sail. Or row, I suppose - coracles don't have a mast. Or a rudder. Or a keel. But what my boat will have is a fine rower. 

I stepped out of the shop with a pep to my step. The sun was a little brighter, the flowers a bit more colourful, the... why is someone walking at me? Why... I think he was in the herbology school? And I'm sure I don't know his name...

"Hey! Loser! What are you doing here? You quit! So go home back to your mommy!"

Ah. Well isn't this delightful? "Sorry, do I know you?"

"Yeah, you know me. You're such a failure that you don't even remember who was in your class."

Ok. Tongue - stay put. Feet - start moving. Eyes - look away. Mouth... oooh, why won't you listen? "Sorry, I have to go. So... see you."

He grabbed my arm. "And I see a rodent, a pathetic mouse, on your shoulder. That's your familiar? Ha ha! What a joke!"

I bristled. I stopped and turned. "Take your hands off of me."

"Why? You going to cry?"

"No. But you will." I didn't say that. MouseEye did. And then he jumped from my shoulder onto my attacker's neck, and then slid down under his shirt. What happened next was that the boy let go of me and clasped his chest as he screamed in pain. A small red circle started to appear on his shirt. As the boy turned to run away, crying, MouseEye slid out from the shirt cuff and jumped back onto my shoulder. "It's not like I bit him all that hard. But it is all about placement."

Time to leave before anything more happens!

*****

Blastfire Bog extends from the edge of Glimmerwood Grove forest and off to the edges of the Moonbreaker Mountain range. It's a huge expanse that houses all sorts of unique life. Including bog goblins. Which includes at least one who tried (and failed) to sell Bob inactive Fentoad Scurf and who also tried (and succeeded) in cursing him.

And here I was, off to see someone named "Cunk". I guessed I was about to have dealings with an industrious goblin. Hopefully I wouldn't end up with a curse of my own.

As we walked to the Bog, MouseEye and I talked about the encounter in the village. And about changes - the very same topic I'd been musing on earlier. After the encounter with Richard, Count von Rannoc, and how the land had defended itself, I felt little fear about being waylaid by a jealous boy. Or, if he has friends, a pack of them. I didn't feel invincible, but I did feel much safer than I would have even a couple of weeks ago.

Oh, how fast things can change!

After a while, we found the piece of shore, if there can be a shore to a bog, where Cunk has his workshop. As we approached it, we called out to let Cunk know we were approaching. There's no sense in staying quiet if that causes a startled curse-wielding someone to start hurling magic at you before getting a chance to think!

Cunk - how to describe him? Start with what you think a bog goblin looks like, then add unsettling clever eyes and a bearing that gets you thinking that if bog goblins have royalty, here before you stands a likely family member. Even his smell, while strong, wasn't putrid. Exactly. Maybe he'd bathed in the bog recently.

He came out of his shack, cautious, wary, but curious. His eyes were clearly taking us in. "Yeah. What?", he half-yelled.

"I just bought a coracle. I've paid Bob. Here's the paper." I held it up to show him.

"Come." Cunk turned around and entered his shack. I did my best to prepare for the enclosed version of Cunk.

The shack wasn't much beyond his coracle workshop. Strips of wood were all over, some bits woven already, others being prepared. He also had a large pot over the fire; the odour was some sort of adhesive or perhaps sealant. Maybe this was how he kept water out. In a corner was some straw and a blanket. Cunk had made his way to a bare patch of his worktable. He slapped it. "Show."

I put the paper down and stepped back. He took it, made at least a show of reading it (whether he could actually read it is another question), smelled it, then said, "Ok. Follow." We went out the other door and into what must have been his storage area. He had a few boats leaning up against trees. "Pick."

They all looked the same to me. So I asked for some help. "Which one is best?"

"All best."

Ok. Thanks for the help. As I started looking at each one, he followed (I didn't need to see him to know he was close, if you know what I mean). As I looked at one, he said, "Big. Carry lots. Paddle hard."

Now that was useful. I hadn't considered that the size of the boat would affect the difficulty to use it.

I looked at another. "Small. Carry little. Paddle easy. Lift easy. You small. Maybe best."

And that's how I ended up with Miss Bogfire, the finest, smallest, most nimblest coracle on the Blastfire Bog seas. Cunk carried it easily to a small dock. "Dock here. Ok." And there was another thought I hadn't even contemplated yet - where to keep it when it wasn't in use. But... wouldn't he want some compensation for keeping it at his dock? "I can keep it somewhere so that it's not in your way."

He looked at me for a second, then said, "Better here. Water up, water down, coracle here, no coracle gone." I started to give that a thought when he added, "You witch, yes?"

I said I was.

"Help Bob, yes?"

I said I had.

"Keep here. Better."

I thanked him, but asked, "Did you give Bob the cludgy mouth?"

He looked shocked. "Me? No. Stupid, greedy goblin. Live in bog. You sail, you meet."

I was taken back to when I'd wanted to hear how a certain vampire wasn't going to be a problem. I found myself wishing for the same basic thing, only replacing vampire with goblin. But I was also feeling brave(r), so I decided it was time for a maiden voyage.

I'd heard, at some time or other, that when big sailing ships are launched, they are christened using some sort of bubbly wine. Having nothing like that on hand, I scooped a handful of bubbling bog water, dribbled it onto the gunnel, and had a quick naming ceremony. I also asked that if she ever felt like sinking that she do so without me onboard. Cunk chuckled. 

With that done, I set off. It took a few minutes to get used to it. A circular boat doesn't cut through the water so much as unwillingly running it over. So going forward was an effort. Spinning in a circle, however - it was brilliant at doing that. Even when I really didn't want to.

Like I said, it took a bit to get used to. But I did get going and set off across the water. And the islets. And the trees and reeds and...

"MouseEye? How am I supposed to navigate back home? Everything looks the same."

He just yawned. "I watch."

"So you can get me back? From wherever?"

"Mmm hmm."

I didn't want to go too far out. Initially. But as I found a rhythm, I just kept going deeper in. 

After a while, I pulled up on a small dry-ish island. It felt good to hop off, stretch my legs (they were folded under me during my paddling) and looked around. It was very open, very bright - nothing taller than large scruffy bushes got in the way of the sky. The air hummed with insects of all sorts. Happily, none of them were hungry for witch's blood.

I remembered an addendum to the old witch's notes about reagents growing specifically, and only, in the Bog. On a lark, I began to dig next to where I was sitting. And found Milkroot. In a minute I had a good-sized tuber. Into the boat it, and we, went. Rest time was over!

Off we went in a different direction and came to another small islet - this one covered in mushrooms and other low growth. It looked the perfect place for faire folk to gather. And I was right! Their dust (quite glittery) was all over. It took a bit to gather some up, pinch by pinch, but I did eventually have a nice amount.

It was starting to get later in the day, so I started heading in the general direction of back home, but I took an alternate route. As I paddled, I started hearing the unmistakeable sounds of toads. I had to go look.

As I paddled closer to the islet where the sounds were coming from, toads began to jump, panicked. Towards me. Which was really weird. Until my nose picked up the indescribable reek of bog goblin. Several goblin heads suddenly rose above the grasses, toads continued to jump in all sorts of directions, including towards me, and in all the pandemonium, or perhaps toademonium (there being no pandas here), a large toad ended up in my boat and scooted under the seat.

The goblins, who up to this point had been focused solely on toads, spotted me, There were grunts, screams, yells, and a couple of loud belches. One in particular looked enraged. "You! Thief! Steal toads!"

I started to backpaddle as fast as I could. Meanwhile, most of the goblins ran to the water's edge and stopped. However, the really angry one looked around desperately, then started to grab and throw handfuls of mud at me. Goblin + anger + mud = bad aim.

I paddled away from there as fast as I could.

After a few minutes, I felt safe enough to stop, listen, and assess. No sounds of pursuit. No crashing of angry goblins in the undergrowth or swimming my way. No sounds but for one quiet, perhaps grateful?, croaking from under my seat.

I peeked underneath. It peered out back.

"You're safe."

It just stayed in place.

"I can set you on land somewhere."

Again, no movement.

"I'm heading home. Back to my cottage. I'm a witch, by the way. Mistress Sweetwater, at your service."

It croaked. Within that croak I swear I heard "home". Well... ok. "Can I call you Fen? Short for Fentoad?"

Another croak. The meaning was more complicated, and to be honest I didn't understand most of it, but I think part of it was acceptance.

Not much happened after that (thank goodness). I was guided back home by both MouseEye and Fen (there were a couple of times they argued over the best way back). I pulled up at the dock and was met by Cunk. "You meet! Ha! Have toad! Ha ha! Welcome back!"

I unloaded the coracle and then went to help pull it out of the water. "You go. Goblin come. Sun go." I thanked Cunk, then headed home.

The walk back was entirely uneventful. MouseEye on one shoulder, Fen on the other, not a word spoken among the three of us.

When we got back, Fen found a spot outside, near the spring where I collect water, to live. MouseEye settled back into his usual perch in the spirit house. And I brewed a lovely cup of tea and reflected again on just how fast things can change.

Spring, Week 5 - An Involuntary Foraging Trip

To hear the narration (and learn how I put the episode together), click below:

*****

 I can feel the season coming into its own. That first fresh breeze promising warmer weather and the heat of summer is long past. The feeling of Nature waking up is something I treasure. Funny how things can change so quickly - a change in residence, a definite increase in responsibilities, learning so much in such a short period of time. And yet there's other things that take their time - a change in season, the growth of a tree, even the movement of clouds - and just how easy it is to miss.

I feel like becoming a witch has made me even more aware of all these things, all these changes, fast and slow. And the really funny part is that the best way to notice these changes is to be still. While I can easily keep myself busy doing, I find I prefer not doing. It's been a bit of an exercise keeping my doing and not doing balanced, because both are needed. I find I do because not doing ends. And when my doing is done, I'm back to not doing.

It's a bit weird and I don't know if I'm making sense to anyone (other than to myself, of course. I think!) but it feels good to just sit and observe. My mind does wander while I'm sitting - whether in the cottage by the spirit house or outside in the increasingly warm and green spaces - but that's ok too. It floats along and wanders into all sorts of mental crevices, nooks, even the occasional rabbit hole, but eventually comes back and quiets a bit before dashing off again. Watching my mind meander around is like watching a restless child. It's ok, so long as it's home for meals!

It's been a busy couple of weeks. I've done my best to rest and recuperate, to keep myself happy and healthy, while also being at my best when the need arises. I've enough silver to make a new purchase - I'm sure Bob will be happy to see me and a full purse! Just kidding! Bob is a wonderful person and a smart shopkeeper. I hope to be viewed the same way someday.

Anyway - that will be something to do later this week. Or not. We'll see! For now, I'll sit and breathe. 

*****

At some point, something that I started feeling, grew in my awareness. Something not exactly wrong, but also not quite right.

"MouseEye?"

"Do you feel something too?"

There's nothing so affirming as someone else mentioning feeling something strange without prompting.

"Yeah. And idea what it is?"

"Mmm mmm."

"Do you want to scout around a bit? See if something's amiss?"

As an answer, he closed his eyes. Maybe he didn't say "Must I?" with words, but he yelled it with actions. So I shrugged and decided to walk around.

The sky was clear, the sun shining, nothing out of the ordinary. Except for two things: the bees were less active and sticking closer to the hive, and things felt a little gloomier than they should've. 

It was all subtle and easy to miss, but taken together, something was up. I decided to stay close to the cottage. Which wasn't the idea I'd had for... not today, but maybe tomorrow. I'd taken two weeks to clean up and rest up after difficult cases, which meant I'd spent less time than maybe I should've looking for reagents. And I had wanted to spend some time in Glimmerwood Grove. I guess that would have to wait.

Time passed. The gloom, if anything, deepened. I did my best to sit and be patient. Me pacing the cottage would do me no favours.

The day progressed and still... nothing. The sun set and still... nothing. The sun set? It... no... *sigh*... if a certain necromancer is coming to visit, at least we'll have that out of the way.

"MouseEye? You don't think it's the necromancer, do you?"

He stirred. "If it is, at least we're here. The cottage is safe."

Oh good. I'd've preferred something like, "No - it's not an immortal, blood-sucking, death-magic using creature whose only weaknesses are sunlight, wooden stakes to the heart, and raw garlic.

So we wait. And wait. And...

A knock. On the door.

"Mithtreth? Are you at home?"

Gulp.

MouseEye quickly ran behind the spirit house.

Great.

I called out in response - mostly to delay actually opening the door. "Igor? Is that you?"

"Yeth, mithtreth. The marthter hath need of your thervitheth."

A vampire needs a witch? Well... why not. As I reached for the door, MouseEye jumped on my shoulder, which caused me to jump out of my skin. As I recovered my composure, MouseEye said, "It's safe." Good. Although scaring the stuffing our of me... we could have skipped that bit!

I opened the door. Igor was standing, all three hands gathered together respectfully in front of him, his perpetual smile warm and reassuring. "Mithtreth, pleathe allow me to introduthe my Marthter, Count von Rannoc."

A figure standing behind Igor began to move forward. I expected black and red velvet, a cape, a large necklace depicting a wolf or a bat, all on a towering figure with a smile featuring prominent canines. What emerged was... less. He was pale - that fit the usual depictions. But he was short and stout, wearing a shirt and pants that you might see a labourer wear. There was nothing regal or scary here. Or at least in view. MouseEye's trembling kept me alert.

The Count walked up to me, took my hand, and kissed the back of it. "Count von Rannoc. Pleased to make your acquaintance. And please call me Richard. One's name disappears when buried by titles and honours. Tell me, what may I call you?"

I could feel a gentle push to give him my real name, that here was a friend who would safeguard secrets as if they were his own. So I took a second to shrug that off. "Sweet. Please call me Sweet."

He smiled. It was, for the most part, accepting. But for the remaining part, and echoed by his eyes, not happy that I'd given the answer I had.

I recovered my senses some more. "To what do I owe the visit, Richard?"

He recovered quickly too. "Would you mind if we sit down before I regale you with my tale of misfortune?"

I was getting comfortable with the situation. And that meant I didn't mind taking a minute to ask the cottage before answering. Count Richard might take offence but I was caring less and less. I focused on the cottage and mentally asked for permission. It was granted. So I let the vampire and his assistant in. The Count flashed a quick satisfied grin.

"Isn't it funny - sunlight is unhealthy for me but I can enjoy a lovely fire. Thank you for allowing me in." The Count was once again being charming. But I wasn't fooled. Something was going on.

"Please take a seat. May I offer you some tea?"

"Tea? Delighted."

"And for you, Igor?"

"Yeth, pleathe."

With the social niceties out of the way, it was time to find out what was going on. "You mentioned a tale of misfortune, Richard?"

He sipped and savoured before responding. "Wonderful cup of tea. Thank you. So yes - why I'm here. As you probably know, being a witch, that I am... differently alive than others. In addition, my interest in exploring the boundary between this world and the one where the deceased travel to requires the use of silver. Did you know of its qualities of calling forth the energies of the moon? Yes? Yes - of course you do. Well - what no one mentions in any of the tomes I have - have you been in my library? You've seen my collection of books - that silver can irritate, not just skin, but the entire body and, what's more, the esoteric body. So I have a need for a cure. And that brings me to you."

On the surface, it sounded good. Sincere. Someone needing help. But couldn't that help come from, oh I don't know, the Igor with the fully stocked laboratory? So I called him on it.

"It'th unfortunate, but my thkillth are thentered around necromatic artth, not allergieth." With a slight, perhaps even disapproving, glance at the Count.

"Igor", the Count replied, "We've discussed this. This is not an allergy. It is a chronic condition from over-exposure. As you well know from the summoning of Askew." Then he glanced at me. "Ah, sorry - you wouldn't know. Askew is a minor demon. I consulted it in regards to my affliction and it assured me you could effect a cure."

Right. "Please enjoy some more tea. I'll be just a second." I got up and began consulting the old witch's book. As I came up with a plan, I heard the Count remark on my spirit house. "It's lovely how you honour... your ancestors? the grounds? What does this symbolize?"

Without thinking, I replied, "The cottage and grounds."

"Is that so?"

I cringed. I'm not sure what he's hunting for, but apparently he just found something helpful.

I turned my mind back to the condition at hand. Silver Burn. Definitely a thing. And not an easy nut to crack. Thankfully I already had one reagent, Ghost Goo. For the other, I had a few choices... I think I muttered Glimmerwood Grove as I read.

"Will your hunt for reagents take you  to the Grove?" I heard the Count ask.

I just nodded.

He paused for a minute. "Lovely place. Full of reagents."

I nodded again.

"And I'm in no hurry for a cure."

Did he know I had been thinking of going there? Was that demon the one who told him? "I had been thinking about a reagent gathering... expedition is far too grand a word. But..."

"Wonderful! That sounds productive. And relaxing. I heartily endorse it!"

"Yes, but..."

"And I insist you take Igor with you. He'll cook and clean for you - whatever you want. Isn't that right, Igor?"

Was there a pause? "Yeth, Marthter. Of courthe, Marthter."

The Count smiled. "Wonderful! It's all decided. And of course you don't want to wait, do you, Sweet?"

I just nodded again.

"Right. Gather your things and off you go."

And I did and I did. It was only after I was halfway there that I realized I hadn't actually wanted to leave at all. I was so frustrated, angry, disgusted in myself, just... I wanted to scream. But I also wanted to talk to MouseEye, but with Igor around, I knew MouseEye wouldn't appear. So I stopped to go to the bathroom, asked Igor to keep going, and said I'd catch up in a minute.

I squatted down in a place so I could make sure Igor kept on walking. After I made sure he wasn't around, I whispered, "MouseEye?"

"Clever using the 'I need to pee trick'."

"Thanks. It helps to know I've got my brain back. I felt like I was pushed out the door."

"Um... you were. But not by the vampire. I think the cottage got you out of there."

That stopped me. "Seriously?"

"He wanted in and the cottage let it happen. I think whatever happens there, it'll be safer for you out here. Focus on the potion - he wasn't making that up. And when you feel ready, then we'll head back. Hopefully, things will be resolved. And in our favour."

Note to self - all this hoping that things will work out is for the birds. Or the snails. For something and/or someone who's not me. I'd prefer certainty, especially here and now!

Anyway, I finished my fake pee stop and caught up to Igor. He didn't look happy. So I asked if there was anything the matter.

"Kind of you to athk. I... I don't with to thay anything againtht the marthter, but hith conduct lately hath been in violation of the Igor Code. And thith excurthion, begging your forgiveneth, ith right up there. I'm thuppothed to care for mathter'th needth, not thimply to enthure you..."

"That I what, Igor? Come to harm?"

"Oh! No, mithtreth! No harm ith to come to you."

"Then why are you here?"

"Loothe lipth think thipth. I've already thaid too much."

"He wanted into the cottage. He's looking for something."

"The entity that ith the cottage and groundth. He became aware of it with the latht witch."

"And so...?"

"Tho what? You'll cure him of hith allergy. Huh! Allergy! What thelf-rethpecting necromancer hath a thilver allergy? Thameful."

"I will?"

"Yeth, mithtreth, you will. Not becauthe of any threat, but becauthe, in your heart of heartth, you heal. It'th what you want to do. And I'm here to help you do it. Jutht... maybe take longer than thtrickly nethethary."

"And yet you don't want to help me. You want to help the Count."

"That, mithtreth, ith my burden to bear. For now."

And that was that. Whether I liked it or not, I had Igor helping me find reagents in the forest while a vampiric necromancer attacked my cottage. And my cottage, by the way, wanted me out of the way. I had no idea how I was supposed to feel about all of this. So I decided to get to work gathering so that when I felt the time was right, I'd be able to go home right away.

"Okay, Igor. I can't say I understand any of what's going on, but you are right that I'm not interested in whatever magical battle of wits is happening. So I'll focus on what I can do, which is focus on making potions and all that involves, and let everything play out as it will. I'm going to trust that everything works out ok. So let's get to the Grove and set up camp. It's getting late and I'd really like to hit the ground running tomorrow. How's that sound?"

"Like a well thought-out plan, mithtreth."

*****

That plan worked well for us. Although there was also a fair bit of luck involved. You see, we finished making our way to the Grove, the trees all rising high over our heads, branches outstretched, nighttime animals making their nighttime noises (funny how scary they can be heading to the Hollow and yet so soothing in the Grove). We found a clearing and set up camp by a couple of big rocks that were the start of a couple of low ridges, forming a bit of a valley. It was tight, that valley, so we set up at the mouth of it. It also allowed for some fresher air. Inside the valley, the air didn't move much and had an unpleasant earthy smell. And that's where we spent the first night.

When we awoke the next morning, we decided to move camp. Quietly. Because the "rocks" we camped next to weren't rocks. They were feet. Giant's feet. I don't know how we avoided being trampled or otherwise rolled on. Thankfully the giant is a heavy sleeper. 

Once we had the new camp set up, I went back and carefully picked Foot Fungus - a powerful reagent. I tried to not sneeze and was almost successful. But the giant slept through it all.

I do not look forward to contending with an awake giant. Fingers crossed I never do.

Over the course of a couple of days, we gathered pretty much everything I wanted to bring back.

We put our new camp near a copse of Nurse Willows, where I harvested Surgeon Sap. Apart from being a convenient camp for ourselves, we also got to watch as a couple of animals, wounded from, I suppose, territorial fights, battles with predators, and who knows what else, came to lick the trees and effect their own healing.

One of these animals was a boar. It was in really bad shape, not even being able to reach a tree - it just laid down a few metres away, looked piteously at them, and whimpered. I was able to gather a bit of additional sap and cautiously fed it. As it lay there waiting for the sap to work its magic, I gave it some pets and was rewarded with some of its hair. Hair of the Boar was another reagent I'd hoped to gather.

Near a quick-flowing creek, as we gathered water, there was some splashing as something tried to avoid us. At first I thought it was a fish. Turns out it was Scramble Bramble. If it hadn't been for its trying to get away, I never would've known it was there. I managed to catch a bit.

On a prior trip here, I'd encountered some pixies near some Songberry bushes. I headed that way again. The pixies were once again gathered there. It was a bit awkward, with plenty of not-very-quiet mutterings about how I'd cheated at Caber Toss. I tried to put on a friendly face. I guess it worked because I was able to talk to a pixie who was, on the face of it, personable. Or should that be pixieable? How about we go with civil.

With her help, we gathered Songberries (they're just so good for mood). And she directed me to Shieldcap - several pixies were trying on different mushroom caps for fit and comfort. And colour - getting the right shade was a big part of the discussions there.

I was about to head back to the pixie gathering when I heard the strangest rhythm: tap, tap, shuffle, tap, tap, pounce, croak. Peering around a few trees, I saw these weird pink toads, gathered in small groups, dancing. It was funny to watch, that they did it with such solemnity, I had to guess it was some sort of... I don't know... courtship dance maybe? Like trying to impress the other toads with their... big jumps maybe? Dancing skills? Ability to get down and boogie? But a serious boogie. Anyway, I watched for a good long while. At some point it finished and I was able to collect mucous off overhanging leaves and (and I can't believe I'm writing this) their poop. Just call me the Princess Toad Latrine Girl.

I did eventually return to the pixies. I noticed everyone was drinking something warm and rich-smelling. When I asked what it was, I was told it was Coffee Cap, that it grew over that-a-way and that I could go get some now since it was time for me to leave. Although I'd hoped to get some more Rat Spit before heading off, I suppose I should be happy that they merely told me to leave rather than curse me. So... Coffee Cap - yes! Rat Spit - no!

Like I said, it'd been a couple of days. They were good, productive days. Igor kept the camp running well, and in fact is quite the chef. I don't think I've eaten as well, out here in the forest, as I have in my time in the cottage. "Ah well, you know", he said when I complemented his culinary skills, "it'th alwayth thatithfying to cook for more than jutht yourthelf. The marthter, you know, doethn't eat anything. He provideth for hith own nourithment. Tho I'm having fun cooking for thuch an apprethiative mithtress."

At some point, after another filling meal, I found myself asking about the old witch's interest with the Count. "It wathn't thomething I wath privy to. It ith a bit... odd... to theek out the company of a vampire, or a necromanther, or both, but thee did. The marthter, I think he enjoyed the company. The dead, near-dead, theudo-dead, thorta-dead... did you know necromanthers have fifty words for dead and death?... anyway, they aren't much for converthation. And it'th above my thtathion to thpeak to the marthter. Tho I think he got lonely on occathion. He may even have lotht a bit of hith pathion for the work. Thuth my fear he'd abandon it and leave with her. Tho along with hiding her letter to him, I kept giving her a Travel Guide to the The Imperial Thity. I hope thee's enjoying it there."

Well... that explains a lot.

I was going to ask more about that when I got a feeling. A request to return. And not to wait. I took a minute to pretend to relieve myself so that I could ask MouseEye if he'd felt anything. He had.

I strode confidently to Igor and let him know that I felt it was time to head home. He took one look at me, said, "Yeth, Mithtrith", and we quickly packed up and started back.

Just like our walk out, it was dark heading back. I was certainly walking faster heading back home, or what I hope was still my home, partly out of a desire to be in the cottage again and partly out of trepidation of what I'd find.

The cottage was quiet and still as we approached. Light did glow out from the windows and smoke and the occasional ember rose out of the chimney. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

I opened the door and found everything as I'd left it. Nothing broken, no mess, no disorder. Sitting at my table was the vampire, Richard, looking at me. Not violent. Not angry. No animosity showing. Just... abashed, I think. Bemused. Even sheepish. "Good evening, Mistress Sweetwater. I owe you an apology and an explanation.

"First, the explanation. When I became aware of the spirit that resides here, and I believe you've begun calling it also "not here", I felt I had to explore the phenomenon. What I didn't realize was the extent of that energy, nor of its desire for its privacy and ability to defend itself from unwanted intrusion. I've already tendered my apologies to the entity, and now I do so to you. Frankly, I had thought you, an unassuming girl, wouldn't be aware of the energies and that I could take advantage of that. I was wrong. I'm truly sorry to have disturbed you and this place."

"And why are you telling me this?"

"Because that was part of the agreement I made to cease hostilities. To be blunt, in the battle of wills between myself and the entity, I was suddenly beset by the most noxious, odious, little creatures I've ever encountered. Vicious little things."

"They're probably the result of poisoning the doctor."

"Really? Comeuppance too, in the mix. Fitting, I suppose."

I just stood there, watching, listening, processing.

"However, I would be most obliged if you could prepare that cure for Silver Burn. I have money."

I glanced at the spirit house. MouseEye peered out from it, all smiles. He gave me a sign that it was ok to brew it up. It meant having Richard in my house for longer than I wanted, but I did quickly brew it.

He applied it to his hands, then drank the rest. A look of relief crossed his face. "Thank you. Here's your fee. And please know I meant you no harm." And with that, he headed for the door. Before he left, he looked over his shoulder. "I cleaned up as best as I could. Would you like Igor to give it a once-over? The mess those little creatures can spread is... nauseatingly impressive. Please excuse any mess I missed. Now, allow me to bid you adieu."

I sat down in my chair and looked up at the spirit house again. "Will you tell me what happened?" The feeling I got back was one of comfort, security, warmth. The feelings a child might get from a parent who won't share the events of the day but gives reassurance instead.

I sat and watched the fire slowly die down to embers, then out, leaving me in the comforting dark of the cottage.

Vol 1 (Narration Only, Episodes 0 - 6, aka Prologue - Week 3 Rest) is Now Live!

 Hey there,

For anyone wanting to listen to the narrated stories (and without all the explanations and whatnot), this video is for you. Nearly two hours of storytelling that covers the Prologue through the Week 3 Rest Episode is now live. I hope you enjoy!

Also Spring, Week 4 - A Poem For Pip

To hear the narration (and learn how I put the episode together, check out this link:

*****

 Two days. If anyone ever asks if things can get messy working as a witch, not only is the answer "yes" but I know how messy. The answer is two days worth of scrubbing, soaking, mopping, scraping, and airing. 

Vomit people, while, I'm sure, are quite lovely, they are tremendously messy. And stinky. 

As predicted, the cleaning worked my anger out over the doctor's atrocious attitude to my work and the cures, both of them, I effected. 

Ok - maybe not completely over it, but at least I can think of him as a difficult patient and not as someone to be shunned. No doubt, at some point, a patient of mine will reject my efforts or not have a cure within their own timeframe and go to the doctor instead. I just hope they're prepared to have their urine examined. 

I have to admit that that still makes me chuckle. Like that's going to tell you anything! And the bleeding thing! Keep more of your bits on the inside, I say, rather than feed leeches. Oh well - each to their own.

Anyway, it feels good to finally have things clean and smelling good again. I realize it's part of the job, dealing with magical maladies, but still! Maybe I could ask for a cleanup fee.

Or not. After all, I still have a mess I'll need to handle at some point in the future - that meeting I promised that weird, three-armed Igor and his "marthter", the vampiric necromancer. Named "Count". Although that's probably just his title, just like mine's "witch". I wonder what his real name is. Probably best not to ask - he'd want me to reveal mine and that's just not going to happen.

I didn't give a specific date for it. Maybe that would delay it indefinitely? Watch - some day, an hour or two after sundown, they'll show up on the grounds. 

Best not to think that again and tempt fate! However, if it happens, I'll just deal with it. Of course, it's easier being brave here where the cottage and grounds are either living things or connected to something far more powerful than I can comprehend. 

Trusting in that, I go to bed, exhausted from my cleaning efforts, wiped from working through my emotions, but enjoying the smell of clean...

*****

... and wake to the morning smells of Spring on the breeze, the sun just rising, the familiar sounds outside, the enfolding warmth of a slept-in bed whose tendrils gently try to lull me back to sleep. In a word, normal.

It's tempting to close my eyes again and give myself a sleep-in day, but a thought struck me regarding my reagents and I'm looking forward to put it into practice. And that, while I might be able to do while lying in bed, head on pillow, warm blanket wrapped around me against the morning chill... zzzzz... 

*****

... with the sun shining down, the day well underway... I guess I needed that extra doze!

But enough sleeping, sleepy-head! Time to get doing!

And so I did. And with my morning routine out of the way, it's time to... what's that on the mantlepiece? A basket? How did a basket get there?

Did Dr. Know-It-All sneak in here and drop it off as an apology for being insufferable? I mean... it'd be nice if that were the case and he was truly sorry and all, but how would he have gotten it in here without my knowing?

What a mystery! I suppose I should look for a note.

Oh! It's from Pip! This is a pleasant surprise! And there's something called Coffee Weed, a bit of honey, a bit of tea (her favourite), some Skeleton Dust, some Vampire Venom, and three chocolate chunk cookies!

Strange! I just dealt with an ailment using those last two!

Is it possible she's more here and less not here?

She likes asking questions (this time it's about ducks) so maybe I should ask something and see if she's experiencing the same things I am.

Ok - let's not get ahead of ourselves. Let's first brew up her tea (and add the honey - sounds yummy!), and take things one step at a time.

Let's see... maybe a bit of a To Do List.

In no particular order:

1. Enjoy tea
2. Figure out how to divide up the cookies. The look delicious, so I bet others will enjoy them as much as I will
3. Catalogue my reagents, including this new one
4. Thank Pip properly

#1 is easy. Tick!

#2 - I'd like some cookie. They look so good! But I bet MouseEye would like some. And a piece should go into the spirit house. Ooh! As should a spot of this wonderful tea! So one for me, one for mouse-y, and then the house makes three. Tick!

#3 - I'm going to organize my reagents by what they cure, with a division in those lists for location. For instance, for Mood reagents, I currently have two. So I'll list them on the Mood page like this:

Mood

Wigfish - 3 stars - Meltwater Loch

Songberries - 1 star - Glimmerwood Grove

I figure the most important attributes of any reagent is what are its efficacies. So seeing that is a better way to organize a reagent list than most any other way. (Of course, this being totally untried, it may be a bunch of work that ends up being a waste, but I figure I'll try it, have a bit of fun as I do it - maybe enlist MouseEye's help - and see how it works out. Nothing ventured, nothing gained).

But before I do that, I need to focus properly on my note back to Pip. And to do that, I need to sip on some more tea, take a bite of this cookie (Oh my, it's so good!), and compose something appropriate.

I think I'll compose a bit of a poem. It's something I've been thinking about doing, so maybe I'll share my first one with her. And include a bit of Wild Rose since it's growing so nicely in its plot. Ok... to compose... some ideas... like being here but yet here and seeing the sky and wondering if we see the same thing. Hmmm...

The cloud that I see

White, fluffy, free

I wonder, can it be

that you see it too

Or is it only me?

It carries smiles

from me to you

across miles and miles

Hmmm... not bad!

And now, I think, I'm going to do not much. This witch needs her rest! 

Spring, Week 4 - Don't Interrupt Necromancers

To hear the narration (and to hear how I put the episode together), check out the video:

*****

 I've gotten into the habit of taking a bit of time daily to sit quietly in the cottage and looking up at the spirit house I built. And improved. It no longer resembles a lean-to. I won't say it's a proper house, but I'm happy to call what it is currently a house. Or at least resembles a house. Whatever. It's good enough for now.

As to why I do this... it's partly because it feels right and respectful. After three weeks of banging around, not really knowing what I was doing, but insisting I did know - to the point of nearly dismissing MouseEye - I felt a need to reset a bit. The last few days were a good start and I'm hoping to continue.

Another reason is I keep wondering if another letter, maybe from my new bestie Pip, who I'll probably never meet, or maybe from someone else, might arrive at any time. I've never been one for friendships but for the life of me I don't understand why I'm so fixated on watching the mail portal. Maybe I'm waiting to see what happens if someone sends something really big.

As I sit, my mind does love to wonder. Endless speculating. Like that idea of a big letter trying to squeeze out from behind my spirit house. But another topic that I've begun to ruminate on is the ramifications of not being able to treat someone, or of having them leaving dissatisfied because I wasn't able to effect a cure or do so quickly enough. To be honest, I've been harbouring these thoughts for a little while. Private speculation. But today I saw MouseEye was awake and around, so I asked.

He twitched his whiskers (it's so cute when he does that), then shrugged. "I know there's a doctor, of sorts, in High Rannoc. I guess they'd go to him."

"Of sorts?"

He shrugged again. "Mmhmm."

I stopped myself from asking why he gave a qualified answer. If MouseEye wanted to share, he would. So I internally shrugged back. And hit on another topic.

There's no doubt there's an underlying spirit or wisdom existing on the grounds. Or in the grounds. The wild rose recovering nearly instantly from being trampled. The bees so quickly becoming part of the property. Maybe even my ability, as an untrained novice, to not only recognize but safely collect reagents and then brew them into potions that are effective. Imagine someone using pine bark and bat guano to create a potion that would decrease flatulence! But that's how I feel. Yes - I have the book and something definitely happened when I read it. A knowledge transference of sorts.

Is the old witch somehow still here? Here yet not here? Here, inside me? I can't say I'm comfortable at all with that thought. However, I don't feel like there's someone inside me or with me. I feel like my thoughts are mine and not someone else's. But definitely something to keep in mind. Not everything is as it seems.

The rest of the day progressed normally - cooking, cleaning, reading the book, and trying to teach myself about places I haven't been to yet - all the chores that keep a place organized and functioning well. And then, tired, I went to bed. Only to be woken by MouseEye with a cryptic message, "Someone needing your help is coming."

It took me a second to react, but I did shake off the cobwebs, got dressed, and just started stoking the fire when a wild-eyed man pounded on my door. As I opened it, he fell forward into my living space, all the while looking over his shoulder, like he was being chased. His hoarse screams, or more like a rough, breathy, very muted pseudo-screams, were just creepy. What had he seen that had induced such fear and panic?

That thought was interrupted by his vomiting onto my floor. Had it been a normal spilling of stomach yuck, that would have been one thing. But when the vomit, instead of simply launching from mouth to floor, formed itself into a little dancing figure that then ran out my door into the night, that was something else. If only it hadn't left little vomit footsteps on my formerly clean floor.

Anyway, out the door the vomit-man went, I stood bemused, and the hoarse man hoarsely screamed again and tried to hide under my bed. Clearly, I needed more light - maybe that'd stop the fear reaction. Maybe?

A few minutes later, the fire was high enough to provide decent light. The intermittent screaming hadn't stopped, nor had the intermittent vomiting. He'd let loose twice more - one had become a small four-legged creature and hid in my cauldron (ewww!) and the other had squeezed under my bed and, I swear this is true, was making faces at the man.

With the light up, I could see the panicked white of his eyes, his vivid green skin, and incredibly white hair. Which didn't make sense - his body hair (eyebrows, arm hair, facial hair shadow) were all black. Something had scared him half-to-death. Which helped explain the screaming.

But green skin? Vomiting magical vomit? Not a fear reaction. That was more like a poisoning.

Dealing with the poisoning was the priority - without prompt treatment, things could become... complicated. Who knows just what it was that someone had brewed, or that he'd eaten, or whatever, and what could result. But there was no doubt, what with the animated vomitus, that he'd been poisoned and it had a magical element.

As another vomit creature ran across the floor, I bent down and tried to let my patient know I was going to gather reagents to deal with the poisoning, and that we'd tackle the fear reaction next. Maybe dealing with the poisoning would deal with the other too? I was hoping.

I gathered up my stuff and headed off. At night. To Hero's Hollow. 

Ah man.

Yup - my favourite place in the whole world and I get to go there in the dark.

I tried to be brave. I tried to look up at the stars and I tried to believe they would look out for me. I tried to remember that the spirit of the cottage hadn't steered me wrong yet, even when I was out of line. And I knew MouseEye would be with me and would do what he could to keep me safe.

Despite all my worry, all my alerting to every shriek and call and snap and more - the thousand sounds the wilderness makes at night - I got to the dungeon safely. The hardest part of the night so far, getting to the Hollow, was past. Now to navigate the now hardest part - the dungeon itself. One more round of thoughts towards asking for help and guidance from the cottage, the stars, MouseEye, whomever was bothering to listen, and then I entered.

The good part about going to the Hollow at night is that your eyes don't need to adjust. You go from outdoor dark to indoor dark, which is a different quality of dark, the indoor one being more complete, but dark to dark is fairly easy.

I relaxed and made my way into the dungeon. I knew I had to work quickly so I made my way to where I hoped I could find Coldrust. It's a blue rust that feeds on magical artifacts. I was hoping I could find that type of thing in the armoury spaces. A rusty magical weapon would be perfect for my uses.

As I walked quickly, I started to hear other footsteps. They weren't my steps echoing along corridors. It sounded like a small army. But an army in thick socks. The chest!

I spotted it as it turned a corner and ran towards me. It was a happy run, an eager run, a run that hoped I had a treat in my pocket. Feeling far more confident than I had a right to, I patted my pocket and felt a treat there. Thank you, MouseEye. I didn't say it aloud, but I heard him from close by, "You're welcome."

I gave the treat. It seemed happy. So I took an extra minute to give it some pets and scrunches. I think it purred. So I told it I was here to gather some things and asked if it wanted to help. I think it yapped happily. So we all headed for the armory, where we did indeed find Coldrust. One down!

Next up was Flood Bulb. There are two places where you can generally find it - traps that are based on water, and in canteens - nothing stores water more efficiently. And so despite asking the chest for help and prepared to go wherever it led, I expected we'd go to the kitchens. And we did. It did require some gentle handling - you absolutely don't want a bulb to burst inside your pack!

As we were leaving the kitchens and heading through the cafeteria/mess hall, I spotted another lucky find - Ghost Goo. Apparently a ghost was spending a lot of time in and around where everyone ate. Maybe it was the ghost of one of the only people ever to have lived that liked mass-produced food. A slop-loving memory? Anyway, for whatever reason, a ghost was leaving bits of goo all over the tables. And so I grabbed it gratefully.

We headed back to the dungeon's entrance, the chest padding along with MouseEye and I. One more set of scrunches and I was heading back to the cottage.

Oh, the reek as I approached. I almost wished it smelled like bog goblin again. Vomit people ran out to meet me. Vomit creatures were running amok in the cottage. It was nasty. Pandemonium. Unbearable. "Sir? You have to get your vomit under control! I can't brew in these conditions!"

He pointed out the door, did another hoarse scream, and out they went. I mopped up the necessary equipment and started prepping. I tossed the Coldrust and Flood Bulb into the mortar and started working them. The water that flooded out of the bulb was more than plenty for my potion - the water that flowed onto my floor would help me clean it later. 

My patient drank the offered cup. His skin seemed to lighten slightly from a deep green to a more faded one. And, thankfully, he stopped vomiting. As a side note, I think the vomit people found an abandoned gopher tunnel system. I wish them the best.

Anyway... with that crisis dealt with, it was time to deal with the root cause of all this. The potion, thankfully, gave my patient enough voice back that, while difficult to understand, was in the end understandable.

Not that what he told me was at all sensical. While the number of shrieks decreased, and the vomiting stopped, the few words he was able to utter between his screams said only something about a necromancer. 

Right. So... someone in the local area is doing magic and working with death? Ok - it's easy to see how seeing something, especially if you're unprepared to see something, could give you a terrible fright. 

And the funny (strange, not haha) bit is that the reagents I need to deal with this are in Hero's Hollow (oh yay! Another trip to that warm and fuzzy place) and have to do with necromancy: Vampire Venom and Skeleton Dust.

Or maybe I could simply brew something up involving pine bark and bat guano? Tempting but... no.

As I got ready to head out again, I kept an eye on my patient. Still wild-eyed frightened? Yup. Still intermittently screaming? Yup. But, for now anyway, not giving the appearance of being ready to bolt out the door.

"Sir? It's going to take me a bit of time to address your fright. Please know you are safe here. There's plenty of wood to keep the fire going, keep the cottage warm, and provide lots of light. When I get back, we'll have you feeling calmer, ok?" I got a nod. Good enough. And off I went.

The sun was just rising. The last bits of low-lying mist were just starting to burn off, revealing dew-draped undergrowth. The land looked magical!

I must admit my thoughts drifted to the whole concept of magic. I suppose, for example, the work I do could be seen by some as magic, despite my not adding any sort of supernatural anything to my potions. If reagents carry power, then I'll happily use that power, but as far as waving a magic wand over a bubbling cauldron to create some sort of malevolent miasma that would swallow High Rannoc just wasn't in the cards. Same with a healing vapour that nightly would take away people's hurts, wounds... even nightmares. 

Imagine that - a vapour that would help people feel better and healthier. I wondered if something like that could be created. Hmmm... interesting. But feels more like magical meddling than healing people who ask for help with bespoke potions. 

Before I knew it, I was back at the Hollows. Now to work through the new challenge of collecting harder reagents. Time to find some vampires. Ugh. Which meant exploring deeper into the dungeon. 

I made my way deeper in than I'd gone before. I half-hoped the walking chest would show up - that would have been comforting. Maybe if I asked...?

"MouseEye?"

"Mmhmm."

I tried to keep the quaver from my voice. "You wouldn't happen to know where a vampire is, would you?"

"Mmhmm."

I love it when he's so forthcoming. In a dark, scary, and frankly horrible place. "Are we going the right way?"

"Mmhmm."

Both good and bad news in my book, both involving getting closer and closer to a vampire. I asked MouseEye to keep me on track. And that track felt darker, more musty, and quite dank.

Why can't I spend more time in more pleasant places? Glimmerwood Grove is so lovely. The trees, the wildflowers, the...

"Greetingth Mithtrith."

The voice scared the beejeebers out of me. It was behind me - which in how in the world did anyone get behind me? - but at the same time the voice was quite calm. Almost welcoming. I froze, closed my eyes tightly (somehow that was supposed to bolster my nonexistent courage), and turned around slowly. Standing there was a figure. The lack of light made seeing details, like the person's face, difficult, but the bearing seemed... ok? I think a smile was on their face. And I say "their" because the voice gave nothing away about its sex. All I was getting was polite patient curiosity. 

I figured I needed to respond at some point. "Um... hi."

"Greetingth again, Mithtrith. If I may obtherve, you appear leth lotht than unthertin. May I help you in thome way?"

Ummm... sure. Why not. What could go wrong? Even if MouseEye isn't visible, I know he's close. "Yeth... oh, sorry - yes." They didn't react at all to my list slip. "I'm looking for a vampire."

That caused, I think, eyebrows to rise. "It'th not common that thomeone theeks out a vampire. May I enquire your reathonth for doing tho?"

I saw no harm in saying I needed a vampire's venom.

"Ah! Tho you are a witch, then? Exthellent! Follow me, pleathe."

We walked down another corridor - I'm not sure if I would've spotted it on my own - and arrived at a small room. It had a small table with a couple of chairs in it, a candle that provided a bit of light, and an open book lay in front.

"Pleathe excuthe the meth. Marthter and I don't get many vithiterth. Have a theat."

I sat down slowly. Maybe even warily. Marthter?

"I don't mean to be rude, but who is your master?"

The figure came into the candlelight.

Note to self - if my patient saw this person unexpectedly, that could explain their fright. While some features spoke to good-natured friendliness, like the shy smile and gentle eyes, others were less so. The mass of scars and stitching all about their face and head, the third arm sticking out from their chest, and the small knife in that hand. My eyes glued onto it.

He looked down. "Oh! My apologieth! I feel motht comfortable with a thcapel in my hand. Thith one, however, ithn't for thurgery - it'th my dip pen." He set it down on the table then he sat in the other chair. It felt menacing but he seemed to be ignoring it.

"My marthter ith a vampire. He'th currently thleeping. It'th been a buthy night and, of courthe, it'th now day. Tho, what ith it you need venom for?"

I told him - definitely a him - about my patient. The scarred man laughed. I think it was good-natured. 

"Thorry, but you mutht thee the humour here. Your pathient came down latht night. He wanted a reanimated thkeleton, for thome reathon. Thcared my marthter motht terribly - he jutht popped out of nowhere, interrupted a delicate piethe of magical work. Which cauthed a rather dramatic meth, I'm telling you. And that thcared all of uth. Marthter had to thcramble to keep the world from imploding, the man fled into my laboratory, and I had to run after him. Marthter, of courths, would want him punithed, tho I got him to drink a pothon that would eventually turn him into a zombie. Temporarily, of courthe. Anyway, marthter called for me, tho I had to leave the man to hith own devitheth. Apparently, he ran to you. And now you wish to cure him."

Gulp. "I hope that's ok with you."

"Oh, thertanly. I bear him no ill will and like I thaid, marthter only wanted him punithed for a little while. Let'th thee... for a fright, you'll altho want thkeleton dutht. Correct?"

I could only nod.

"Wonderful. Let me take you to where you can wait. It'th the library, of thorts. I think you'll find thingth of interetht there."

The library turned out to be quite the space. The room was big and airy, book shelves lined the walls, and a ready supply of candles meant it would be easy to browse the volumes. As I started to look around, the scarred servant asked, "What happened to the old witch? Do you know?"

"No, sorry. I just moved in recently. All there was about her whereabouts was a few lines in a book that she'd written and had open. It said that if I was reading it, she must be either missing or dead."

"Hmmm... pity. Marthter quite liked her. Oh well." And with that, he was off. And I can't say that I paid much attention to his leaving. The books were drawing my attention. The range of topics was so diverse - how to reanimate anything from an ant to a dragon and all manner of creatures in between, getting answers to questions by calling on the spirits of the dead, creating loyal servants through the use of potions, and more. 

Creating loyal servants? Using potions? Um... note to self - politely decline any and all offers of beverages.

I don't know how long I'd been in there. I was just transfixed. This place was amazing. So full of secrets, knowledge, ancient wisdom... and then I discovered a letter tucked in an unassuming spot between two large volumes detailing the life and times of assorted necromancers from the distant past. It wasn't sealed or anything, so I opened it. I couldn't help but notice that the handwriting was familiar. Very familiar. It was the same as in my book. The old witch had written it. I sat down and read the whole thing.

The salutation read "My dearest Count". The letter itself was a goodbye. That she was going to be heading for someplace called "The Imperial City" and that that trip was bound to be long, dangerous, but entirely necessary - "...for reasons we've discussed at length and don't bear repeating again." But it was also an invitation - that the Count should go to her before she left in the morning. She promised a delightful night by way of goodbye but that she also understood that accepting that invitation could be too much to ask for. And something about her ambivalence about traveling with Humphrey. I gathered Humphrey was a pet. A pet cow.

Huh. A cow? As a pet? That was weird.

"Ah! I thee you found her letter."

I felt blurry, fuzzy, just deep into all this reading. Unnaturally muddled.

"The old witch would visit the Hollow routinely. Found all thorth of excutheth to thtay. One time to give bootieth to the Mimic, another time to rethycle metal in the old prithon block. Alwayth vithiting, alwayth hoping the marthter would notithe her."

I just nodded while fighting off the cog fog. "And did he notice her?"

The scarred servant looked pained. "Yeth. Thee wath a terrible dithtraction. I feared he'd thtop her from leaving, or worthe, go with her! Tho I hid that letter. He thinkth thee abandoned him. Got him good and angry. Focuthed. And he very nearly completed hith experiment latht night."

I was recovering. "And nearly imploded the world."

He shrugged. "There are rithkth to what he doeth." Then he added, "If it maketh you feel any better, you'd never know that it'd happened. One second ok, the next second gone."

Uh huh. Don't argue with the servant of a necromancer. Get what you came for and get out. "Do you have the reagents you went to get for me?"

"Don't you want to thtay and read some more? The Marthter wath looking forward to talking to you. I'm brewing up a lovely tea."

Politely decline! "Oh! No, thank you. I really need to get back. Um... how long have I been in here?"

"Oh... not long."

"Oh! Well... maybe I could..." Which is when I spotted MouseEye sitting on a shelf behind the scarred servant gesticulating, and loudly gesticulating, if gestures could make noise, that I should leave. "... just take the reagents from you, with gratitude, and then head back."

He paused for a second, then, "The Igor Code requireth that I uphold an untholithited offer. But pleathe promithe that you'll pay uth a vithit thome other day."

I said I would. MouseEye grimaced but that seemed to be the only way to get my reagents and leave without further incident.

As we made our way back, I asked MouseEye about his reaction. "It's ok. You promised to visit both Igor and the vampire. Which means it'll have to be at night. When the Count's awake. But we can prepare adequately and keep you safe."

"But I thought it'd be ok. The old witch..."

"The old witch may or may not have been... manipulated. but the fact that she left of her own accord means she either wasn't magicked, or she figured out a way out of it. Anyway, it'll be fine." The comforting part of his message was dispelled with his mumbled, "I hope."

Great. Well, time later to worry about that. I had a panicked patient, probably impatient, waiting.

To his credit, he was still waiting at the cottage. White knuckles gripped the table, feet tapped, knees bounced, white hair practically frizzled with electricity. If I didn't know better, it looked like he'd eaten a lot of laxative and was about to lose his battle with the call of nature. Actually... I didn't know better. So, I hoped I wouldn't be cleaning up more than sticky vomit prints.

It took no time at all to crush the skeleton bone into dust and sprinkle it onto the venom in the bottom of a cup. He drank it down willingly. Within a couple of minutes, the knuckles turned a calmer pink, the feet and knees stopped their incessant movement, his eyes lost their wildness, and his head began to slump onto his chest. And seconds later, he was snoring in my bed. *sigh* At least someone gets to grab some rest. I stepped outside and began my morning routine.

To be frank, I wasn't happy my bed was being used by anyone other than me. Never mind that others may have dozed on it while I was working, and that the old witch most certainly used it prior to my moving in, but still! And yet, to be fair, with what he'd been through, no doubt he was tired.

And then I realized he'll probably be ravenous when he wakes. So... time to prepare food for two. Which also means he spends more time here.

As I got back to work, I thought about my thoughts about this prolonged visit. And how much I didn't like it. The intrusion into my life here was something I simply disliked. But I'd manage today. Be polite, be professional, be sympathetic, be gently insistent that he leave.

I didn't get my chance to be all that for several hours. But he did finally emerge, looking much calmer and relaxed. And as predicted, he was hungry.

I thought it'd be a great opportunity to hear his story. Or at least the reasons behind his story. After all, I already knew where he'd been when things went bad. I wanted to know the why.

It took nothing to get him talking. I started to pry and he just opened up. "I don't believe I properly introduced myself last night. Cornelius McTwitter, physician to the town of High Rannoc. Pleased to make your acquaintance. My apologies for the state I was in last night. Completely unprofessional on my part. And to think it was all from my attempt to purchase a skeleton. Reanimated skeleton. No better kind to have in a medical office. I can have it point out to my patients the parts of the body affected when dealing with medical issues. By the way, I noticed you seem to be lacking a reanimated skeleton."

I agreed that I didn't possess one.

He nodded in acknowledgement. "In fact, I don't see that you have much of an establishment at all. No books, no laboratory equipment. How do you properly examine someone's urine without a laboratory?"

"I don't see the need. For instance, I cured you of your afflictions and didn't need to use any equipment."

"And you have no leeches. How can you balance humours without bleeding a patient?"

I just smiled and said, "Again, I cured you without them."

He looked indignant. "But certainly you just got lucky! Or I was already on the mend!"

I was getting testy. "You were on your way to becoming a zombie because you interrupted a necromancer in the middle of a magical spell and his Igor handed you a potion that was a poison that you drank." 

"Now really! That's too much. I mean, yes, I did go to see the gentleman and he did look busy, but how else do you arrange to purchase a reanimated skeleton. It's not like he consigns them through Bits & Bobs."

"That gentleman is a vampire."

"Oh, pish! Nonsense! Vampire, indeed!"

"That was vampire venom you just drank."

He scoffed. "Probably something completely innocuous, like a wildflower root. Witches have all sorts of scary-sounding names for not-scary things."

Right. I was done. "Well, I'm glad to see you have an appetite again. So if you don't mind, I do have things I need to tend to, like cleaning up little vomit-people footprints. And I'm sure your clinic needs its doctor back."

"Oh! Yes! Didn't realize it was getting on in the day. What do I owe you?"

Since these were more serious conditions, I increased my price. Thirty silver for each cure, sixty total. The lunch I threw in for free. The hours of scrubbing my cottage clean of the ravages of last night's chaos would help me release my rage at his ignorance. 

He didn't blink as he laid the money on the table. "Right! A very good day to you." And with that, he left. And I breathed a sigh of relief.

Also Spring, Week 3 - Here Yet Not Here

Here's the video on how I wrote the Here Yet Not Here episoide:

Rainy days. A part of me knows they are absolutely necessary to keep things green and lush. And they tend to keep everyone indoors so there's far fewer chances of anyone doing anything that would end up bringing them here. For me, it meant lingering in bed, then getting a comfortable fire going - a warm dry room against the wet chill outside is just lovely. It was a good time to reflect on the past couple of weeks, to spend some time coming to terms with myself and my witchy role, and getting to know MouseEye better.

I'd made an actual small house on my mantlepiece. It wasn't much - a few sticks, some string to keep the pieces together, and the little things I'd gathered for it. So maybe "house" was too much word for the lean-to it actually was, but on the other hand it was a structure, I'd made it intending for it to be a house, and most importantly, I'd made it. Pride of ownership, pride of craftsmanship. And I should add pride of potionship!

I poured myself a tea then set a second cup under my lean-to. House! My house! My lean house.

And I guess that's a thing too. I did have, again, a bit of money in my pocket. But to be able to afford much more in terms of tools or upgrading of equipment, I'd have to live a bit lean for a time.

No matter - I was used to that sort of living.

Going from having no money - and having little concept of how much things cost - to having money and seeing exactly how much things cost! - back to having a little money - it was all a lot to take in. But I'd bought a hive, an investment I know will pay dividends well into the future, and my next purchases (when I can finally afford them) will do the same. Maybe I didn't know the value of a piece of silver but I did know the value of basic math!

And speaking of math... and things not adding up (nice segue, I think) - there's the matter of the Smooth Croak in my pocket to feed the weird chest thing. I know I hadn't put it there, so there was only one way it'd ended up there - MouseEye. How had he known I'd need it?

After I'd taken some time to just sit and think and do some deep breathing, I asked MouseEye about it.

He was laying under the lean-to (House!!!), eyes half-closed (appropriate for being under a half-house), when I asked the question. His eyes didn't open as he responded. "Getting it into your pocket was simple. You didn't even notice the spoon you walked around with all that day. As to why I put it there... you know how the bees and I talked and we understood each other even though we don't speak each other's languages? It was like that - I just knew I had to do it. So I did. And I think you experienced something of the sort with the bees. Same basic thing."

That was something. Maybe it had something to do with the land? Did it somehow know things ahead of time? Or maybe MouseEye did? I knew there were bound to be surprises related to the cottage but this was more than I'd anticipated!

"Is that how you knew I'd be fine with the sphinx?"

"Mmhmm."

"So what about inside Hero's Hollow? Did you know that was going to happen?"

MouseEye opened his eyes. "I know little bits here and there. I don't know everything. Especially when they go wrong."

"But you knew I'd be ok down there, right? You knew I'd be safe?"

He closed his eyes and didn't answer.

After a minute, I murmured to myself, "I'll take that as a 'no'."

The silence felt awkward. I knew I had a tendency to get angry or snappy or snarky. I decided to surprise myself, if no one else, with some gratitude. "MouseEye, you are amazing. You can see bits of the future and, as much as you can, you help me and my patients. Thank you for everything you do."

I watched as MouseEye peeked up a bit, pressed his front paws together in what I think could be called a Prayer Pose, wiggled his whiskers, and said, "You're welcome, Mistress." And then, instead of settling back down, he looked more attentive.

This was promising! I decided to ask another question. "When you disappear, say in the air balloon with Madcap, you said you don't always stay with me. So... where do you go?"

To his credit, MouseEye didn't answer at first, but instead just looked thoughtful. "It's hard to describe. But I'm glad you asked because it's something that should be shared."

I knew well enough to allow him to speak in his own time. This felt momentous. 

"Let's talk about this cottage. The old witch lived in it, maybe will again, maybe not, but in the past she lived here."

I nodded but had no idea where this was going.

"So you came here. You were formerly living in a woodcutter's cottage. Following so far?"

I didn't see why I wouldn't be, but ok. I nodded again.

"What do you think would have happened if somebody else had moved in?"

I had no idea. "Apply to be an apprentice? Go back home? Maybe work with Francie as a domestic?"

MouseEye nodded. "What if you'd never successfully made it here? Like the wagon was attacked by bandits? Or you had to stay home to take care of your ailing father?"

I... what? Ailing father? Was he ok?

"Nonono! I don't know anything about your father, or your mother for that matter. I'm just asking what would've happened to the witch's cottage."

I was drawing blanks.

"It would eventually attract a witch. It's a witch's cottage. At some point a witch would live here."

I nodded slowly.

"Here's where it gets tricky. What if, at roughly the same time, all the possible people who could live in the cottage did live in this cottage."

Tricky. He did say "tricky". But he didn't say "impossible". So I did.

"Well... sort of. Because while you are here and experiencing your life with me, as time goes on there are other witches who are experiencing their lives with their familiars. All at the same time that you are. Unlike most of them, you've just been told that they also live in their cottages, which are their versions of the cottage, and this cottage is your version of the cottage. See?"

Ah... nope. Not at all.

"Ok, how about this - I was at one point, and for a very short period of time, in another version of this cottage."

I know my face was a complete furrowed mess. So much for a relaxing day. Metaphysics was what I'd really intended.

"And I brought something back with me. But I didn't know how to tell you who it's from. So... here..."

Once again, a surprise came out from behind the lean-to. A letter. A small folded up letter. From someone named Pip. 

Pip's letter (with a background of my journal)

It said:

Hi I'm Pip

I'm living in this cottage. It's a bit lonely sometimes. 

Do you want to be penpals?

Elaborate box for yes. A very plain (and much smaller) box for no.

It was signed "Your new bestie Pip"

And then a PS - please check yes.

And the note was covered in hearts!

A new bestie? Living here but not here?

I looked at MouseEye in amazement. "This person is someone else who...?"

"Mmhmm."

Wow. So... ok.

"Can I send a letter back?"

"Mmhmm."

Ok. So time to grab a bit of paper, a pencil, and...

"Sorry. Almost forgot. Here's this..."

He pulled a reagent I'd never seen before out from where the letter had been. As I looked at it, I asked, "Is there anything else back there I should know about?"

"No. Not yet, anyway."

Not yet? Well... I suppose letters can come through there. Anyway - the reagent. A plant, certainly. Maybe it's...

"Oh yeah - it's called 'Rosemary'. Good for relaxation and something called 'Branching Out'."

I didn't know what to do with it. It isn't in the witch's notes. How...?

MouseEye to the rescue. He saw my confusion. "I think the old witch didn't know everything there is to know. You may find this useful when you need to treat someone who has an affliction not on the list."

Huh. She maybe didn't know everything? The book isn't all there is to witching? I think the ground dropped out from underneath me. Luckily, I was still seated so the ground was close at hand.

The world swirled around me. Other witches, here but not here? Witches sending me letters from here but not here? I...

My hand brushed past my tea cup. Newly filled tea cup. MouseEye, with eyes closed and head resting on his paws, was still up on the mantlepiece.

Surprises indeed.

"MouseEye? If I write a letter to Pip, will you deliver it?"

I expected one answer, but didn't receive it.

"Mmhmm."

This is what I wrote.

Hi Pip! I'm... call me Sweet!

You make lovely hearts. I hope you don't mind if I don't make them too.

I'd love to be your penpal! Tick mark in a Yes box.

And yes, it is lonely being a witch. But a little less so now that I know you are living here yet not here in the cottage (MouseEye tried to explain it to me but I still don't get it.)

Your best bestie back!

Sweet