Spring, Week 7 - That Which Giveth, That Which Taketh Away

To hear the narration and learn how I put the episode together, check out the video:

*****

 The days are getting longer, the nights shorter. Nature is drinking up the sunshine, bringing life and activity to the land. Not to say that the land's been dead! Far from it! But there's a noticeable difference in tonight's sunset than there was when I first arrived seven weeks ago.

Seven weeks! I can't believe time has gone so fast! And I'm certainly not the same person I was, bumbling into a role that, if I'm being completely honest, would have seemed an insurmountable challenge. And yet here I am.

I feel like I'm at peace with things. I know there's more to be discovered, more territory I've yet to visit, more ailments that will need treatment, but I'm at peace with where I am, and even who I am.

Watching the last of the twilight dim, I felt like I'd been part of a daily ceremony, the changing of the guard from day to night. Oddly satisfying, in its way, almost as if the desire to do morphs into the desire to rest. And that, after any day at the cottage, is a feeling I willingly embrace!

I'd banked the fire, letting it sleep. It too would be called upon with the new day. Pop's gentle glow as it moved about the cottage, floating where it will or settled on the spirit house, was comforting. MouseEye's usual spot was empty, but that in itself wasn't unusual - he would just as often disappear as reappear... ok - that's obvious, I guess! What I'm trying to say is that MouseEye isn't tied to my side. Wherever he is, I know he's safe. And I hope he's not intrusive or indiscreet!

Which brings my thoughts to Roger. Bathing. That was... I just don't need to see that much of anyone ever again! Chuckling to myself (and probably I'll be chuckling about it for a very long time), I sat in front of the spirit house, relaxed and breathed, and let the day's memories and labours release.

I did wonder, as I sat, if when I sleep I somehow connect with the Here Yet Not Here. Is it somewhere you can go? Much like up beyond the clouds in Madcap's balloon, could a voyager find themselves Here Yet Not Here? What would that be like? How would it work?

Could I package myself up, set myself on the mantlepiece, and end up... at Pip's house? Could I go elsewhere? What would that be like!?!

When I start to let my mind wander at night (like I "let" it - it just flies off in a direction and I feel like I'm running after it - again like Madcap's balloon), I know my sleep will be more active, less restful. I'll have cobwebs aplenty come morning but maybe overnight I'll garner insights, or inspirations, or epiphanies. But none of that will come until I let me mind drift off with head on pillow.

I close my eyes and doze off. Sleep envelopes. 

And a knock awakens. "Mithtrith?"

Igor? Pop's glow increased, allowing me to find my clothes and throw them on.

Opening the door, I saw Igor's worried face, brows knitted, hands (all three) clenching and squeezing, always in motion. "Please, come in. Take a seat and tell me what brings you here."

He did as I invited. And then told me about Richard, Count von Rannoc, vampire, necromancer. "He doethn't theem himthelf. And now he'th thaying he wantth to watch the thunrithe."

"It... I mean... he won't die, will he?", I asked.

"No. But it thertainly won't be good for him."

"Do you want me to tend to him?"

"I'm embarrathed to athk, but yeth. Pleathe. Thith ith beyond me."

I spent some more time asking about his condition, when it'd started, noticeable symptoms. And Igor, being not just an assistant but one versed in science and observation, was a wealth of information.

As I consulted the old witch's book, MouseEye sat down on the open page. I asked with a glance if he'd heard everything. With a small nod he indicated he had. With a small shrug I said I wasn't sure what it was but tentatively pointed at an ailment description. With a small shrug back he said my guess was as good as his so let's run with that diagnosis for now. 

Or maybe he thought we were talking about something completely unrelated to the visit. 

Anyway, I thought about a plan of action for the case. I had Princess Toad mucous already (and what is it with so many reagents being slimy and gross!?!). Mixed with Coldrust (and luckily I knew where to get some in Hero's Hollow), it'd make a cure for the ailment known as Loss of Experience. I had no idea how someone so old and knowledgeable as the Count could catch something like this, but it made sense in all other respects.

I grabbed the slime... sorry... the mucous reagent... and a few other things and made ready to go to the dungeon. I wasn't sure if I was more or less comforted that Igor would be joining me but I figured at the very least he'd make for interesting conversation on the way.

Such was not the case. Igor, despite appearances, could walk faster than was comfortable for me. I half-trotted to keep up, not leaving me with much breath for talking. I did manage to ask if the Count knew we were coming.

"No. But the Marthter will apprethiate your expertithe when we arrive."

From what I'd gathered about the necromancer's temperament when confronted with the unexpected, this wasn't a great idea. I tried to trust Igor's judgement. I'd almost succeeded by the time we entered the Hollow.

I opted to detour us to the armoury, the site of my last Coldrust harvest, to gather some before making our way to the Count's rooms. The rusting magical weapons and armour may be of no use to warriors but it's a treasure trove of Coldrust for me!

Igor then led us to his "Marthter'th chamberth". It was a quick walk - again mostly because Igor was moving at a speed that would be a near-certain ankle twister for anyone else. Maybe he found a way to distill some of the faires' rat spit so that he could go faster?

I felt my mind begin to wander. And... I stopped it. This was no place to not pay attention to where you're stepping!

Soon enough, we arrived. Igor bade me stay back a couple of paces - to announce me, I guess. I heard:

"Marthter? Mithtrith Thweetwater ith here to thee you."

"Why? For what purpose? And have you seen my book on theories of the beyond?"

"Yeth, Marthter. It'th on your dethk, Marthter. And no, I don't know why the witch ith here, Marthter."

"Hmm? Ah, yes. The book is here. Very good. And now if only I had my codex handy..."

"It'th altho on your dethk, Marthter. Next to the book."

"Ah. Yes. So it is. Good. Umm... I feel like I'm missing something..."

"Yeth, Marthter. Mithtrith Thweetwater ith here to thee you."

"Is she? I'm... very busy... have her... uh..."

As they were talking, Igor reached for my arm, then gently guided me forward. Then another arm reached behind me and gave me a hefty shove forward on my back. I looked up into the eyes of a startled necromantic vampire.

I did mention, didn't I, that his behaviour when startled isn't exactly... carefully considered? Today, however, was different.

"Oh! Mistress Sweetwater, right? How unexpected."

I turned to look for Igor. He was gone.

"I... ah... yes. I thought I'd check in on you. I..."

"Check in on me? Hmmm... Why? Has Igor been gossiping again?"

"Ah... no! No. But he did say you were contemplating watching the sunrise and I thought it'd be lovely to do together."

"Did he now? And... was I really planning to do that? Well... sorry you came all this way, but I'm far too busy to be galavanting off. I've... have you seen my book on theories of the beyond?"

As I was about to point it out, I spotted MouseEye standing on it (but out of sight of the Count, of course) making "danger" motions: thumb drawn across the neck, glassy eyes with tongue lolling, arms crossed in front of his chest making a big X. I walked up to the table, took the book (somehow MouseEye disappeared. Maybe as I blinked?), pretended to read it, then said, "I think you meant to get it from the library but you grabbed the wrong one. Let me get the right one for you."

As I stepped out of the room, I heard Richard start talking to himself about finding another something or other. Igor was waiting.

"Do you thee what I mean? He'th not right in the head."

"Can I use your lab? I'm sure it's Loss of Experience, but I don't know how he would've contracted it. Unless... where did this book come from?"

"That? Oh... I'm not thure. Which ith odd. An adventurer did vithit a couple of dayth ago. I wath buthy in the lab, and I don't pry into the Marthter'th buthineth, but I do catalogue all the bookth. Thith one I've never theen. I wonder if the Marthter bought it. It theemth odd that he would, but then again..."

"I wonder if it's a trapped book. Like maybe you start to read it and instead of giving you information, it takes it. Does that sound plausible?"

"That'th... you know, people think of necromantherth ath evil becauthe they work with the dead and death. But thith... to turn a book from a giver to a taker... that'th real evil."

Igor took the book. "I'll examine it while you brew."

I just looked at him. "You can be so certain, and safe, while doing it so fast?"

He looked back at me. "You can brew a pothun tho fatht and be thertain you and he will be thafe?"

"Point taken."

He laughed. "Anyway, forewarned ith forearmed."

A few minutes later we reconvened. We both said, "Is it...?", then stopped. I let Igor go first.

"Trapped, as you thuthpected. The book itthelf ith inert. You had to thtart reading the text for the trap to thpring." He then looked at me more sharply. "How did you know?"

I was about to answer when I heard a mouse-y voice behind me. "I told her."

Igor shot me an appraising look. "That familiar ith a keeper if ever there wath one. Now - the pothun?"

I held up the cup holding it.

"Will thith... rethtore him?"

I didn't know. So that's what I answered.

"Here'th to hoping." He took the cup and entered the Count's study. "Reading ith thirthty work. Here'th a refrethment."

The Count, for his part, was standing in front of a tapestry. But he wasn't actively looking - the body was too slumped, the head not quite square. It was like no one was home. He clearly wasn't reading. He clearly wasn't doing much of anything. But he did take the drink without a word and downed it. And then we waited.

The changes were subtle but added up to awareness being reawakened. Then, slowly, he looked at us. Sometimes vampires are depicted with red flames in their eyes. Other times they're shown with wolfish grins and protruding canines. I'd never seen the Count like that. Until this moment.

"What?" The demand was directed at Igor.

"The new book, Marthter."

"Where?"

"Ditharmed. In the Library."

The vampire then turned to me.

"You?"

I was speechless. Frozen. The intensity of that gaze... it grabbed everything I was and blasted it aside. I just stood there, mute.

"Her. Yeth, Marthter."

Richard, Count von Rannoc, slowly approached me, never breaking eye contact. All I could see was his eyes, and beyond them, the Void. He reached down, took my hand, and kissed it. "You, witch, are worthy of the name. I'm indebted to you."

My brain slowly dragged its way back. "I... ah... just brewed a potion."

He continued to stare through me. "No. You returned me. Aside from your usual rate for the mundane task of brewing a potion, I am in your debt. The silver is a pittance. And you shall not refuse."

The more laggard pieces of my mind started to recover. "No."

The Count's eyes blazed again. Before he could speak, I continued. "I will accept that I've done you a greater service than simply treat a condition. And I accept that you feel indebted to me. But it's something I never intend to call. For me, there is no debt."

The stare, that terrible stare, continued. But now I was back, aware, fully myself. And I was able to absorb the stare and withstand it, hold it, and even calmly return it. And he laughed. "Never let it be said that witches are simply crazy women living in little cottages who mutter over steaming cauldrons." Then he held up a hand. "I, for one, have never said such a thing. Others? Yes. But not me."

Of a sudden, he looked drained. "Would you care to sit with me a moment? Apparently I need time to recover. Igor? Some tea please."

"Yeth, Marthter. With pleathure."

The Count and I sat. He more reclined. "Your predecessor. She warned me once about this, or something similar. 'They only have to get lucky once. You must remain perpetually vigilant.' Oh, the tongue lashing she'd've given me, were she here."

He looked deep in thought, formulating what to say next. "She was something, you know. A force of nature. She, a witch, working with all things from birth to death. And me, a necromancer, working with death as birth." He paused. Then, "They say opposites attract. But there was no way it would ever work. And then she went to the Imperial City."

That stopped me. I didn't think he knew about that, that Igor had intercepted her letter to him. He saw my facial expression and laughed. "Igor's protective. But that doesn't mean I'm ignorant."

"Your tea, Marthter. Mithtreth."

"Thank you, Igor.", said the Count.

"Should I track down the culprit, Marthter?"

"No. No doubt the poor fool was duped or geased. The real perpetrator will have clean hands. So we'll have to be more circumspect in our search."

"Yeth, Marthter."

Igor left and the Count and I talked for a while longer. At some point, I yawned. The Count reacted. "Dear me! I just realized what time it is! You must be exhausted! Shall I have Igor prepare a guest room for you?"

It was tempting, but really all I wanted was the peace of my own cottage and the safety of the land surrounding me. So I declined. And soon after, headed out.

On the way out, two things happened.

One was that I passed by the Silverleaf outcropping and gathered some. And then, remembering this unlucky fellow who'd bled to death trying to harvest it. I gathered some Old Blood from near him. Show me a witch who doesn't harvest reagents when they have the chance and I'll show you, not a witch, but a crazy woman living in a cottage muttering over a steaming cauldron. Ha! I still can't believe he said that!

The other thing that happened is that while I was walking passed the jail cells and paying them no mind, I heard a poorly stifled sneeze. It... no... it couldn't be...

I stopped and looked. And then I saw. A figure huddled in a cell, trying to hide. "Show yourself.", I said. I was calm. I was cool. I was collected. And I had a very interested vampire relatively close at hand if things went really badly.

"Um... hello?", it said. He, I amended. He said.

"Let me guess. You gave a necromancer a book, probably not willingly, and you are now stuck here, scared, and not knowing the way out."

"I did what?" The panic in his voice spoke volumes. He didn't know what he'd done. "Please, miss, I woke up here. I don't know where here is, but it isn't where I want to be!"

"I won't hurt you. You're safe. Come on out and I'll show you how to get out." It took more convincing than that, but he did eventually join me. I knew the way pretty well by this point, so it was a quick and easy journey to the exit. The feel of the nighttime air felt so much better than the dungeon's stagnancy. 

"Oh thank the heavens! I'm out! Here, miss, this is yours!", he shouted as he dropped a pouch at my feet, and ran off. I picked it up, felt the weight, and heard the clink of coins. I'd count it later. My main thought in that moment was the hope that he'd find his home ok.

As for me, I went home. But instead of going to bed, I sat outside and waited. It didn't feel like a long time but it gave me time to decompress, to process, to wonder, and to eventually watch the sunrise.

Also Spring, Week 6 - Helping vs Rescuing

To hear the narration and learn how I put this episode together, watch the video!

*****

 Early morning. The time when the transition from night to day hasn't started just yet. There's a stillness as night gets ready to recede, day is busy making its coffee, stretching, getting ready, but it hasn't left the house yet so as to be known to the sleeping world. It's the hushed breath before activity begins.

At least in most houses. Not this one. Not this morning at least. In this one... this witch wishes she were allowed to sleep longer, to enjoy the warmth of bed covers until dawn. I mean... dawn!... it's not too much to ask for, is it?

Apparently the answer is "Yes. Yes it is."

I know why I'm up. I'm not happy with myself this morning and I know I should do something about it. I know this because that is the theme of so many thoughts pounding around in my skull. At least if I get up and start to do something, I can get my mind off of my guilt. Perhaps even convince it to go away. Which I know full well it won't, but a witch can at least try! And besides it's too early to do anything about it anyway! So... I'll do something else and maybe, just maybe, I'll work it all out. It didn't help that a presumed sleeping MouseEye just said, "Mmm hmm" right after my last thought on the subject. 

As I got up and stretched, I saw the gentle glow from behind the note on the mantlepiece. That, I think, is worthy of exploration. It'll take my mind off of other things. And besides, if it's from Pip I don't want to leave her waiting on a reply. 

My usual morning routine can wait. I really want to see what the note says and see what's glowing.

Note to self - when trying to read a note, get the fire going first. It's amazing how much light there isn't in the early morning. 

Next note to self - in the dark, writing may not be visible, but it gives a much better perspective on anything that happens to be gently glowing.

I set the note aside and saw what lay behind it. It's... a small orb, tiny really, sitting on the mantlepiece. But not just sitting. More like gently pulsating. Along with the colour changing intensity, the colour itself seemed to shift - whites, blues, turquoises, and more. And the sphere itself gently... bounced? The harder I looked at it, the more movement I saw. It was mesmerizing. 

It was around that point that my lack of even visiting the privy started to catch up with me. I pulled myself away and got my daily routine done.

Feeling much more comfortable and with the fire stoked, I was able to read the note. It was indeed from Pip! Yay! And it identified my new little glowing friend as a Pop O' Lock. That it emits bursts of coloured magic, needs feeding twice daily, and won't tolerate sun nor bugs.

Ummm... feed twice daily? And I've had it for how long? It looks alive, at least. And with all the movement I assume it's happy? And the note says something about trying to save this Pop O' Lock? Save it from what? Simply dying? Or something more predatory? Or sinister?

I'm going to have to write back and get some clearer instructions on the little thing. In the meantime, what do I do with it? I hoped MouseEye could shed a light on the situation.

"MouseEye?"

A little suspiciously, the sound of snoring began to come from his spot in the spirit house.

"MouseEye", I said, a little louder. 

"Must I?", came the response, and then the suspicious snoring continued. 

"Is that where we are now? Preemptive 'Must I?'-ing?"

"Mmm hmm"

Well, for now anyway, everything seems ok.

What happens if I touch it?

It's warm. Not hot. Pleasant. There's a vibration. Subtle. The colour changed slightly - perhaps a bit pastelly. And when I went to lift my finger off, it stuck to it. Interesting! 

I brought it closer to my face. "Hello there. I'm Sweet. I hope you're happy here in my cottage." I didn't expect what happened next - it floated off my finger and landed on the spirit house. Ok - I guess it can take care of itself better than I'd originally assumed. 

And that's where I was as the sun rose - happy, warm, enjoying a steaming tea, secure in my ability to help people... which brought back an uncomfortable thought. Why had I felt the need to add sweet to the potion I gave to Roger Rogerson? Twelve silver worth of sweet. The sweet alone was more than Roger would've made from his guarding of the doctor.

How could someone make a living if they had to pay out so much in a single treatment? Especially if a certain witch were to over-make a potion?

*Sigh* The same thoughts that had greeted me in the dark were now badgering me in the light. There was no helping it - I had to make things right. And that meant a trip to High Rannoc.

I did my best to rehearse what I'd say to Roger and what he might say in response. How angry he might be because of how much I charged him. How disappointed he could be in me for not being more thoughtful in my care, not being more helpful in my customer service, not being as useful a resource to the community as I could be. I must admit the discussions in my imagination turned into arguments, recriminations, accusations, rejections.

I felt miserable. I wanted to turn around, go back to the cottage, and put out a Do Not Disturb sign just so's I could hide and never see anyone again. But my legs got me to the High Rannoc gate. Open, as always. "Why are there walls if the gate is always open?", I wondered. But that attempt at distraction was swept aside with visions of poor Roger eating a crust of bread and being thankful to the person who'd mindlessly cast it aside.

Through the gates I went.

The Copper Fox Tavern seemed the best place to start looking for Roger. Fussy was up and serving a family breakfast. I caught his attention as I walked in. "Mistress Sweetwater. What can I get you?"

I swallowed, gathered my courage, and asked for Roger's address.

"He's in the back. He's just..."

"Thank you." I strode past him.

"But... Mistress?... he's..."

I ignored whatever he was trying to say. I was finally ready to do this and if I stopped now, I might never be able to summon up the courage again.

I went through the inn and out the back, following the sound of singing. Roger's singing. Meanwhile I faintly heard scrambling behind me.

I stepped out. Roger had a small bowl raised over his head. A very wet and entirely unclothed Roger dropped the small bowl onto his head. Which is when Fussy caught up. "Begging your pardon, but he's bathing, Miss." The tableaux froze.

Roger then said, "Have you eaten, Miss? Fussy, would you mind laying a table for two?"

I felt Fussy's arm wrap around my shoulders, steering me back to the Common Room. "He'll just be a minute, I'm sure. What can I get you?"

It was difficult to think, what with the new flood of mortification I was feeling. I just looked at him.

"How about I get you the House Special. Everyone likes it."

"Ok. Thank you.", was all I could manage.

A few minutes later, a still wet but very much clothed Roger joined me. He was smiling. 

We both tried talking at the same time, stopped, tried again at the same time, stopped. Our food arrived, which served as a pleasant distraction. I tried talking again, but Roger put his hand up to stop me. "I just want to say that, when you came storming out and saw me washing - your face! Priceless! I would've burst out laughing, but it's clear there's something on your mind. So - let me now shut up and let you talk."

He sat back and gave me the floor.

I sat up, bent forward, and began. "Roger - I want you to know that I've been thinking about the potion I made you, and its cost. I feel like I didn't take into consideration your... ahhh... living standards... and I..."

He held up a hand again. "I've faced fearsome beasts in my time, so just say what you need to say."

I stopped. "Fearsome beasts?"

"You doubt me?"

"A little. Yes."

His smile grew, carrying levels of humour and abashedness. "Ok. So maybe not as fearsome as I might try to imply. But yes - I've been to places most folks haven't. So a few words don't scare me." He leaned back again. Once again I had the floor.

"Look - you make ten silver on a guarding job. I charged you forty-two for a potion. How can you afford to live if I do that? I want to at least refund you the silver I charged for all the sweet I added." And I started digging in my pocket.

Roger stopped me. And smiled. "I appreciate that you care about this. I really do. You cared for me when I came to you, made a potion that, let's face it, I wanted to keep drinking long after it was all gone, and allowed me to stay at your cottage. Fussy tells me all the time that I should charge what I think is fair to my customers. Most times there's no trouble at all. This last time there was. So thank you for the offer, but I can't accept anything back that I paid to you."

This I couldn't accept. So I tried a different argument. "Why didn't the doctor help you? Why didn't he...?"

The hand had gone up again. "But he did. It's just that I opted to not take his pills. And I'm glad I didn't. Your potion worked a treat and I'm ready to guide and guard again."

"But... how...?"

"Look - sometimes what's supposed to be a three-hour tour becomes something more serious. I can honestly say, and I am being honest here, there have been times that it's only been my courage that's kept my clients from being lost, or worse. And yes, in the great ocean of adventure, I can feel like a little minnow, but I never feel alone. I suppose shipwrecked would work better for this analogy. So whether I'm guiding a millionaire and his wife or a professor or whomever, I know it'll all be ok. And that you have proven yourself to be able to help me so handedly, that helps reinforce that idea. So! Hand out of your pocket, please, and let's enjoy Fussy's House Special." And then he whispered, "Make sure to complement him on the food. He's fussy about how people perceive it." He smiled again, a little conspiratorial one. I returned it.

The father of the family that had finished breakfast approached the table. "Roger, we're on for tomorrow, yes?"

Roger nodded. "Hank, before you go, have you met the new witch, Mistress Sweetwater? Worked a wonder on me the other day."

We all exchanged pleasantries and then the father left. I looked over at Roger, who just shrugged. "Don't mention it. It's what I do."

I felt more at ease in this minute than I'd felt since treating Roger. "I have to admit, Roger, I didn't see you as being... I don't know... I mean, you're energetic and enthusiastic, clearly able to take care of yourself from physical threats, but I didn't think of you as... business-savvy." 

"So you thought I wasn't, what? Smart enough? To take care of myself?"

"Ummm... I... when you put it that way..."

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Ok. Fair thought. I wasn't the best student, but I'm doing well enough. Between Fussy helping me out and my adventuring, it's all good. So - you all good?" He reached across the table for my hands. I let him take them. He looked in my eyes. "All good?"

I felt so much better. I was lost in my relief. I heard myself say "Yes". 

"Good." He released my hands, took a minute, then made to get up. "I've got to get busy, so I hope you'll excuse me. But do make sure to give the food two thumbs up." And with that, he left.

Although I was tempted to linger, I decided to start making my way back home. The thoughts I'd had of checking in on my former patients to make sure they were doing well evaporated. The thought of going to the Herbology School to... I don't know what... also disappeared. 

I don't need to check in on Francie. Or the doctor. Or Madame Hightower. I could care from my cottage, but I don't need anyone to prove to me that they're ok. I don't need to try to control the lives of anyone (except, of course, myself). I don't need to rescue anyone.

What a relief! What a weight off my shoulders! I felt good! Who knew that witching could be such a complicated affair?

As I walked back to the cottage, I wondered if the old witch had faced these same problems. Probably, I found myself answering myself. I wondered how she'd faired; how she'd managed all the expectations; the requests; the demands, the reasonable and the unreasonable... all the different ways life could try, could pull, push, cajole... no wonder a witch's cottage sits a comfortable distance outside of town and those walls, those pitiful walls trying to keep everything out. Or maybe just the harmful, the dangerous, the unwanted out. Ugh. Give me free access to wild lands any day.

As I approached the cottage grounds, a dark shape flew low over my head, followed by an unspeakable greasy reek. I looked up as a harpy landed on a low hanging branch. 

How to describe a harpy? To simply say they are a combination of a woman (head, chest) and a vulture (all the rest) is like saying a giant explosion is a combination of a bit of fire and enthusiasm. Harpys are nasty. They stink, have mouths that would make sailors cringe... let's face it - if there's a single redeeming quality, I'm not aware of it. How they'd been appointed as the mail delivery service I'll never know.

"Hello, princess!" it shrieked. Did I mention they don't talk, exactly? They only shriek. "You been expecting a package? Got your hopes up to actually receive whatever this is?" It held up a bit of card with a small bag attached.

The thing to remember when dealing with a mail delivery (I think I'd experienced only one or two at my childhood home) is to not give the harpy any satisfaction in wanting the package. They usually get bored and drop it, sometimes in a convenient place, then leave. So I didn't give the harpy any attention, simply said, "no", then walked away.

The harpy shrieked in frustration, then flew ahead of me again. "Don't you want this wood-care oil? Good for brooms and wands?"

I forgot to mention that they'll typically read your mail.

"No, thank you." They also don't like manners.

It shrieked again. "Fie! On your head, then!" She dropped it then took off. She did try to poop on me as she flew away but I was able to step out of the way. One last shriek of frustration as it flew off and that was that.

As I picked up the bit of mail, I was grateful the harpy had been in a relatively good mood. One last thought dashed through my head - why would a type of creature - one that only has human female parts - agree to deliver "mail"? You'd think something with only human male parts, like a satyr, would be more appropriate. Then again, satyrs aren't big on schedules and responsibility - they just want to party all day every day.

The card was addressed to "The Witch of High Rannoc, or Current Resident". On the back was a sales pitch by a newly established company looking to sell a better brand of wood soap - to help keep a witch's wooden tools clean and weather-protected. The bag held a small sample, formed into an easy-to-transport bar.

Well - when I have a broom or a wand, this might become useful. For right now, however, it's simply something to store away.

I opened the door to my cottage. The usual comfortable dark had been replaced with the glow coming from Pop O' Lock floating happily in the middle of the cottage. 

That... hmmm... it's nice. I'm so used to only having light when things are open or the fire's going or, for special times, a candle's light. This is... it's like a bit of fantastical living. What a luxury!

However, it wasn't up to me if this lovely glowing orb stays or goes. I had to ask the house. I sat and thought, breathed and asked. And got back acceptance. Even happiness that I was going to be pleased.

I opened my eyes and found Pop O' Lock floating near my hand, which was folded in my lap. I opened it and allowed Pop to land on my palm. There was that sensation of warmth, of comfort. I could feel it gently melding with me, accepting my energy and offering me its own.

I thought back to Pip's note and how she'd sent it here to save it. Maybe in Pip's land, something would eat this? Whatever the situation there, I was going to take care of this one here. But I did need to send Pip a note. I gently let Pop (it felt ok to call her that. And she was definitely a she, but why I decided that I don't know) float off and I got my writing things together and started to compose. I'd figured at some point that if I was going to have a penpal in the Here Yet Not Here, I'd better put together a small kit for writing).

The letter I wrote is all about Pop. How she seems to be getting along and is safe and happy here. And I felt the desire to write a bit of a poem about her as well:

What shall I say of who's come my way

the lovely one now known as Pop?

Her gentle glow, a moon you know

is lighting up the dark a lot

She floats so free and alights on me

never dims and never stops

She's found a home where she can roam

and the spirit house is also her cot.

And since Pip has sent me some things, I thought I'd send her the wood soap. If I can simply order it and have it delivered... nope... check that... ask Bob to have it brought in, then maybe where she is they don't have it. At least not yet.

So maybe I'm doing things differently than the old witch. Maybe she didn't have a Pip, or a Pop, or a Fen. And definitely not a MouseEye! But I have love and acceptance. What more does anyone need?

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!