Also Spring, Week 10 - Starts With a Whirlwind, Ends With a Nut

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

*****

 A whirlwind. It's been an absolute whirlwind. And a certain someone, who can safely be called my favourite bard in the world, sits at its centre. Wherever she is, song seemingly bursts forth! We can be walking in the woods with no one around for kilometres and then, seemingly out of the air, there's music! Aside from the various faerie folk who can appear, the birds themselves change from simple calls to songs! Melodies, harmonies, even percussion! (Although, to be fair, the percussion is more often squirrels banging nuts together, deer scraping antlers against trees, or frogs croaking, or... this girl is like music magic incarnate! And while I continue to gawk and gape, she just joins in, like it's the most normal thing in the world. I guess it makes sense that, for her it is, but it still blows me away. She just watches my jaw drop and laughs.

Such joyousness. Pure effervescence. And it's so infectious! Admittedly, I like my quiet, my calm, my solitude, but I can't help but be caught up in her energy, her fun, her joy.

She's been playing at The Copper Fox regularly, consistently drawing crowds. And those crowds are growing! Which makes sense; the Spring Festival is approaching. Vendors and exhibitors are slowly but surely arriving, setting up tents, wagons, and even little mobile homesteads outside High Rannoc's decaying gates. A lot of what is being vended is food - all sorts of things being served. Some roasted over flavourful wood, others marinated in different types of sauces and rubs. Most of them are mouth-wateringly delicious. Of course there's always that one stall that sells something that, enjoyed by some, is heart-stoppingly, disgustingly,... yuck! (Which, for whatever reason, is mobbed by teenage boys daring each other to eat more of whatever it is that they're serving).

Anyway! I've been spending time at the cottage keeping it up but also spending a lot of time in town. Aside from being a rapt listener as Bess plays, I also help a lot at the tavern. And during that time, I've been able to catch up with Bob, Francie, Robert, and Madame Hightower, along with starting to mend bridges with Madam Wintergleam (my herbology teacher. For all of an hour or two, a couple of months ago), and initiate relationships with others like Mrs. Ruffage (the old witch's cousin). And maybe all this conversation and healing of relationships would've happened naturally, but I can't help but think that Bess, somehow, was helping things along.

The only people I consciously avoided was the mayor and his wife. Aside from the mayor doing nothing to help stem the rumours that his actions had started, his wife, the more I saw and heard, was even more toxic that him. For instance, on reflection, it seemed suspicious that she disappeared right after I cured Bess and didn't start appearing in public again until after her cold, or whatever caused her to dab at her nose repeatedly, was gone. Just one day, days after staying in her house out of public view, she stepped into the tavern, frowned when she spotted Bess, and made some sort of disapproving noise when she started playing her mandolin. But there was no dabbing at her nose or any other sign of sickness. But her voice sounded like it'd been abused, like she'd coughed a lot. It seemed likely Bess had been cursed by this hateful woman.

Note to self - talk to the spirit of the cottage about my suspicions. And discuss setting up protections! I don't want to be attacked by anyone, but in particular not by someone who's malicious, perhaps even malevolent. 

But enough about that situation! Let's talk more about Bess. Like how last night, during a break in her playing, she came up to me, put her arm around my waist, snuggled up close with her head on my shoulder, and just... stayed there. It was close, comfortable, even a little bit exciting. I think my body language just melted into that casual contact; my insides were grinning like an idiot. And then later, after everything was done for the night, she stopped me before I headed home and said we should do something tomorrow. Which was, I think, really today (because it was so late). Anyway, my heart leaped for joy. It's amazing that I slept at all!

Soon enough, either tomorrow came or today continued or... the sun rose. That, I'm sure of! And Bess arrived, riding on Marvin. I was so happy to see her and, considering how that poor donkey must've been put on a tether or in a stall, I was happy he'd be able to wander and roam and stretch his legs. 

"I hope you don't mind that I...", she started.

"No! I'm glad he's here! He's..."

"... he won't be any trouble at all..."

"...very welcome and I'm sure won't be a bother."

"...so, thank you!", Bess exclaimed.

Through all this, Marvin just stood there, watching. Almost like he was waiting. For what, I didn't know.

And then I felt a weight on my head. "Good morning. I hear you have a lovely day not-yet-planned." MouseEye. The mysterious, the mischievous, the mercurial. The now-standing-on-my-head-and-bowing-low-to-Bess.

"I wondered who first greeted me when I first arrived!" Then she stopped and looked at me in confusion. "Is it ok for me to address your familiar directly?"

Before I could answer, MouseEye said, "Of course! And please address all concerns and complaints to me, directly, out of anyone's earshot. Compliments should be given to my mistress - the more detailed the better."

Bess laughed. And then stopped when MouseEye asked, "May I address Marvin directly or should I talk to him through you?"

Like I said, Bess stopped laughing. But Marvin started. A donkey's laugh is... quite the sound. It's like a hee haw on repeat, but with hooves stomping on the ground besides. "I told you they knew." Marvin's voice is deep, sonorous, almost mournful. But as easy to understand as anyone else.

Bess looked at me. "You knew?" It was almost accusatory. 

I was lost for words. Luckily, MouseEye was on a roll. "No. She had no idea. But I... I watch. And listen. So when a supposedly mute farm animal is muttering that he's one of the most intelligent creatures ever in the history of the world, eating hay he wouldn't wish on the least of rodents, let alone on noble beasts like himself, I pay attention."

We were all standing there. Quiet. Confused. 

"I... ummm... no offence meant.", said Marvin.

"None taken. Now, if everyone will allow me, I'll show Marvin where I think some of the tastier grasses and other greens are growing on the land. And some places that could use some extra fertilizer." I felt MouseEye leap off my head, then saw him reappear on Marvin. "Head that way, Runcio."

"I'm not dappled, nor owned by a squire, Mortimer."

"That's funny! You know, there are people in town who think my name is that because..."

"Yeah. I know. You aren't the only one who watches. And listens."

As they rode off, they both nodded to us and MouseEye reached for his non-existent forelock. And their voices faded as they continued to banter, and, I believe, tried to one-up the other.

Bess and I looked at each other.

"Did you understand any of that?", I asked.

"Only the Mortimer bit. I think.", she replied.

"Well, it's not much of a story, but I can tell it over breakfast."

We agreed that I should cook. And while Bess would normally entertain me, she sat back and heard the tale of how MouseEye came to be known as Mortimer in town.

"So... I'm confused. What was the motivation for making up such an elaborate name when Francie asked?"

To be honest, I don't remember why I did it. It made sense at the time. I think. Or not! Which is why the first sounds I made trying to answer Bess' question consisted of "ums", "ahs", false starts, and a fair amount of chuckling. I finally landed on, "I don't know!"

She laughed. "Fair enough. It made sense in the moment. Got it!"

We ate, cleaned up, checked to make sure MouseEye and Marvin were doing ok (they were), then moved on to discussing the adventure du jour. 

"How would you feel about visiting The Cloud Isles?", I asked.

"Sounds fun! Are they isles that are seemingly made of clouds but are otherwise properly on the ground? Or are they more like seemingly ground but are otherwise floating in the air?"

"If I say the second option is much closer to the truth, would that be ok?"

"Ummm... sure. Why not? Let's go!"

Which is how we ended up in front of the cottage, Vapour Trail ready to board, and the two of us getting ready.

"If it's ok with you, I'd like to do something a little different today. You game?" Bess gave me an uncertain smile. "Sure. In for a penny, in for a pound."

I had her stand on the bristles, facing front, with me standing behind with my arms around her waist, keeping us close. And then we lifted off, more like hovered, just a few metres above the ground. I felt her relax as she got used to the sensation of standing and flying. And then I had the broom start on our way. The only difference between my usual flying and now was the gentle way we gained altitude. It took a little longer to get up to the Isles but it was fun and relaxed. Bess enjoyed seeing the lands around the cottage and High Rannoc. And then seeing the undersides of the floating islands closing in closer and closer.

I shared the story about my balloon trip with Madcap. And it was as wonderful to share this time, with Bess seeing the Isles for the first time. It allowed me to relive my first time and also to understand what Madcap must experience every time he beings someone new to this magical place. And in that spirit, I whispered in her ear, "Your wish is my command."

She looked over her shoulder. "My wish is to land somewhere. Like... that island - that big one over there."

Minutes later, we were on the indicated island. She breathed a sigh of relief, then kissed the ground.

"Was it that bad?", I asked, concerned I'd gone too far with my desire to share (and show off).

She laughed. "I got used to it after a bit. But it's nice to be able to walk around! And sit!"

We settled in and looked around. The islands, made of cloud nestled in cloud... it was amazing. We took it all in, walked around, explored the forest growing on this bit of ground... what an adventure!

"Sweet? Do these islands ever crash into each other?"

"I don't know. Why?"

"That island over there is getting awfully close."

I looked where she was looking at the approaching island. I had no idea if they collide but better to be safe than sorry. I ran to where Bess was standing, called for Vapour Trail, then had her grip the broom. "Trust me on this. Don't let go of the handle. We're going to take three strides towards the approaching island. Ready? One! Two! Three!" On three, I had the broom gently life us above the land.

It was effective, but awkward, the two of us gripping the handle of a flying broom as two land masses bumped into each other. And it was interesting, watching as the smaller one (the one we jumped towards) crumpled a bit, becoming smaller, while the pieces of debris floated off. The bigger island (what we had been standing on) had a small ripple, like an earthquake, run over it entirely.

I wondered - if this was how the various islands formed - collisions and joinings and calvings and whatnot. I started wondering if anyone knew the history, the science, the...

"Um... Sweet?"

Bess' voice, normally filled with confidence, sounded a bit panicked. 

"Hi there. I'm not sure what the plan is, but would you mind doing it soon?"

I realized that I'd sent us towards where the smaller island had come from, but hadn't adjusted to where it was now. We were currently holding onto Vapour Trail as we sailed through empty air.

"Sorry! Here... let's do... this...", I said as I aimed the broom towards the smaller island. A few seconds later, we were on firm, or at least floating, ground again.

As we touched down, Bess went immediately onto her knees and kissed the ground. Then, looking at me, amidst a bit of laughing (which held an uncomfortable amount of hysteria), "Ground, I've never fully appreciated the importance of your job until this moment!" And then she half-folded, half-collapsed, ending up on her back, arms outstretched, like she was maximizing contact with the ground. "You, Sweet... do you show all of your guests this good of a time?"

I stood there, dying inside. All I'd wanted to do was to show Bess my world, and here I was scaring her, panicking her, disappointing her. I...

Which is when I more felt than anything else Bess gently hug me. "You are a daredevil. But an amazing daredevil. You kept your head, kept us safe... I mean, yes, scared the bejeebers out of me... but you!" Her laughter, thankfully, had lost its edge. "How about we agree that we have no more adventures today. Is that ok?"

I was just about to agree when another adventure reared its head. Or "baaa'ed" plaintively is more accurate. Stepping out from behind some rocks, a sheep slowly, shyly, approached. "Baaa!"

Bess and I both began asking each other, ourselves, and I think the air, how a sheep had gotten onto this island. I, without really paying attention to what I was doing (being more focused on asking the same questions over and over again and being surprised that answers weren't magically coming forth), slowly approached the wayward farm animal. And realized there was no way for me to know where this sheep belonged. It did look similar to one I'd found on Moonbreaker Mountain a few weeks ago, but I'd had MouseEye there to translate. Here and now, I had just me.

Half-jokingly, I asked Bess, "You don't happen to speak sheep, do you?"

She thought I was fully joking. "No, unfortunately. When I was choosing courses at the Bard Academy, I opted to lean Prehistory."

"There's a Bard Academy?"

"Proud graduate."

"And they teach Prehistory?"

"Um... no."

"Oh."

I began to wonder - could I get anywhere with sheep in the same way MouseEye could? And so I started to focus - on MouseEye and his ability to communicate, on the sheep and its language, on Bess and her ability to transcend language with song, and on the spirit house and its ability to harmonize with everything. I imagined being at the cottage with the sheep in front of me. I felt meaning and compassion rise up from deep inside me, the sounds coming up my throat and out my mouth, even to the point of feeling like I was a sheep. The sounds I made were, to my human ears, absolute nonsense, but when the sheep answered back, I knew where we had to go. "She belongs to the Bleaters."

"What's that? A traveling troupe of sheep?"

"No. It's a family that live on a farm near Moonbreaker Mountain."

"And we're... what? We're going to rescue this sheep? How? There's barely enough room to fit the two of us on the bristles."

And that was certainly true. How could a rescue be effected with Bess and me, a stranded sheep, and one broom? I needed help. So I called for Vapour Trail.

I held her, communed, explained, and... an idea came. A surprising idea. A brilliant idea. And by brilliant, I mean something brilliant. The Pop O'Lock that had enhanced the broom morphed, shifted, changed. A platform appeared along the shaft of the broom. One large enough to fit one lost sheep.

Bess just stood there, in shock and disbelief. "You know, often when I hear tales of wondrous things, I get the feeling that somewhere in the telling and retelling, things get added simply to make it more interesting. If I ever figure out how to tell my experiences up here, I'm going to have to dial it back, otherwise no one will believe me."

In the few minutes it took to get everything situated, Bess was repeating the events of the day. And then muttering about not believing things herself. And then back to recounting the day's events.

If only she'd known things were going to be even more unbelievable before our outing concluded!

Now... by "unbelievable", I don't mean Bess' reaction to my suggestion that, with the rescued sheep perched on the just-created perch on the broom, that we should sit/stand/be downwind of said sheep and any... how should I say this?... waste material that could fly at us. And for some reason, whether Bess would be in front of or behind me didn't really matter. Since I'd always flown Vapour Trail handle-end in front, it didn't dawn on me (until Bess' adamant refusal to fly that way) that we could fly bristle-end first. 

Which then got me thinking about everything we'd done so far with Pop making the needed modifications, which led to my taking a minute with the broom, having a bit of a chat about a thought or two, and...

"What the...? Where did...? What...?" That, probably needless to say, was Bess after she saw the... I suppose "edifice" is an adequate word for what now sat on the bristles. Made purely of light (but as solid as rock) was a tower. Of sorts. It wasn't big in terms of footprint, but was big enough to allow for small rooms stacked one on top of the other. Sleeping cubbies, sitting rooms, an observation deck on top... I think I forgot to mention that there need not be too many rooms or levels.

Bess approached it, seemingly having a difficult time processing it. "It's like something from an epic story The nemesis in the Ramayana was Ravana. And he'd managed to get his hands on a shape-shifting chariot called Pushpaka. With that he made something similar to this. Which just casually appeared after talking to your broom. I mean... who are you?!?"

I didn't know how to answer that, so I went with the familiar. "I'm Sweet. Just "Sweet". A witch. And someone who tends not to ask for help when she should because when I do, things like this are possible."

"Is there a bouncy castle in this thing?"

"What's a bouncy castle?"

She told me. Thinking she was serious, I asked Vapour Trail. A small adjustment later... "Yes. There is now."

"Of course there is." She started to enter the tower, then looked over her shoulder. "Bouncy castles are way more fun when bouncing in them is more than one." And then she smiled.

Tears started to flow. My heart exploded. My mind felt a tremendous pressure release of a sudden, leaving me a complete wreck on the inside. Happily miserable, that was me.

And again, felt more than anything, she slid in, held me, embraced me, hummed a lullaby, and just let me release my anxieties, my fears, my insecurities. I held on to her, my lifeline, my safety, my comfort. "Thank you for being my friend, for coming here with me, seeing the world as I experience it."

She kissed my cheek in acknowledgement, then said, "Do you know what will make this rescue even better? The bouncy castle!" She pulled out of the embrace, wiped the tears from my eyes, then grabbed my hand and led me to the tower. "I know you probably know where it is but don't tell me! Let's find it together!" Which is how we flew to the Bleaters' Farm - one sheep on a platform (which became more of a stall) and two silly women jumping and bouncing and laughing and exhausting themselves. And one broom on more-or-less autopilot (because, since I'd been to the farm once already, it could follow my mental map).

Later, two sweaty women were laying on the springy floor, all played out. "Sweet? Did I ever tell you about my fear of heights?"

"No. But I got the idea."

"I could get used to this, though! Imagine! Flying from place to place in a light palace. Would you ever consider...?"

"Consider what?"

Bess hesitated, then, "No. Nothing. Forget I said anything."

I shrugged. "Ok."

We sat quietly for a minute or two. I was on the verge of not forgetting about whatever Bess had been about to ask when we felt a slight weight press down on us, then release. The thought came to me that we might have landed. That was followed up by sheep bleating, children calling out, and farm smells seeping through the walls.

It took a minute to descend, which gave one of the Bleater's older children time to approach the broom. "Ah! Mistress Sweetwater! This is an impressive... vehicle. What brings you here?"

The baaaa of the sheet came before my answer. "I believe that sheep is yours?"

"I believe so. Find her on Moonbreaker Mountain?"

"No. The Cloud Isles."

That stopped him. "But... how?"

I admitted that I didn't know. And then I opened the light pen and allowed the sheep to exit. By that time Mrs. Bleater had made her way to us. "Mistress. You're getting to be quite the shepherd! Will you and your friend join us for dinner?" Bess and I quickly looked at each other, gave affirmative looks, then I said, "We'd be delighted."

"Wonderful! I'll let you freshen up."

Much like last time, there was a parade of children who led us to a room where there was a basin of water and some cloths. What was different this time was the presence of someone who could muster up martial music at the drop of a hat. We all trooped off into the house.

And much like my prior visit, the dinner served by the family was basic, and yet there was plenty and it was all tasty. After dinner and clean up, Bess was introduced to the song the Bleaters like to sing when hosting company (and was also a favourite of the old witch), She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain. While I contributed a couple of verses, like "She'll Be Flying Vapour Trail When She Comes", Bess put together a few gems, and even included one that got the children excited, "She'll Be Bringin' Sweets and Chocolates When She Comes" (until they realized Bess' pockets were empty). Another verse she used made fun of our failed reagent hunt. "She'll Have Failed to Find Some Whale Poop When She Comes".

See - and I forgot to mention it earlier - we'd spotted Star Shards right away and so I thought we could also find ambergris. Technically, ambergris is a whale excretion. So it could be whale sweat. Or whale eye mucous. Or... it's whale poop. And despite looking high and low for it (and we found plenty of things that looked like ambergris but weren't), we didn't find any. Bess, oddly, seemed relieved every time we didn't find some. Weird.

Anyway, the Bleaters very politely offered to have us to stay the night. Bess and I declined at the same time. Which really was a bit weird. I mean, I know with Vapour Trail I can get home from anywhere and do so safely (and, by special request, do so in a bouncy castle). Bess, though - she seemed unusually anxious to not spend the night here. I had told her, on our way during the sheep rescue, about the group bed and how it had been a bit cramped but otherwise very comfortable. However, in the end, we both were in agreement about not staying. A couple of the younger daughters begged us to stay, with another one saying she was glad I wouldn't be snoring in her ear!

We bid farewell, climbed into the much less elaborate broom, and headed off. (We sat in a small enclosed space on the bristles. It allowed us to feel like we were flying through the dark of night but without the cold wind cutting through us).

It'd been a long day. We were both worn out. Vapour Trail was taking us towards High Rannoc as smoothly as can be imagined. And then... I saw the sky move. It was like the field of stars in the sky were jewels sewn onto a blanket and that it had just been smoothed out. I was suddenly awake. And heading up to take a look.

Bess was reclined into a cozy corner of our space. She looked up at me. "What's up, Buttercup?"

I told her I'd spotted something odd and that I wanted to check it out before we got back home. It was probably nothing, but I thought it important to make sure.

"Thank you, by the way, for not putting the bouncy castle in again. I'm exhausted! But it's a shame the kids didn't have a chance to play in it."

While most of me was watching the sky for more unusual movement, a part of me heard and wondered. That was an excellent point - something children could enjoy. I could set it up for the Festival. Aside from entertaining the kids, it might help my reputation with the parents. I'd definitely need to consider it.

As we approached the summit of the mountain, I spotted the lighthouse that had emitted the aura I'd seen previously. Tonight, however, it was dark. But the sky did move again. Something was going on.

I landed Vapour Trail on the peak, then stepped onto the hard rock. Aside from the stars above us, it was all dark. Dark below, dark around, dark most everywhere. Stars above. And as I watched, a grouping of stars started to move, undulate, twist, and start to form a shape. "Bess? You seeing this?"

She stepped next to me, grabbed my hand, pointed with her other hand and asked, "That swirling bit of stars that's impossibly huge?"

"Yeah. That."

"What is it?"

"Aside from a swirling bit of stars that's impossibly huge? I don't know."

As we were speaking, the stars began to coalesce. And from the general area of the stars taking shape, a voice emerged. "Would you care to be enlightened?"

Gulping a little, I addressed the starlight. "Yes, please."

A shape began to form. Large, serpentine, winged. A dragon! Bess released my hand and performed a deep curtsey. "How may we address you, oh grand one?"

The laughter that shot forth was intense, but not aggressive, and changed as the star shape changed, from dragon to human female. "Of course a bard would know the lore about dragons and massive egos", she said. The voice was now rich, sultry - one that any orator would envy. "And a witch will wish to know what parts of me could be used to treat human afflictions. The answer to that is - none. Or perhaps that's not entirely true - I see you've picked up a piece of my shedding."

It took me a second to realize what was being referred to. "Do you mean the Star Shard?"

"I do indeed.

"As to what you may call me, I've been given a multitude of names by any number of peoples all over the earth. I choose to have you use 'Nut'".

Nut? That sounded pretty... ordinary. You'd think a grand creature like a dragon would have a more grand name. As I thought that, I lapsed silent. Bess, however, was in her element.

"What peoples use that name for you?"

"People who live many thousands of kilometres away, in a desert, who cluster around a life-giving river. They call themselves 'Egyptians'." Then she changed topics. "To what do I owe the honour of this visit?"

I spoke up. "I saw the sky... ummm... wrinkle. I wasn't sure why, so I decided to take a look."

Starry eyebrows raised. "Indeed? Without knowing what could possibly cause it and certainly without any ability to fix the sky, you came up here anyway?"

"Ah... yes. Nut."

The entire universe reverberated with her laughter. "You are as audacious in person as what I've observed from up high."

I wasn't sure if that had been a good laugh or a bad one. "My deepest apologies if our coming here disturbed you in any way."

She looked at us. "I watch the comings and goings of all things from up here. The Egyptians revere me as a god, to the point of believing I swallow the sun at dusk and give birth to it at dawn. I've watched mountains rise and fall, rivers etch the landscape, forests grow and die off. But what I don't ever experience", and here she paused, "is conversation. I see but am too far away to hear. I observe but can only guess the meanings behind actions. You are a welcome distraction."

Which is how Nut, Bess, and I conversed for most of the night. And by converse, I mean that Nut was full of questions about the whys and wherefores of life in and around High Rannoc. What was a little strange was the lack of questions about Bess and I individually, as if she knew that some questions she might ask cold breach our respective privacy. So I guess, while odd, once I realized what she was doing, I was grateful. 

Which... as I'm writing this now, I'm not entirely sure why I would be grateful since I don't have any secrets (that I'm aware of), but maybe Bess did. Does. Whatever.

Anyway, we talked for what seemed like forever. But, as the light of dawn began to glow in the East, Nut said, "It appears I'm getting ready to give birth to the sun. Before it rises into the sky and obscures everything, let me bestow gifts."

Nut reached out and brought into view... something. It had a body, and strings, and... other things... all made of individual points of light. "Play it only in darkness, but however you wish."

"Thank you. May I try it?"

Nut nodded. And Bess... I don't know what exactly it was that she played, but it sounded like something only royalty, and not human royalty, would ever hear. Glistening stars fell from twinkling eyes. "That was magnificent. Thank you, Bess."

To me, Nut gave a crystal. "This is called a Moonstone, harvested from the Moon. It will purify potions. After a few uses, it must itself be purified. You must discover the purification process for yourself - like the moon, Moonstone can be fickle, changeable, and cloak things in layers of shadow."

I curtsied, not as elegantly or smoothly as Bess, but with genuine emotion and gratitude. "My apologies, Nut, but I have nothing to give to you."

"Your curiosity has already given me a gift. Besides, who knows when the needs of a dragon, even a star dragon, might require a skilled witch."

We bowed and bobbed and with all the social niceties observed (I followed Bess for pretty much all of it), we got onto/into Vapour Trail. She lifted off and I pointed her home.

"Sweet? You said, and it feels like ages ago, that my wish is your command. Is that still true?"

"Absolutely."

"Then my wish is that I pass out here and now and not go through all the trouble of going to my wagon tonight. Is that ok?"

"It's your wish, my Lady, so therefore my command."

I felt a change in Vapour Trail - the floor became softer, like a down-filled mattress, and layers of warm blankets materialized. A pillow sprang up from under her head.

"And... join me?"

I looked at her. She'd been through a lot today, said her eyes, and a sleeping companion would be a welcome way to bring a bit of normalcy back to her life. A second pillow emerged, next to Bess'. And I slid under the covers next to her. She threw an arm over me, whispered a thanks into my ear, and quickly gave herself up to a much needed sleep.

Before I dozed off, I instructed Vapour Trail to land on the cottage grounds and to let us sleep uninterrupted until we were ready to wake up.

I just wish Vapour Trail wasn't so easily convinced to allow a nosey mouse and a grumpy donkey to disturb us. 

Spring, Week 10 - The Traveling Troubadour

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

*****

 It's been a tough few weeks. The whole mess with the mayor... it's been stressful. And I've been avoiding people, companionship, even friendships. I know there are people in High Rannoc who support me. I'm feeling lonely, despite having penpals in the Here Yet Not Here and the friendly faces of everyone and everything living on the grounds. I think I'm ready to face down the rumour mongers and spend a bit of time amongst friends. Or, at the very least, be in town and show everyone that I'm not ashamed to show my face. I'll ride into town on Vapour Trail, all lit up and beautiful, and... and there is no 'and'. I'll just go and be brave and face whatever needs facing.

Despite coming to a decision about what I'm going to do, I've found myself doing little things here and there which, were anyone to judge my actions, could view them as avoidance. Not that I'd agree with that conclusion! It's just that, when faced with something that could go badly, and quickly, socially, I find that there are things that I see that need doing before taking on anything new. Like the cauldron needing a good scrubbing. The hearth needs a good sweep. The chimney should get a good scrubbing to keep the creosote under control. The...

"Hello, hello! To the faire I go!

I know the way, just steps away

and maybe it won't start today

but I'll keep singing anyway!"

So... I'm covered, head to toe, in black ash and grime and there's someone approaching the cottage singing exuberantly. I hope it's not someone suffering from a singing sickness needing immediate treatment! It'll take days just to get to a semblance of clean! And still the singing got closer.

"Hello, hello! Is anybody home?

I'm free to roam, with no fixed home

Is anybody home?"

And then a knock.

Now, as to how this bard didn't see me on the roof as I finished up the chimney... I was hiding. Yes - I, Mistress Sweetwater, witch of High Rannoc and environs, was lying down on the roof trying hard to not be noticed. The lonely witch, absolutely covered in soot, avoiding a knock at the door, and I...

"There's a bard knocking at the door." I realized, with MouseEye's voice coming from in front of me, that I'd closed my eyes. Because apparently that helped me hide better! So I opened them and, sure enough, MouseEye was up on the roof with me, crouching down, hiding, too.

"I know!", I hissed.

"Are you going to answer it?" MouseEye's eyes glittered with mischief. 

"No!"

"Ok. I will." And before I could stop him, he ran, sprang, and disappeared. I groaned inwardly. And then I heard, "Just one moment please! Mistress Sweetwater is indisposed. Please come in and make yourself comfortable."

There was no helping it. Now I had to come down and deal with... someone. Great.

"She's making herself at home. You're welcome." MouseEye was lying down next to me again, grinning. I swear, MouseEye should be happy I can't literally shoot daggers out of my eyes because at this moment I was trying really hard to make them shoot something. Given his impudent grin, I was indeed shooting something, but something less deadly and more ticklish. 

Fine. Fine! I'm going to handle this the best way I can. I stood up, called for Vapour Trail, and waited for a second.

Ok - it was a little longer than a second. It was exactly long enough for the visitor to stride out from the cottage and watch as I caught my broom, jump off the roof, and settle onto the ground. I think I felt a small cloud of ash rise up with my landing.

We both started talking at the same time, then quickly stopped. Then the bard made a grand gesture and said, "Pleased to meet you, Mistress Sweetwater. I'm the Traveling Troubadour, Bess by name, bard by trade, minstrel to all far and wide."

I smiled. I couldn't help myself. There was something just so... familiar. Easy. Fun. And it was infectious. I'd certainly caught something that turned my mood 180 degrees. "I'm afraid Mistress Sweetwater isn't here just yet. But I dare say that in an hour, and after a really good wash, she'll be here. For right now, just call me Ash. Ly. Ashly. 

Her eyes glittered back. "Ashly, can I get your Mistress' fire going while you wash up?"

"That would be delightful. Thank you."

And that was that. I took a towel and a lot of soap with me to the stream and Bess got the fire going.

It felt like forever to get all the grime off and feel clean. By which I mean almost all the grime because it just wouldn't all wash off!

Note to self - self-sufficiency is nice, but I bet I could hire help and not feel like I'm a walking ash pit. Even the few coughs I've had are a smokey grey! But I finally got to where I didn't feel filthy anymore, then headed back to the cottage. 

I hadn't forgotten that I had a visitor but I did sort of lose track of it because I couldn't help but be a little surprised when I walked into the cottage and Bess was there in front of the fire, looking at the spirit house. 

"You look cleaner. And a lot happier for it."

"Would you mind if...?" and I gestured to the door. 

She nodded in acknowledgement, then closed the door behind her. I took a minute to get dried off and dressed, and then opened the door. I didn't see her right away, but coming from a short way off was quiet singing. I followed the sound and found Bess sitting under a tree.

 "Either that was a very quick hour that passed or you are a much cleaner Ashly."

"No. It's Mistress Sweetwater now. Or just Sweet. It felt like it'd take an hour just to start to feel clean! Would you like some tea?"

"I'd love some!"

We chatted all the way back to the cottage. Which, to be honest, was very unusual for me. When people come to the cottage, they come with a purpose, i.e. to be cured of some affliction. And then they leave. And I like it like that. And so, to be happy and chatty with anyone is really unusual. 

"It's a hazard of the profession", she said when I mentioned it to her. "When you travel around, meeting people, hearing news, learning stories, you have to be approachable, charismatic even. So don't worry - you aren't the first person to feel like you're in danger of talking my ear off!" She laughed as she told me.

We'd settled into the cottage, drinking tea, trading stories. She told me about some places she'd visited, "... but I haven't been to the Imperial City. Yet. One day." And some of her adventures. "But enough about me! How'd you get me talking so much?"

I told her about being a witch, of some of my cures, places I'd been, and some of my adventures. By the time we'd traded stories, the day was well along. I'd been talking so much I didn't notice until the slanting sun shone through a window. "Oh my goodness! I just realized I'm famished. You must be too. Can I invite you to stay for dinner? It's not much but it is tasty." She gratefully accepted.

As I cooked, she sang and told stories. Most of the time it was in Commonspeak but here and there were different languages - some sound vaguely familiar while others were just plain strange.

After eating and cleaning up, I asked if she needed a place to sleep. "It's awfully generous but I've got a wagon and donkey parked by the entryway to your footpath here. Marvin, that's my donkey, will be fine - he's got plenty to eat. And my wagon's got a bed in it. That's one thing I got early on in my travels! It may sound romantic to sleep under the stars or even under a tent, but a real bed is priceless. So I'm all set for tonight.

"But I do want to thank you for your hospitality today. Would it be ok if I made us some breakfast tomorrow before I head into the town?"

"Thank you! Sounds lovely. Oh - are you here for the Spring Festival? It's not for three weeks yet, but I believe it's quite the thing."

"Three weeks early? I... I guess I lost track of the days! It's longer than I usually stay in any one place, but let's see how things go and if it makes sense, I'll stay for it."

The sun was on the verge of dipping below the horizon when Bess, whistling, made her way towards her wagon.

And as I went to bed, I felt... it was like a warm spot in my soul. I have penpals (and a Best Bestie!) but this, this instantaneous friendship, is wonderful!

I woke up the next morning in a fantastic mood. And yes, it was before the sun rose! I wanted the day to start and to be long and wonderful.

Before it gets asked - yes, I had the fire up and ready to go. What I had for plates and cutlery were polished. Multiple times. It kept me from pacing in the cottage. Staying in the cottage kept me from knocking on a certain someone's wagon door!

"Nervous much?", said a bleary-eyed mouse.

"No! Why would I be?"

"No reason. Silly of me to ask."

It was a good question. Why was I so... not nervous, exactly, but... ummm... nervous. I guess. But not a bad nervous! A good nervous. A...

"Knock knock!", said the very welcome figure who stepped in.

"Hi!", I chirped. 

She laughed throatily. "You're quite awake. Sleep ok?"

"I did! And you?"

"So good. Ready for breakfast a la Bess?"

"Ravenous."

"Good! Then let's get cooking!"

Bess surveyed what I had, then grabbed a few ingredients and started cooking. It smelled... ummm... how to put it?... alarmingly bad. 

"Can I help?", I asked as I peered over her shoulder. 

There was this look on her face, a comical mix of apology, embarrassment, and overwhelm. "I really wanted to surprise you with a good breakfast. And I think I really wanted to surprise myself with the ability to make one! But... ah... it's not to be this morning. I'm sorry I've wasted the food."

"No worries! How about this - you tell a tale or two and I'll whip up a couple of omelettes tout de suite." 

I tossed her cooking atrocity out and quickly replaced it with my plain Jane (but filling and tasty) fair. Meanwhile, she told a story about the love of a fisherman, who lived along a river, for a river nymph and the child that was born from that relationship. His name was Bank and he lived a remarkable life. It was as if the spirit of humanity and the river water combined to form someone who could go with the flow when needed but could also blast through and around any and all obstacles in his way. He became a wise mayor, a beneficent provider, and a fierce protector. When he died at the ripe old age of 352 years, his body was placed in the river, where it literally dissolved and washed away. 

I had to force myself to not pay all my attention to her telling - I didn't want to scrap yet another breakfast attempt!

As we ate, I decided to tease Bess a little. "Where did you learn your cookery skills?" I grinned as I asked.

She took a minute to chew a few extra, and perhaps not absolutely necessary, times. "I... ah... didn't spend much time in kitchens, growing up. I was... ah... doing other things. Other chores. You know?"

I had to ask. "So... what were you trying to put together this morning?"

She gave me a weak smile. "Tavern keepers make it look so easy - just throw things together and have it be delicious. So I figured, how hard can it be? Now I know! I should've stuck with roasting miscellaneous rodent and/or birds on a spit over an open fire."

"Open fire - check. But I'm a bit short on rodent."

We both laughed and finished eating. We both started to say, "Shall we...?", then stopped.

I looked at her, crossed my arms, then said, "Well? Shall we?" And she did the same back. "Well? Shall we?" And laughing, we both said "yes" at the same time. And then we both just stood there. Which was funny on its own. 

"What did we just say we should do?", I asked.

"I thought it was some combination of cleaning up, then heading into High Rannoc. I need to ingratiate myself at a local tavern..."

"The. There's only one. The Copper Fox."

"... right. Right! The tavern. And start playing sets. That brings in customers which then brings me silver, and the occasional free drink, and everyone is happy."

"Ok. Good! And I'll.. I guess..."

"Why, you shall provide cures as needed, listen enraptured to me, and overall have a good time. What say you?"

It sounded good. Great even. It'd be nice to have a reason to stay in town for a while, socialize a bit (and hopefully that silly mayor business had, or would, blow over), and just relax. It'd be a rare treat. We cleaned up, then headed to her wagon.

To say it's a modest wagon is, well... accurate. It's quite small and, in essence, a tiny cabin on wheels. Painted on each side of the cabin walls are painted pictures of Bess and a mandolin. Words certainly weren't needed - the pictures got the idea across. And besides, I don't think a lot of people know how to read.

As we approached, her donkey looked up from grazing. Now - I might've been seeing things, but I swear the donkey gave Bess a quick questioning look and she just as quickly shook her head ever-so-slightly no. I would've disregarded it completely if not for the flash of resigned annoyance on the donkey's face and the accompanying snort. Bess looked at me and saw incomprehension. "Oh, don't mind Marvin. You know how donkeys are."

Right. It seems my adage about things not being as they seem has now been extended to encompass Bess and Marvin. So long as it's not harmful to me, we're all good!

She got Marvin harnessed in and we rode on the wagon together for the few minutes it took to arrive outside the Copper Fox Tavern. And not much after that, I'd introduced Fussy and Bess, her wagon was positioned to showcase a bard was now in town, and she was already playing for the couple of patrons eating their meals.

I felt bad that so few people were here to listen, but both Fussy and Bess assured me everything was just fine. Give it time, they said. Advertising comes in many forms, they said. It'd be the crowd tonight that would dictate just how successful (or not) Bess had been at drawing and keeping a crowd.

And they were so right. The afterwork and dinner crowd was bigger than usual (so said Fussy), but it was the rowdy evening crowd that Bess really played to. The songs were boisterous, bawdy, bodacious even. And a major hit. People sang, danced, swayed (mostly from the enormous amounts of beer and spirits being consumed), and overall had a fantastic time. Fussy was run off his feet keeping up with orders, Robert Robertson was doing his best to help, and even I got enlisted. The roar of the room was enough to bury whatever mean and/or rude comments were directed towards me.

As the nighttime entertainment continued, the mayor and his wife came in and sat down. Things got a bit tense at first, almost as if the people in the room were embarrassed to be having a good time, but the mayor quickly began singing along with the songs and the room exhaled. His wife, a severe-looking woman, sat watching the proceedings, not participating much at all. Maybe it was because she was under the weather - her nose looked red and she was constantly dabbing at it with a handkerchief. And not much after coming in, she left, leaving her husband to get more and more drunk.

They didn't pay attention to me at all. Thank all the gods for that!

At some point, Bess called it a night, the crowd dispersed, Fussy started cleaning the tavern before counting the take, and Robert and I did our best to help clean up. By the time we were all done, it was super late, I was exhausted, and we all started to head to our collective beds.

I'd figured Bess had gone to her wagon to sleep since I didn't see her outside. So I started heading home. Which is when MouseEye popped onto my shoulder. "Something's wrong. Go check on Bess."

That woke me up. Alarm bells, accompanied with flashes of red-hot fire, flashed through my mind's eye. "Where is she?"

"Down near the Lunar Tower."

As I began to run, I asked, "Is anyone with her? Is she ok?"

"No. And no."

Minutes later, and following the sound of coughing, I found her sitting with her back to the solid rock of the Ritual Stone. The little labyrinth that led to the centre was still filled with debris but she'd somehow made her way through. 

"Bess?", I called.

"What's happening to me?", she cried.

At first I thought she was referring to her coughing. And then, after a minute, I realized she was definitely referring to her coughing. 

"I was feeling fine! But I needed a bit of air so I walked down here. And then I started hacking away! But I still feel fine! *cough cough*

Her voice is mellow, melodious, rich. The cough was rough, severe, and an octave or two higher than it should've been. She was coughing someone else's cough.

I asked if she wanted company going back to the wagon. 

"I can't go back into town! If people suspect I'm unwell, they'll at best assume I won't be performing for a few days. At worst they'll blame me for all the pounding headaches and body aches they're going to feel from being hungover. No - I'll stay here. But... can you help me?"

Mentally, I scanned the old witch's book and found a diagnosis: Ventriloquist Cough. I needed to act fast, if for no other reason that Bess' voice could be affected for days, and also because the silly goose insisted on staying out here. Even when I offered her to stay at my cottage, she declined.

Ok then. Time for this witch to do her thing.

I raced home and scanned the book for the cure details. Ghost Goo, already in the cupboard, would take care of half the problem. For the other, I needed to go to... the Hollow.

I stifled my automatic complaining about the place and instead grabbed my things and headed off with MouseEye on my shoulder.

"You don't suppose...", I started to say as I made my way towards the dungeon.

"Suppose what?"

It felt like I knew what was going on, on one level at least, but the dots just weren't connecting in the 'racing-to-the-area-I-hate-after-spending-the-day-being-around-more-people-than-I've-ever-been-around-in-my-life-and-exhausted-from-a-half-dozen-different-causes-not-least-of-all-was-a-magical-malady-that-had-struck-my-new-friend' level.

But luck was with me. In a couple of ways, in fact. One was that I didn't trip and kill myself. And the other was that I found a map at the Hollow's entrance. Which is to say that MouseEye spotted it and called my attention to it.

As maps go, it was pretty terrible. I knew enough about the Hollow to spot several errors and omissions. But what it did show was the location of Darkwater. It was something I'd never used before and was located in a part of the dungeon I hadn't explored yet. But! - and this was a big but - it was exactly what I needed.

In my mind, back at the level that was busy connecting dots, more and different dots were being drawn into the big picture (or pictures, I had no clue), which I was still not grasping at my current level (which pretty much consisted of stumbling forward towards the next needed step to make a potion).

I hoped the Mimic, as Igor calls it, would show up and guide me. Nope. I hoped MouseEye would talk to me to help distract me from my exhaustion. Didn't happen. And, frankly, I was too tired to ask. But the map was accurate enough and by following it, I reached a... it's not something you can call a well or spring. It was kind of like a pool full of a heavy, very sweet, very dark, syrup. I'd hesitate to add hot water and turn it into a tea; it was just that sweet!

A little while later, I was back home prepping the potion. Ghost Goo boiled and to it I added the raw Darkwater (and since Darkwater induces a medical sleeping condition, I added some Wigfish to counteract it). With it all prepped, I made my way back to Bess.

True to her word, she'd stayed at the Ritual Stone, still coughing that awful hack. I navigated the brambles so I could hand her the potion. A few gulps of potion later, and gagging from the clinging and cloying sweet, she stopped coughing. We both waited to see if the dreaded cough would come back. It didn't, leaving both of us relieved.

We were now, both of us, leaning against the cool, heavy stone, enjoying the coughless quiet and (for me, anyway), the lack of creepy dungeon darkness. The night here was refreshing - dark but delightful. 

"Thank you. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't cured me." She leaned over and laid her head on my shoulder. It felt... comfortable.

"I think it would've gone away on its own. Someone cursed you. Someone with a cough, I should say, cursed you to cough for them. So after they would've stopped coughing, you'd've stopped too. But it's good we got it stopped before your singing voice was affected."

The quiet settled on us again. Until...

"Sweet? Did that potion have to be so... sweet?"

"Well... of course!", I replied in mock outrage. We both got a chuckle from that.

"Shall we head to bed? It's really starting to get chilly." I think I said that. Maybe she did. I was so tired I think we both ended up napping where we were sitting. By mutual agreement, we headed back. I had to walk through town to exit through the correct gate, so I walked her to her wagon.

"Thank you again. I mean it. Thank you." She gave me a quick hug and a peck on the cheek before dashing inside her wagon. And I... I walked home. Both happy that I'd cured her and miserable that the night had come to an end.

Numb, I trudged home, undressed (more out of habit than anything else), and collapsed into bed.

Ordinarily, that would be that. I'd effected a cure, they'd left, and I was left alone to my own devices. Ordinarily, that was the order of things, the normal course of affairs, my preferred existence. But... today?... tomorrow?... yesterday?... what time is it? What day is it? *sigh* What use is it asking these tough questions when the blankets are very securely over my head, blocking out whatever is going on out there? I'm good right here, lying still, hearing the birds chirp. So... morning? I guess? Morning's for the birds. Let them enjoy it. I'll just lie here until... the cows come home. And that's a safe saying, given my absolute lack of anything resembling a bovine. Now that that's settled, I'll just lie here until... there's a whistling on the wind. A non-bird, and very non-bovine, whistling. A...

"Knock knock, anybody home?"

I heard her open the door and walk in. I heard her walk over to the edge of the bed. I felt her sit on the edge. And I felt her gently tap my head through the blankets, and laugh. "That was quite the night. I'm glad you've slept in. So, how about this - you make breakfast, I'll serenade you while you do, and then you can take me somewhere that's beautiful, peaceful, and above all free of people insisting that I carry the burden of their coughing."

There was warmth in her voice. Caring. Concern. Compassion. But I just... I just lay there.

"Or I could cook up something extra special for us and..."

The way to a man's heart may be through his stomach, but the way to a woman's brain is through threatening to make a horrid mess of her kitchen.

I popped my head out from under the blankets. And immediately regretted it - it was so bright!

"Ok, maybe more like lunch. I'm not picky."

I looked around as if seeing everything for the first time. Then looked up into Bess' face. Her smiling face.

"Oh yeah. I told Fussy I'd take today off but that I'll play in or around the tavern until the festival."

I became aware that: 1. I couldn't get out of bed because she was sitting on the blankets and, 2. If I did get out of bed, I'd be quite... exposed. "Wanna give me a few minutes?"

"Sure thing."

In a repeat of yesterday (was it really only yesterday?), she settled on a seat near the cottage, humming and singing, while I quickly got around and then let her know I was dressed.

I cooked, she sang, we both ate. Lovely.

As we cleaned up, she asked where I was taking us. It seemed like an opportune time to check to see if Lady Copeland had written back, and of course the beach and Loch are gorgeous, so I suggested we go there.

As to how... I'd never tried two people on my broom but thought it'd be fun to try. So we stepped outside, I held up my hand, and Vapour Trail came as called.

"That is so cool that you can do that! And I still can't believe you own a real-live flying broom!"

It took a few minutes to figure out what seating configuration was best, but finally with me in front and Bess behind me, arms around my waist, off we went. My head still wasn't fully there, so I kept the showboating to a minimum. But, of course, I had to do a little! I felt Bess' uncertainty in the movement of Vapour Trail and so kept the ride fluid and loose. There was no sense in doing something risky and crashing into a tree.

The Loch's waters gently lapped the shore, a breeze kept the leaves moving to and fro, and the sand was warm. A perfect day at the beach!

I told her about the message in a bottle I'd gotten from my newest penpal. I then recited the poem she'd written. Bess' eyes went wide as the words rolled off my lips.

"Wow. Um... hmmm...", was all Bess said.

We stayed all day. We swam, sun-bathed, talked, joked, traded stories. I think she began composing one to start memorializing her trip to High Rannoc. It was lovely.

The sun began to set. Shadows lengthened, the breeze off the water picked up, even the temperature began to drop.

Two more things happened. The first wasn't so much something that happened but more what was noticed. Vapour Trail, which has a perpetual glow (thanks to the Pop O' Lock that merged with her), became more and more bright (comparatively) and brilliant. It took my breath away. For Bess - she was left nearly speechless. "I wondered if your broom glowed but I chalked it up to tricks of the light. But, wow, was I ever wrong! How...?"

It was as she was trying to put her feelings into words that the second thing happened: from a mist that began to rise from the Loch's waters, a ship emerged. A misty, ghostly, ethereal, three-masted ship. And on the deck of the ship were crew members. Looking at us. While we looked at them. And then Bess and I looked at each other. 

"Are you doing that?" Which makes sense for her to ask because I was wondering if somehow she was!

"No. And I take it you aren't."

"Not I, said the cat."

That stopped me - which is funny because her response caught my attention more, in that moment, than the ship and crew that had just materialized. "What's that about a cat?"

"Little Red Hen. An old tale. I'll tell it to you sometime."

Ah. As I digested that, the ship's captain came to the rail. "Ahoy! What might these waters be called?"

"Meltwater Loch!", I yelled back.

A pause, then, "Might you know the way to the township known as 'Racine'? It's famous for its moss piglet exhibition."

Bess and I looked at each other and shared shrugs. "Sorry, haven't heard of it, let alone know how to get there."

Another pause. "Well, apparently neither does my Navigator! No matter! We're here and anchored. I'd be honoured if you'd grace us with your presence onboard!"

Another shared shrug. "Sure!"

"Wonderful! Wait there and I'll have a boat launched to bring you over."

I raised my hand and Vapour Trail, in all her lighted glory, shot into my hand.

"Or you can make your own way here!"

A minute later, Bess and I were on deck. And minutes after that, there were songs, dancing, and drinking all over the ship. Bess reached for an accordion and played songs. As crew members sang their songs and told their tales, she was actively listening, learning, absorbing. She collected songs and tales the way I collect reagents - every chance we get!

I did hear someone say something like "Well shiver me timbres! Listen to that voice." before an older crew member slapped him across the chest. "Mind yourself or go below." And then the first one said something like, "Well, Quartermaster, I hear you, but there's a... a mast belowdecks and..." followed by another slap. "These ladies are the Captain's guests. Would you insult the Captain and his guests, and sully his hospitality?" There was a far more meek "No, sir." and then the Quartermaster ended with "Then not another word on the matter." It all struck me as odd, but then again, so much of what tends to happen to and around me is odd, I didn't give it another thought. Instead, I danced. It was fun and joyous. And thankfully didn't require much skill; enthusiasm was all.

While I could close this out with the nuts and bolts of the remainder of the night until finally we found ourselves to our respective beds, instead I'll leave it full of sea shanties, jigs, and the pure expressions of being alive.

That, and the repeated insistence of the Navigator that it hadn't been a mistake to not make a course correction to port off the coast of Albuquerque. 

Also Spring, Week 9 - Message in a Bottle

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

*****

 These past few weeks... no - wait... these past few days! have been crazy. The mayor... oooh - the mayor... every time I think I've finally put it past me, it comes trotting back into my headspace and I feel the need to go off and do something. Something that allows me to refocus on myself and my wellbeing, that is! For now, whatever is happening in town can stay in town.

I wonder if the town turned on the old witch and that's a reason why she left. Not that I haven't heard (or imagined) a few different reasons already. Maybe there were a bunch of factors, one of which was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back, and the town was one. And by the town, I mean the mayor.

And there I go again!

One of the benefits of my working through my frustrations with the mayor is that I'm taking time to explore different areas more deeply. I've been to the Bog, the Isles, and the Grove, so I think I'll continue my explorations and go to the Loch. By which I mean the beach! A bit of a swim, some time in the sun (and more time in the shade - my lovely tan, as lovely as it is, doesn't need another burning to make it even darker!), pick a few reagents (of course!) and overall have a relaxing time away. 

Hopefully this relaxation time won't involve my being chased by hungry, flying lizards!

I do hope I can finally get the whole mayor thing out of my head, out of my body, out of my space. Until then, I'm going to focus on me-time.

I put a few things together, let the spirit house know I was headed out, then popped onto my broom and flew off.

What can I say about Vapour Trail now that she's been "enhanced" by Pop? She feels even more nimble than before, more able to dance in the air, and, of course, the constant glow emanating from the broom - it was the epitome of the phrase, "tripping the light fantastic".

I suppose I could've flown straight to Meltwater Loch using the existing path. I suppose I didn't need to slalom around trees and sometimes through foliage. And I suppose I didn't need to experiment a little with standing on the bristles and working the broom like a surfboard, laughing at the ridiculousness of it. 

I didn't need to. But I wanted to and I loved every minute! But I did want to go to the beach, so I did get there (eventually) and set up a spot in the dappled sun (but just steps from the water).

Note to self - set up a hammock! But that's something for a different day.

The day was perfect for laying in the warm sun, feeling the gentle breeze with a hint of salt, relaxing. No need to think about patients, no call to consider what I must do, and simply allow the day to pass without any worries, bothers, or distractions. *sigh* What a lovely feeling.

After a while, I decided to take a dip. It was... how should I put it?... teeth-chatteringly cold! Yes - refreshing, in much the same way that... actually, I don't know in what other way the refreshingness of a cold dip into a deep loch can be replicated! Brrr!!!

But it's also kind of addictive in its way. After getting out and warming up for a bit, I was ready for another round of plunging into the ice blue water again.

As I was getting in and out repeatedly, I figured I'd collect a few things. Nothing stressful or difficult to find - just things that required minimal effort to get.

Smooth Croak, for example. I'd collected the mucous from the colourful frogs before. This time I decided to offer one of them a new home. And just like that, one of them hopped towards Vapour Trail. I like simple!

And another simple request was made - this time for snails, producers of Slime Shell, to come live with me. A few started their slow but steady way towards the broom. 

Speaking of simple, I collected more Deep Reed. Last time there were Wigfish aplenty but this time there were no vain swimmers around.

In fact, I ended up with only two new things. The first was something called Mermaid's Gift. Why a toxic algae has "gift" in the name baffles me. And the fact that it's something primarily used to cure Male Pattern Baldness leaves, oh, I don't know, half the population of the world only seeing it as something not to put into a seafood stew!

That... it just irks me. A boy dies years ago and suddenly the Herbology School isn't letting students experience real-life experiences. Who knows how many girls disappeared or even died! But something happens to one boy (granted it was the head family's son) and everything has to change. Really!

And then that whole thing with the mayor! He makes some sort of accusation, or perhaps not even, and all of a sudden my reputation is being examined and judged. 

It's so frustrating!

But I know I'm not the only one who feels this way. Which brings me to the second new thing I found - a bottle. A sealed bottle. An old, sealed bottle. With, on my first examination of it, a letter inside. A message in a bottle. Rather than open it on the beach, I decided to bring it back with me to the cottage. 

I'm so glad I waited to open it!

With all these things found and collected (and the snails finally finishing their huge 100 metre trek to the broom - I couldn't help them - they have pride, you know), I decided to pack up and head back. 

Impatiently, I made my way back using the fastest route I could think of, got everything (and everyone) situated, made a quick meal, then, as it cooled, I opened the bottle. 

The reason I was so happy to have waited until I was home is because the bottle was packed with paper. Packed! It took a bit of coaxing to get the papers to come out without tearing. 

I began eating and reading. And reading. And reading some more. The amount of ink alone was enough to make the letter heavy, let alone the quality paper. And the bottle itself - it looked like one of those stained glass windows they use in posh mansions and houses of worship. I didn't think they were seaworthy! (Turns out they usually aren't - but this bottle, made to emulate those windows, was).

I won't bother trying to summarize everything here, but do know there was a lot said about the sender of the letter, who signed it "Lady Copeland". She talked about the sting of winter winds, the wish to see Stew and Andy (friends of hers. Minstrels I believe) in the coming months (having seen them on several of the preceding summers), and all sorts of domestic things happening in and around Imperial City. 

Imperial City?!? While I'd only become recently aware of such a place, this letter was from someone living there!

But there were also tales of difficulties. The police, apparently, were tasked not only with fighting crime but with controlling its citizens' behaviours as well. In particular, or at least for Lady Copeland, was the fact that while she desired to write, to be a poet or an author, to take her thoughts on the Rights of All (regardless of gender, race, colour, etc.) to the public, she couldn't. Not only was she prevented from publishing, she wasn't allowed to share her thoughts with anyone.

Being a lady of means meant that she did have access to things, mostly stored away in forgotten rooms inside her mansion. Ink and paper were easy - she could write to friends no problem. It was the bottle that was the big find for her because it had a magic on it that would allow it to act like a carrier pigeon (of sorts) - once it had found an endpoint, it could travel the waters between on its own.

Aside from the already mentioned day-to-day goings-on, and the brief thesis (as she described it, anyway. I didn't think it short!), she also included a poem because she hoped to find, not just someone interested in Equality, but also knowledgeable in literature. This is what she wrote:

Perambulating like doxie muskrats

Pennant-filled joyous colours

Accusatory commingling rough with sweet

Flabbergasted pawns enraged

Dissecting rainbows, vainglorious

    of crinoline and silk 

and asked for "honest feedback". 

I... ah... well... there are a lot of big words with lots of meaning in them but put together like that... ummm... I have no idea what it means! And maybe that's the point? I think I'm going to have to give the return letter a bit of a think. Maybe send Lady Copeland a sample of my poetry? But would someone like her enjoy what I write? I... I think I'll sleep on it!

*****

I slept on it. I can't say I found any clarity overnight, but maybe with pencil in hand and blank paper in front of me, I'll write something witty, or... *sigh* I think I'll just write what comes to mind.

With pencil hovering over paper but not knowing how to begin, I... 

What's all the racket? Why is everyone croaking? (or at least - why is everyone who naturally croaks croaking?)

Putting down my pencil (and secretly relieved at not staring at the blank page), I went outside to see what was up. I headed for Fen's place. MouseEye ended up on my shoulder halfway there. "The snails found something." 

The snails? Ok...

Minutes later, I found out what was all the fuss. There was a letter, addressed to the old witch, unopened. How it had ended up being mostly buried in bracken I'll never know, but what is certain is that the old witch never opened it.

I contemplated just leaving it, figuring it was not my business. But then I reasoned that if it affected the cottage or grounds, I should know. (And, to be honest, reading the letter meant not having to write mine!)

I thanked everyone for their diligence, then brought the letter back to the cottage. What was it that the letter said?

Turns out the old witch, when she was planning her journey to Imperial City, had actually had a bit of a schedule and had made lodging arrangements. This letter was in response to her request for a year's lease on a cottage outside of the city - which, given that she had her pet cow with her, made sense. However, in the reply, it said that while no cottages were presently available, they did have a lovely apartment on the third floor of a building that overlooks a market square. It also stated that unless she replied back within two weeks, that would be her reserved lodgings. 

The only words I could think were "cow pie, oh my". And as I laughed and thought about all the difficulties of having a cow climb three flights of stairs, not to mention the feeding and bathroom needs of Humphrey, I started to hear a poem. So I wrote it down:

Some time ago, a letter was sent

To confirm a room and appropriate rent

But missed within the conversation

A cow is part of the whole equation

Oh to be a fly on the wall

When a third floor room becomes a stall

The noise, the smell, the mess, oh my

With hay and hooves and, of course, cow pies

And then I set to writing my response. I introduced myself and gave some basic details. I told her that my skill with poetry wasn't at her level at all, but that the work sounded grand when spoken aloud. And that I hoped she'd enjoy something of mine.

I signed it, sealed it inside the gorgeous bottle, flew to the Loch, and set the bottle in the water near to where I'd found it. I watched as it orientated itself, began moving through the water (and leaving naught but the slightest wake), then dropped out of sight when it dove down into the depths.

I don't know how long it'll take for the bottle to make it's journey, or if the Lady will find it when it returns. I do hope she has a bit of a laugh when she reads my poem.

I find it interesting that I'm now corresponding with two people, both of whom I'll probably never meet, both of whom talk about being alone, or at least feeling alone. It's like we're castaways. Maybe not literally shipwrecked on a deserted island, but figuratively. 

The lovely thing is, I think, we know our value to the world. And maybe, just maybe, we can feel less alone in our being alone.

Spring, Week 9 - The Elf and the Sphinx

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

*****

 I don't normally leave an entry on a cliffhanger but I did in my last one. And at the time I did wonder what the night would bring! It had already been a day full of learning new things, seeing new places, being chased by an entirely new (to me, anyway) creature... so no wonder if I wondered what else would happen or be revealed! And to be fair, a couple of things were revealed after that last entry (and something that had happened that I didn't squeeze into my journal last time).

MouseEye told me about the nature of flying brooms, especially the old ones. The newer ones are made for anyone to fly - they're quite generic. But the old ones - they were built in a way that, if you didn't resonate with it, it'd present as a perfectly ordinary broom, or at least as a "nothing-particularly-special" flying broom. How awesome it is that this old broom, Vapour Trail, did resonate with me.

Speaking of the broom, and Pop... throughout the night, Pop (the one attached to Vapour Trail) continued to divide and flow and morph. It was like watching festive lights multiply and grow all over a tree! The handle now glows, very gently, with all of its twisted, knotted, mottled glory. The entirety of her bristles now also glow amber and there are definitely far more "light bristles" than there were original ones. The overall result is just... completely magical! I have to share with Pip - maybe this is a way to keep Pop O'Locks safe in whatever dimensions they exist!

However, reality also came knocking and reminded me that, while flying fast and high in the open sun can be fun, it's also a source of skin burn. Sun burn, wind burn... oof, my skin wasn't happy! It took a couple of days for a lovely brown tan to develop. The colour is reminiscent of smooth tree bark!

During the couple of days that I took it easy, waiting for my skin to recover, MouseEye gave me a note from Pip! I grinned when I saw it, then grimaced when my cheeks pushed their burned selves up, then groaned when the grimace creased those same burnt areas!

Note to Self - I need a salve for this!

But back to the note. I read it and... I learned something new.

My dearest bestest friend Sweet

Your world sounds like a scary place. I can't imagine living through all of the adventures you've shared with me. You are so brave. Sweet the Brave!!!

My life is much quieter than yours, thankfully, but your life sounds more like an adventure book! Mine would be more of a "how to avoid..." I'm more of a hide and run than hide and seek person. :)

I'm happy to hear Pop is doing so well. She is extinct in most dimensions (of the here not here). I'm hoping ours survive - thrive and breed!

How did you learn to write poetry? I love reading yours. 

MouseEye has been visiting often - she does love chocolate chunky chip cookies especially fresh from my oven. LOL. I'm sending some for you too. (If none arrive, you know who swiped them) LOL. 

Love Your best bestie

Pip

 Pip called me adventurous! Me! I had to laugh. No, Pip, I'm not adventurous, but they do seem to find me regardless! And she said she likes my poetry! Well... I'll have to write one. I just need to think what about. Or maybe I can write one about how MouseEye seems to have developed a keen interest in chocolate chunky chip cookies! Apparently Pip sent them with this letter but they didn't arrive. Or... they did but I just never got them!

When I read the bit about the cookies, I looked over the letter at where MouseEye was sitting, looking all cute and innocent. But I think he felt my glare because he opened his eyes, gave a weak smile, belched a chocolate-laden burp, patted his tummy, then closed his eyes again. Little scamp! Cookie thief!

Ah - to heck with it - I can't stay mad at him for long. But I did say I'd appreciate at least one cookie next time. He made a sound back that could have been agreement, or a light snore, or perhaps even something less polite. 

I do remember seeing him eating a cookie in Pip's pocket while I dreamed that night after being under the effects of the mushroom spores. I wonder just how much of that experience was real? I'm guessing more of it than I'd guessed.

Anyway, I was finally feeling good again after recovering from my burn, ready to take on the day, whatever it might bring, embrace the fullness of...

"Somebody's coming down the path."

... the... fullness of... *sigh* ... time to breathe, time to relax, time to trust in myself, whatever may happen, embrace the fullness of the spirit of the cottage and grounds and...

*Knock knock* "Hello? Mistress Sweetwater?"

I opened my eyes when I recognized the voice. Cornelius McTwitter, the physician of High Rannoc, here.

"Mistress?"

But there was something wrong with his voice. It was like he was talking around something. I opened the door as he was starting to turn away. "Ah! Good! Mistress. I'm so glad you're in."

"Doctor", I responded politely. -ish. I mean... he wants to kick me out of my cottage and turn the grounds into some sort of "health resort", whatever that is. 

"I... ah... can I come in?" And then he smiled, revealing a broken tooth. I stepped out of the way and indicated a seat.

"How did your tooth end up broken?"

He gave a wan smile. "It's... there's quite the thing happening in town. Have you heard?"

"Are you referring to the supposed relationship between myself and the mayor?"

"Not exactly that, but that is part of it. High Rannoc is abuzz about the rumoured affair, some defending you, some attacking, and many just listening raptly, soaking up the, and pardon me for saying, entertainment value. Bob was targeted by some people for having sold you that magnificent broom you flew out on the other day. Anyway, things were getting pretty animated, people began grabbing and swinging heavy things, and my tooth and I met one of those heavy things on a backswing. I dosed myself with pain killers and am now here, hoping you can set my tooth aright."

I took a look in the book and there was a recipe for Shattered Tooth. And I had everything in house. I did consider, briefly, going out to collect reagents and letting the doctor sit and stew, but instead I decided to make a potion now. And to ask a few questions while I worked.

"The mayor did mention to me that you are interested in taking the cottage and converting it into some sort of health spot." It was a statement on the surface but a question at its heart.

"When I first was here and you treated me, I must admit that my mind couldn't accept that you'd cured me. And so efficiently and effectively. I blame that on my bias against nature-based medicines, which I was taught in my medical school in Imperial City. "Treat the humours, not the body!" was an oft-repeated asservation."

"A what?"

"A... it was something the instructors would say but never provide evidence that it was correct. We all learned it as more an article of faith than of science."

"And then you came here, and..."

"And you showed me just what a fool I was! You brew a potion and almost instantly the patient is cured. I am aware you helped young Robert, our town's adventurer."

I'd had the Rat Spit on a low boil and added it to the Vampire Venom and Slimeshell (both raw) and now let it sit and cool. "So you don't want to take over here?"

"Goodness, no! I say you should provide your kind of care here in your cottage and I'll provide mine safely behind city walls."

"So why did the mayor say he wants me out and you in here?"

The doctor shook his head. "I don't know. But I'm not interested in displacing you."

I handed over the cup. "You'll want to kick this back in one go. Swirl it in your mouth before you swallow."

He accepted gratefully and did as I asked.

"Look, you are part of the medical... team, if I may be so bold to say. You provide your services and I provide mine and that way High Rannoc citizens can be as healthy as they can be." And then he added, "Oooh... it tingles."

As he opened his mouth, I could see the tooth regenerating. It's one thing to get rid of someone's bad breath with a potion, but it's something else entirely to see a tooth growing. Literally growing.

"I have to ask - are you still trying to get an animated skeleton?"

He grimaced at that one. "No - I've learned my lesson. I have an ordinary skeleton and I point to where I need to direct attention. I figured if you don't need one, neither do I!"

"It should be another few minutes. Try to not rub your tongue over the tooth."

"This is extraordinary. Had someone come to me with a broken tooth, I'd've been pulling it out and perhaps replacing it with some sort of bone. Elephant, perhaps."

I decided to ask one last question before the tooth was fully healed. "Any idea who's helping the rumour along? Is the mayor saying drunken things again?"

Cornelius looked serious this time. "That's... quite a thought... I hadn't considered that there'd be someone adding fuel to the flame, so to speak. I mean, you know the nature of rumours and how they morph and change - enlarge, I suppose, you could say - and that's something I think everyone partakes in. But you're asking about someone being malicious about it. I don't think so. The mayor is saying nothing but looking rather smug, his wife is crying that another woman has led him astray, the teachers and staff are tittering at each other. I just don't know."

"What was that about the mayor's wife?"

"Oh, apparently the mayor's been accused of straying from the marital bed in the past."

"Ah." Something didn't feel right, but I wasn't sure what it was. So I decided to let the doctor know how much he owed (Forty silver! Because it was a harder potion) and move on with the day.

The thought of people getting violent, let alone spreading vicious rumours about me, was uncomfortable. I needed some time away again. Exercise in the bog had been one solution, retail therapy leading to a trip to The Cloud Isles had been another. Today, I wanted to walk among the trees in Glimmerwood Grove. We, MouseEye and I, could spend a day doing it, maybe gathering a thing or two, and maybe... hey! We can visit that elf that MouseEye had found the other day! Fun!

"MouseEye, what do you think about a day trip visit to the elf you visited the other day? Fun, right?"

He just froze and had this... look... that said so much and none of it good. I kept looking at him. He gave me a weak smile back. "Must we?"

"Just out of curiosity, what would cause any concern about visiting the elf? It sounded like he was eager for visitors."

MouseEye's face was frozen. Through closed lips I got a mumbled, noncommittal sound.  

Deep breaths, count to ten, tell myself that some day I'll find the funny in this situation, release. "How about this? If we go visit the elf, do you think we'll be welcomed?"

Another noncommittal sound.

"Ok, great. Well, I'm off. It'd be great if you came along to guide me to the elf, rather than have me wander around trying to find him, but if it's going to be, for whatever reason, impractical for you to accompany me, I fully and non-judgementally understand."

"I guess..."

"I mean, if whatever happened between you and the elf is going to be a hinderance to helping guide me there, then it's completely fine that you not come."

"Yes, I..."

"Because in your telling of the tale, and I am heavily referring to your use of both the words for the long appendage that is part of you and a synonym for a story, you were so amazingly clever that you won the elf's favour."

"Well... I did..."

"So off I go and I won't come home until I've met the elf for myself, if for no other reason than to get his side of the story."

MouseEye just closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then said, "I may have... ummm... overstated... ahhh... the elf's appreciation of my verbal trick."

I crossed my arms. "How overstated?"

"Ummm... he may refer to me as a cheat and a thief."

"So he wasn't amused when you..."

"Ahhh... no."

That cemented my determination. "Great! Then we'll head over there and make amends."

"Must...?"

The "I" petered off. I think MouseEye might have swallowed it.

"Yes. We must. If nothing else, I want to be a good neighbour."

*sigh* "Ok."

And that was that. Off we headed. MouseEye sat on my shoulder the entire way.

The trip was quiet, which suited me just fine. I rehearsed apologies, thought of ways to treat this ancient being that might be appropriate (having no idea of any customs that he might expect me to know, I wondered if I could fake it well enough), and tried to keep issues that might be brought up in mind so that I wouldn't be speechless at any point. It was a lot to think in a short time!

As we got closer to the location of the elf's court, we started to hear a voice, complaining, and apparently in some amount of pain. I sped up, wondering what in the world could be wrong.

The brambles that had obscured the entrance to the courtyard had been ploughed over by something. Certainly something big! And not at all concerned by the prickles of the bushes. I stepped through and a lot more made sense. In the middle of the courtyard laid a sphinx. And not just any sphinx - it was the one I'd encountered a few weeks back. He was bleeding from an open wound in his chest. Kneeling next to him was an elf, speaking softly, tending to him. He glanced up as MouseEye and I strode in, then stood up angrily. 

"I have no time to deal with you, thief. But you are not welcome here. And anyone who accompanies you is equally barred. Begone!"

I glanced at MouseEye sternly. He gave me a helpless shrug back.

"Sir, I'm aware my familiar gave offence earlier and I'm here hoping to heal the rift from that, but I see someone in need of aid. May I be of service?"

He looked at me in annoyance, waved us away, and went back to the sphinx.

Feeling bolder than I had any right to feel, I walked up to the two figures, laid my hand on the sphinx's shoulder, and vowed to return quickly with a healing potion. He thanked me, then said something about never going back, then went back to moaning in pain.

I mentally ran through options for a cure and hit on one - Surgeon Sap. We needed to find a particular tree - a Nurse Willow - and given how thirsty willows can be, I headed towards the boundary between the forest and the bog.

It took a couple of trees to find the right kind and one that had sap congealing on its bark. I gathered a blob then returned to the sphinx.

Re-entering the courtyard, I heard the sphinx breathing easier although the chest wound was still oozing. The elf was chanting something. He looked up and I held up the sap. He nodded for me to approach.

If I'd been at home, I would've heated the sap to allow a portion to be placed, like a poultice, over the wound. Instead, I just had the sphinx swallow the sap whole. It's a little bit sweet so I think that helped it go down.

The wound began to heal as we watched, first drying up, then starting to close. The elf stopped his chant (it was something to ease pain) and the sphinx soon became his healthy self once more.

"I believe I owe you all an explanation.", said the now standing sphinx. "I staggered here from my perch in search of help. You see, I'm a sphinx and by tradition we ask a riddle to anyone who approaches. And by tradition, you can pass if you get the riddle right and you are eaten if you get it wrong. Thanks, however, to the generous nature of the witch before me, I learned that other penalties can be applied, such as the teaching of a new riddle. Which I welcomed because, like I said before, I'm a vegetarian. Anyway, an adventurer approached earlier today. I posed, he answered incorrectly, but instead of teaching me a new riddle, he mocked me! As I began to scold him for his attitude, he stabbed me! He ran off and I made my way here. And thanks to you both, I'm right as rain.

"But I'm never going back to that pedestal. Instead of blocking people from travelling forwards, I'm going to... I'm not sure what."

The noble elf looked thoughtful. "You may reside here with me. I believe we can trade stories for riddles. What say you?"

"Does a bear poop in the woods?"

The elf paused. "And perhaps we can study various forms of riddles and thereby increase your repertoire." He then looked at me. "You, I believe, are Mistress Sweetwater. Your actions were honourable. You are welcome to return here whenever you wish. As for your familiar... I'll consider his debt to me settled once he has told me two stories, not "tales", over the next week."

MouseEye started. "I owed you one!"

The elf answered. "Interest and penalties."

MouseEye shrugged. "Ok. As for the first tale..."

"Let's do this properly. We should sit back, enjoy refreshments, and allow this story to be savoured properly."

I'll say this about what followed - it was an event! MouseEye took centre stage and not only told his stories but acted them out. He did the voices, he brought settings to life, he... let's just say he brought the house down. Twice. And as for the "refreshments" the elf provided... I figured we'd have something refreshing to drink or something like that, but what was served was beyond anything I'd ever had before. Maybe it's because I'd never had Elvish food and this bit of refreshment in the Elvish world was simply that, but I found it simply amazing.

Anyway, whatever bad blood that had existed before was now well and done. Elf and mouse complimented each other, I breathed a sigh of relief, the sphinx trundled off to his new lodgings, and I took that as a cue to excuse myself. All in all, a lovely day.

And it remained lovely despite the fact that somewhere in all this I decided Fen needed a friend. A Princess Toad, to be exact. Why I thought it was a good idea... I don't know! But I did and so off MouseEye and I went in search of one.

We did find Princess Toads. Eventually. There weren't many around and those we did find... well, you can't simply grab them! You have to ask if they'd like to leave their current situation and come join me in mine. To which they all replied, "No, thank you."

You can't argue with that!

We went home, tired but happy. It'd been a busy day. MouseEye settled under the spirit house and I... I was still mentally awake. So I decided to write a response to Pip.

I addressed it To Pip, Here Yet Not Here and sent it From Sweet, Here Yet Not Here

Dear Pip,

Thank you for your kind gift of your chocolate chunk cookies. I'd like to say they were delicious, that they paired nicely with the tea I was drinking. Perhaps MouseEye, when he next sees you, can tell you that they were. Since he's the only one who knows! (The little mischief maker didn't even leave a crumb for me!)

Your cookies may be delightful

And I may be more insightful

Were it not for a mouse

Who lives in my house

Who can apparently eat a plateful!

I think it's funny that you think I'm so adventurous! Not true! But they do have a way of finding me. So rather than me being adventurous, I'd say adventures are Sweet-er-ous!

Pop, by the way, has divided into two! And one of her is now part of the ancient broom I just bought! It's like a holiday-lit broom now!

Your best bestie, 

Sweet 

I figured I'd ask my little half-truth telling, cookie-addicted familiar to deliver it in the morning. But no sooner had I sealed up the letter, I heard a SNAP! That... I'd heard that sound before, during my dream. And the one who'd SNAPped me then had been a small owl...

"Name's Birdie. We needed to talk so here I am. Stay out of my world and I'll stay out of yours. Now give me that note.

"Good talk."

SNAP

And she was gone. What the...? That was... wow. Poor Pip!

I took a second (more like many minutes) to sit and breathe and find my centre again. Then for good measure I went and gave MouseEye a quick peck on the head, and then decided it was time to go to bed.

Also Spring, Week 8 - Vapour Trail

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

 *****

There's a story I heard once, some time ago. It goes like this:

One day, two monks were walking along and came across an old woman who was trying to cross a river. Because the river was wide and flowed quickly, she feared for her safety. The junior of the two monks passed by her and crossed. The elder of the two offered to help. She climbed onto his back and he carried her safely across. Many hours later, the elder noticed the junior had something to say and so asked him what was on his mind. The junior monk confronted the elder, saying, "We are forbidden to consort with women, let alone have any sort of physical contact with them. And yet you allowed that old woman to climb onto your back!". The elder monk replied, "I left her at the river bank, but you have been carrying her with you for hours."

One idea (of the many interpretations possible) is that you act and that once you have, to let it go. It's supposed to remind you to stay in the present moment.

Try as I might, the episode with the mayor is still on my back! It's done, dealt with, over, finished. And, you'd think after everything I'd experienced in Blastfire Bog (which, let's be honest, was incredibly cool! Super strange? Yes. Exhausting? Also yes. But so worth it!), I'd have exorcised the whole thing. But... I hadn't. It was still niggling at me, still occupying my mind, still slung on my back like an involuntary backpack.

I needed to do something that would give me something else to focus on. Business had been good, I had plenty of silver, and so a bit of retail therapy might be the thing. If I couldn't exercise the thoughts away, maybe I could spend them away. Which is why I was on my way to Bits & Bobs. If nothing else, spending some time with Bob would be a lovely thing.

Once in town, I noticed a couple of things. One was that there were more people out and about than I'd seen before. I didn't recognize anyone, not that that was any surprise given how little time I'd spent in the town and how few, relatively, people I'd treated. What was a surprise was how quiet people got when they spotted me. I tried telling myself it was because they were seeing a witch and that it carried some weight. But I didn't believe me.

At Bits & Bobs, Madam Wintergleam was finishing up a transaction, chatting away with Bob. That is up until I entered. Actually - not quite true - it wasn't until she noticed who had entered that her pleasantries quickly petered out. She avoided looking at me, bid Bob a fine day, and left. She didn't even acknowledge my greeting. I decided it was because she hadn't gotten over my quitting her class. I was already carrying the mayor - there was no way I was going to carry more!

I greeted Bob and he returned it, but... it was awkward. There was definitely something going on, Bob definitely knew what, and I was definitely not leaving until I'd found out what it was.

"Bob, originally I came here to do a bit of shopping. But now that I think on it, I'm here for two things: a bit of shopping, and to find out why everyone is acting so weird."

He smiled at me, nearly sincerely, before asking if there was anything in particular I had my eye on.

"Yes. The truth. What's going on?"

He deflated a bit, grimaced, then said, "There's a rumour going around saying that you and the mayor are... um..."

I didn't like where that was going, but I wasn't going to have the rest of the sentence left unsaid. "We're what, Bob?"

He refused to look me in the eye. "An... um... affair. People think you are having an affair with the mayor."

"An affair? Why in the world would anyone think that?"

With the terrible secret rumour no longer secret, he started talking a bit more freely. "The other night. The mayor had had a lot to drink. Before he left The Copper Fox, he announced he was going to your cottage to, as he put it, 'show that upstart of a girl who's in charge of High Rannoc'. And people watched as he staggered towards your place. It was his not returning until late the next morning that the whispers started."

Fury started to burn inside me, but it quickly died out with the memory of that fat, hungover, half-naked man falling awkwardly out of my tree. "Ummm... ok...", I said at first, then tried to say the rest without my laughter interrupting. "Bob, did you and I have an affair when you came to me for help?"

He still looked miserable, still wouldn't meet my gaze. "They're saying you're a home wrecker. He has kids."

"Bob", I repeated, "Did you and I have any sort of inappropriate anything when you came for treatment for your cludgie mouth?"

He mumbled, "no".

"No." Then, after a deep breath, I continued, "I don't know what the mayor was thinking when he was drunk or why he said what he said. I won't talk about anything concerning my patients - any of them", and I looked sharply at Bob, "but please know that nothing inappropriate or unprofessional occurred between he and I."

Bob just nodded, dumbly. 

"I don't know if anyone will believe me and frankly I don't care", which was an obvious lie, but what the heck, "but of all the people in this wretched town who I want to know the truth, it's you."

He gave a little laugh, if a bit forced. "I'm sure this'll just blow over in time. It's just a rumour..."

Yeah, right. There was no way this rumour was going to blow over quickly. Mentally I watched as my reputation, my business, my livelihood, was going to be destroyed by an arrogant drunk. The laughter in my soul tamped down as that scenario played out in my head.

I needed to get out. Quickly. It was too much. Just all too much. But I couldn't get myself to step out the door, let alone walk another gauntlet of unspoken judgemental shame. So I grinned (against everything I was feeling), forced myself to stand up straight, and asked if he had any brooms for sale.

Talking merchandise seemed to put more normalcy back into the room. "Oh sure. All sorts really. Different handle lengths, bristle types, wood choices, colours..."

I interrupted. "Flying ones. Do you have any of those?"

"Ah. Of course. Flying ones. Of course..."

I closed my eyes. "Bob? What is it now?"

He cleared his throat. "Well, uh... I do have one. She's not much, but I..."

"Great. I'll take it."

"Would you like to see it first?"

"Nope. How much is it?"

"It's... uh... would you like a helmet?"

"Nope. How much?"

"Ah... do you need instructions on flying her?"

"No."

"Ah... right. Ok. I'll just package it up for you and..."

"No need. You go get it. I'll leave silver on the counter and meet you out back."

"Ok. Great. I'll..."

"How much silver should be waiting on the counter for you?"

"I... ah... would 100 be asking too much?"

"100 it is. I'll count it out while you get it."

Bob stepped out and I just stood there, shaking. Of all the patients I'd seen, and a few of them had stayed overnight at the cottage while I'd collected reagents, why had this particular patient triggered such a rumour. No doubt his announcement to The Copper Fox patrons has been important - but has that been all? Was it being helped along by someone? And if so, why?

I shook my head to clear it, tried once again to take off the mayoral backpack that had now seemingly fused itself to me, counted the silver onto the counter, and went out the back to see my new purchase. Given Bob's hesitancy, I didn't expect to see much. I wasn't disappointed.

Brooms can come in a variety of shapes and types. Most, of course, don't fly. But of the ones that do, you can't simply look at it to know if it flies. There's a... magical feeling, I guess is what I'm trying to say. And not everyone resonates with every broom. I'll note that I knew none of this before I talked with Bob. MouseEye told me all this after I got home. So while I could've just paid a huge amount of money to sweep my floors, it turns out I lucked out again.

If the land is responsible for my run of luck, it has to be working overtime!

When I first laid eyes on the broom, I instantly saw what Bob saw - an ill-kept, bristle-bare, knotted and mottled handled relic of a prior age. 

"Here it is, Mistress." Bob pointed to it almost apologetically. "I bought it as part of an estate sale, of sorts. I was given an inventory list and, ah... this was listed as a flying broom. I paid top silver for it. Sight unseen, you see. I've just been storing it, not sure what to do with it, and um... I hope you're happy with your purchase. Of course, if it isn't to your satisfaction, I'll give you a full refund."

I heard Bob and I guess on one level I listened, but on another I was connecting to this unsightly thing. But there was more here than met the eye. 

"Of course, it's an older model so doesn't have the lumbar support or the new cushioned memory-bristles that are being produced now. Of course those can go for a lot more than 100 silver, so I hope you feel, after setting eyes on her, it's fair."

Deep within it's twisted handle, arcing from its half-circle burst of bristles (I couldn't identify what they were made of), there was something. Subtle, for sure. But undeniable. She was perfect.

He had it propped up, bristles up, next to the door. "Here, let me get it for you." As Bob reached for it, it shot past his closing hand and landed neatly in mine.

Bob looked over his shoulder at me and the broom that had just come to life. "Oh! I didn't know you're an experienced broom wrangler!"

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. I was deep in the experience of the broom and all that she was. After a few seconds, I released her and had her hold steady for mounting. Now - there's a misconception that all flying brooms are flown by sitting on the handle. Not true! Not only would it be terribly uncomfortable, it'd be absolutely unstable! It'd be so easy to slide off to one side as the broom did a barrel roll the other way! Which is why most brooms have you sit cross-legged on the bristles. I climbed on, kicked off the ground, and launched. My eyes were pointed at the sky - I didn't want to look back and down at High Rumour-ville. 

That load I'd been carrying? Gone. The confusion and hurt from hearing the ridiculous rumour? Disappeared. My anger at it all? Evaporated. Eviscerated. Eliminated. And I was simply elated. It felt so good to be flying again. 

Just for kicks, I flew through a cloud. That feeling of the air whooshing past - what a rush! And the trail I left in the sky, dragging a bit of cloud along! In that moment, I named her: Vapour Trail. 

I was like a kid in a candy shop. No - I was like a dog (one of those breeds that loves water) playing on a riverbank. No - I was like myself lingering in a warm bed on a cool morning. I just loved every minute and I really, really didn't want to stop. So I didn't! I swooped and swerved and dove and climbed - if I could think of it, Vapour Trail could do it.

There was one moment where I did start thinking about a barrel roll and Vapour Trail started rolling! But it was that errant thought that led to an amazing discovery - my butt was held to the bristles like iron to a magnet. I inverted all the way through the roll and, while discombobulating, wasn't fatal. Good to know!

After flying for a few hours, I decided to take the opportunity to land and stretch my legs. Sitting cross-legged is only comfortable for so long! I found an island within the Cloud Isles with a pond and some trees for shade. It was good to lay back on my own private island! And to take a dip (or three!) in my private swimming pool. Aaahhhhh... the world with all its cares and concerns and troubles was down there This place, this peaceful, solitary place, was just lovely. I think if I ever retire from witching, I'll set myself up here.

As good as it all felt - the warm sun, the cool water, the comforting shade - I also wanted to feel the wind and race across the sky and do loop do loops and be silly.

The day was getting on and I was getting tired, but I also wanted to check out one last place. I'd spotted an island that sported a large cave - the mouth of which was so big I could fly into it. I couldn't resist!

I flew more cautiously as I entered the cave. It was a little tight, but totally workable. With the discovery, I found myself wondering if I'd ever walk anywhere ever again!

Looking at the textures within the cave walls was like looking at clouds and seeing different shapes and things. Here a wing, there a serpentine body, over there a giant closed eye. It was fun letting my imagination run free!

And then my imagination started working overtime, seeing myself as I flew hither and yon with kids coming out from houses and buildings, pointing up at me as I came to visit. It felt so good, so affirming as the local witch.

A sound, I suppose what I imagined the kids would sound like, escaped through my lips. And it echoed. What fun! Echoes! And so I let loose with a little bit of nonsensical song and played with the sound bouncing back. The roar that followed wasn't expected. Nor the two eyes that opened deeper in the cave. It was then that I realized the winged snake shape I'd disregarded was: one - not part of the cave but instead lived in it, and two - it was a wyvern.

There was a part of me, for a quick second, that tried discerning whether the creature in front of me was a wyvern or a dragon. That small part stopped its zoological classification and instead decided to table the discussion for later.

The wyvern made to launch at me and I found myself drifting backwards. I didn't know the broom came with reverse but I'm glad it did!

I got clear of the cave mouth then shot off, hoping the wyvern would either lose interest (with me now being gone) or would lose sight of me and break off its pursuit. Neither happened.

All the practice I'd gotten in was paying dividends. I wasn't losing it, but I wasn't being snatched out of the sky and turned into wyvern food. Every move I tried it responded to. Each attempt to out race, out spin, or out roll it didn't work. It nearly got me time and again. I didn't dare stop, didn't dare land and hide, didn't dare do anything. I couldn't lose it in the cloud or two that was up here. I needed a plan.

And then I spotted my chance. Laughing out loud with fear and hope, I knew it was a desperate move, but I had nothing left. I flew into a canyon of sorts being formed as two big islands drifted close to each other. It narrowed so much that it could fit me but couldn't accommodate the wyvern's wingspan - it had to maneuver itself to keep from being crushed. After shooting through the gap, I dashed for a nearby forested hiding spot and hunkered down.

They wyvern wasn't ready to give up, instead flying all around the canyon I'd exited, plus the islands surrounding it (including my current hiding spot). It wasn't until well after sundown that it finally relented and left.

After all the excitement, you'd think I'd've made my way home. And you'd be right. To a point. You see, as I started my way back (or what I assumed was the way back), I spotted blue-green light coming from a height and I just had to check it out.

There are two things I learned: one - there is a lighthouse on top of Moonbreaker Mountain, and two - it emits the most beautiful... it's not quite light, but also not quite water. When I told MouseEye about it later, he said it's called plasma. I called it fun! I could fly through it and have trails of it swirl in my wake. I must've done that for... well... I lost track of time. Maybe it wasn't that long but it felt like I spent all night playing.

It was still night, however, when I got my bearings and finally headed home. I landed, stretched, yawned. Spent though I was, my spirit was still riding a high. I dragged my aching body into the cottage, broom in tow. 

The welcome glow of Pop helped settle me. I was back in my home, my space, my safe space. I breathed a sigh of relief. MouseEye looked up from his place inside the spirit house. "I see you bought a broom. And I'm guessing you went up to the Cloud Isles. What'd you do up there?"

A mischievous grin crossed my face. "You want me to tell you about my adventures today?"

MouseEye closed his eyes, knowing full well what was coming, but still played along. "Yes. Tell me about your adventures today. What did you do? Tell me everything."

Without giving the necessary pause to give the answer the punch it deserves, I jumped in with, "Must I?"

Smiling at each other, sharing in the joke, we laughed. And then we watched, each from our own vantage point, as Pop began to change in hue, in intensity, in colour. She began to expand at the middle and dip at the poles, and then, suddenly, she divided into two Pops. Each the same size as the other, floating side by side, indistinguishable. Then one of them floated over to the broom and attached itself to the end of the handle, making a running light of sorts.

MouseEye's and my gaze met again and with a mutual shrug of incomprehension, we wondered what else this night would bring.