I found myself wondering, once again, if I'd made a foolish choice in staying in the witch's cottage. It had been more than a week already and I could feel my uncertainty filling the future. Did I really want those feelings of being someone apart from the rest of humanity? Yes, the cottage and grounds are peaceful, but at some point we all want companionship.
Unwilling mouse-y familiars don't count.
Nor do grumpy disbelievers in my ability to help them through their various ills and ailments.
Nor do... *sigh*... I guess I'm just feeling sorry for myself.
Who am I kidding - stepping into the role of local witch without having a clear idea of what I'm doing. Let's face it - I'm making it up as I go along. *Ugh!*
Maybe I need a hobby. Like taking care of things here isn't enough.
Maybe I...
"Hi. You busy?"
MouseEye. He tries, I think. Maybe my expectations, my hopes, and my dreams are just getting in the way. Maybe if I...
He jumped onto my shoulder then tapped on the side of my head. "Hello! Is anyone home?"
Somewhere in there I should have counted to ten before answering but I didn't give myself that space. So a bit more sharply than I should've, I answered. "Yes? What is it? What's so important?"
He twitched his whiskers. He was irritated too. And I was probably the cause. *ugh* But kudos to him - he swallowed a sarcastic comeback and got to the important thing he wanted to bring up. "Something we've never discussed is what I should call you."
And he was right. I'd never thought of telling him my name. "Oh! Well, it's..."
He quickly interrupted. "Not your real name. Real names have power. If someone knows your real name, they can have power over you. "Witch" is your job, your title, but won't suffice as a name. Is there a name that speaks to you, that you can call yourself, and that others can use?"
I'd never given it much thought. Any thought, really. A name not my own that I'd make mine. It was a new and novel concept, one that was just so foreign. I wonder how someone goes about doing something like that. Would I need another trip to the Glimmerwood Grove to ask for one? Would I have received one at the school, if I hadn't left, that is. Maybe...
"You have five minutes. So just ask yourself and find yourself a name."
"I what? Why...? Five minutes before what?"
"Four minutes."
"I...!"
Mental turmoil galore! But within all that, all the confusion and the unknown and a demanding mouse and an uncertain future and a past rapidly receding and choices becoming more and more permanent... I heard myself use a name. Mistress Sweetwater.
"Three minutes."
"Mistress Sweetwater!", I shouted.
He paused, then murmured, "Mistress Sweetwater. Madame Sweetwater. Mother Sweetwater. Granny Sweetwater. Yup - all sounds good. It works, Mistress Sweetwater."
And that was that. I had a new name. And never would I use the old one again.
So... if I had a new name, did that mean... "MouseEye? What's your real name?"
And he just looked at me. "I'm here to help you, to the degree that I want and can do. Telling you my real name isn't part of the deal.
"Oh - and the rush is because someone is coming down the path."
And with that, there was a voice calling from outside the cottage. "Hello? Miss New Witch? I require help!" and then she knocked on the door.
I flashed a look at MouseEye. "You could've told me she was coming!", I hissed.
"I did. With five minutes to spare."
As I reached for the door handle, MouseEye said, "Smile!"
Grrrr... but I did smile as I opened the door. Or at least I tried. Not that she noticed - she barged through the door and past me.
"Where's your mistress, girl? Don't just stand there - I'm in a hurry and my time is invaluable."
My smile became more strained. "I'm Mistress Sweetwater, the new witch. How can I help you?"
She turned and looked at me. "No, girl, you misunderstand. My maid, Francie, said that you are the domestic here. I'm looking for the new witch what cured the miller's boy of his warty lips."
Ah. Well that helps explain things. "I cured him."
She just stared at me. Then, "Well? Are you going to help me or must I go elsewhere for help?"
That smile was now very forced. "I'd love to help you, Madame...?"
Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Hightower. Madame Hightower. As everyone in this part of the world knows. Or should know. Now - you will help me."
This was too much. "Certainly, Madame." I probably added too much obvious snark into that "Madame". "If only you'd tell me what your affliction is."
"Hmph! Should have known a little slip of a girl wouldn't know her stuff. If you were worth anything, you'd know just from my visage."
Her visage? Her face. Something amiss on this horrible person's face. A cursory look didn't reveal anything. "What...?"
"Oh for heavens sake! This! Right here! As clear as the nose on your face!"
She was pointing at her nose. I took a closer look and saw a tiny wart.
"Have you tried kissing frogs?", I asked.
Her eyes blazed. "The effrontery of such a question! No, I haven't been kissing frogs. Nor rubbing them on my nose. It just appeared, marring my flawless complexion, and I'm to hose a small gathering of close acquaintances in a few days. What am I do do?"
Her angry facade gave way to anguish. Angruish, to coin a term. Frankly, I didn't see what the big deal was.
"And of course I will pay handsomely for a cure."
Well - there was my motivation. Not a great one, but the coin would help smooth my trampled feelings. "Ok. I'll get to work on a cure. You can go home and I'll..."
"Absolutely not!" The imperious bitch re-emerged. "I'll stay here, thank you very much, and ensure that you effect a cure post haste."
Um... ah...
"I will sleep on this bed and stay here until I am cured and ca face society again."
Will you now? Fine. Then I think I'll take my time in making this potion. But first I need a diagnosis. And for that, I need to know...
"Is it only the rhino-wart? Or are there others?"
"A rhino-sized wart!?! How dare you! I...!!!"
"The 'rhino-' refers to the nose. I was asking if you have any other warts besides the one on your nose."
That seemed to mollify her a bit.
"Ah. I see. A medical term. Frankly, you surprised me. But - no. No other warts."
I turned to the book. MouseEye was there, out of sight from Madame Hightower. Quickly we identified her affliction: Toad Nose.
As we worked through the needed reagents, I found myself asking myself if there was something going on in the vicinity. First frog warts and now toad warts? Strange.
I turned back to my impatient patient. "I need to gather reagents. Please stay here - where I need to go is very dangerous. But I will return with the ingredients needed to cure you."
"You are certain you can eliminate my disfiguration?"
"Yes. And in time for your party. But please be patient in the meantime." And with that, I gathered my things and headed out.
Our first stop: Meltwater Loch.
As we made our way to the Loch and gathering, not just what we needed for treating my newest patient (who was helping me realize the connection between "patient" and "patience" - the one I needed more of and the other... I also needed more of. The first will come in time, if I continue to do a good job, but the other was all up to me. And regardless of anything else, that is surely not a subject covered in that school.
Nope! this is something that requires experiences and none were to be had behind a desk, playing at potion making, whereas here I am, tromping around on a warm Spring day, on my way to gather this and that at the Loch. Oh if only my family could see me now, going from no prospects in the far off woods to being someone counted upon, someone respected, someone...
"Hey! What's that?"
What's what? I looked around to see where we were. We'd just come out onto a beach. "Where are you looking, MouseEye?"
"Right in front of you. In the sand."
Sometime, and hopefully some time soon, I'll learn to pay attention to where I am, to where I'm going, and to the very large tracks that look like a massive dog walked into the water. My first thought was gratitude for not meeting whatever it was that made those tracks. My next thought of gratitude is that they went down the beach and into the water. Had they been pointed the other way, I would have been scared of it wanting to go back into the Loch but stopping for a small witch lunch first.
I ventured, "A dog?"
MouseEye looked at me. "That big?"
"A large dogfish?"
We both stared at the tracks for a minute. Then I said, "What do you think the chances are that it's alone. You know - no mate, no little large dogfish?"
We both listened intently. A gentle lapping of surf, insects buzzing, birds chirping, the safe sounds of a beach were all we heard. Certainly no crashing through foliage, no loud breath bubbles in the water, no signs anything would give us grief. That was a relief.
Despite the feeling that we were safe, I still had MouseEye keep lookout. After all, he says he's good at watching. So - watch out for danger! He took up position on a cliff edge while I started gathering reagents.
First up - Smooth Croak. It was an amazing ingredient last time so I went with it again. Besides, finding the frogs, so iridescently colourful, was most of the joy in gathering it. Collecting the mucous that coats those beautiful skins was less so.
And that was all I needed from here. But since I was determined to take my own sweet time with the cure, I also gathered some extra things. Like wigfish. How can you not grab the seaweed wigs the fish put on their heads when they just parade back and forth in the water, desperate for attention? Although it's possible they were hoping I'd be some sort of beauty judge.
The reason I'm only half-kidding about the beauty show judge thing is that they, each of them, emerged from behind a grove of deep reed. After I'd taken a wig, the fish disappeared, leaving me free to harvest a branch or two of the reeds.
As I prepared to gather up some gas weed (which had floated up to the surface from the depths) and also slime shell (because apparently I hadn't gotten my hands on enough slimy stuff after gathering the smooth croak), I called up to MouseEye to check out Gimmerwood Grove before we headed that way together. After getting through the seemingly required "Must I?", I set to collecting the last reagents.
While I waited for the all clear, I decided to dry off and warm up by lying on the beach and soaking up the sun.
I found myself, besides keeping an ear out for giant dogfish, staring up at the clouds. They were all puffy and white. What would it be like to fly up there? Wouldn't it be the same feeling of cold and wet like what happens when it's foggy? Would they be more solid? Could you turn clouds into thread and then into fabric? Imagine a set of clothes made from cloud cloth! Would they be light as air? Could I maybe one day fly to them? Or maybe I could just climb Moonbreaker Mountain and do it that way. I could maybe...
"Good morning, sleepy head." And then a pressure landed on my chest. Opening my eyes, there was an impudent mouse staring at me.
I tried to speak but between the sun, the sand, and my mouth being wide open while I napped, all I had was cotton in my mouth. And not cottony-soft cloud - nope - this was full-on cotton sand, the ultimate drying agent.
After taking some refreshing gulps of Loch water, I was finally able to ask about Glimmerwood Grove. "It's all good. And there's a group that wants to play a friendly game with you."
I should have asked who the group was and what game they wanted to play, but I figured I'd find out in a little bit anyway.
Reminder to self - ask the questions beforehand.
When we got to the Grove, there was indeed a group who challenged me to a game. Caber toss. Thankfully, the group was a group of pixies. If it'd been trolls, or really anything much bigger than me, I'd have lost of a certainty.
As we set up for the game - getting the "log" (much more like a large stick) ready for tossing - the pixies started taunting me. It was good-natured, but they insisted that there be a small wager on the outcome. They said that the old witch would routinely lose and that she'd pay off her debt with a fresh reagent. They also let me know that if I refused to give a reagent, they'd lay a curse on me! There was at least one pixie who really wanted to practice their curse-craft.
Inspired by their attitude, especially the expectation I'd throw the game, I threw the caber farther than I ever would've dreamed I could. Pixie jaws dropped.
"I suppose you won fair and square. Although I wonder why - the old witch supported us with fresh reagents and needed an excuse so she'd lose at the caber toss. Ah well..." And they turned to go.
"Ahem. Aren't you forgetting something?" I wondered if I crossed my arms, tapped my feet, or pursed my lips, if I'd look more imposing.
One of the pixies reluctantly reached into a pouch. "Fair's fair. I suppose." And with that, he handed me ten silver. And then they left in a huff.
After they'd gone, I looked for MouseEye. "Pixies? Caber toss? Are you kidding me?" I must admit I got pretty shrill.
"Granted, ok. But ten silver is nothing to sneeze at. And did you know the old witch was a pixie caber toss team supporter? That's something. So all in all, it all worked out. Thanks to me. And your bulging biceps, of course."
We both knew that I don't really have biceps, let alone ones that bulge. My dad? Arms bigger than my whole body. Me? Thin as reeds.
"Come on. Let's get to work. These things won't gather themselves."
After walking a bit, we started hearing singing. Unearthly singing. God-awful unearthly singing. Drunk fairies. If you've never heard drunk fairies before, they're just like regular fairies but using dirty lyrics, out-of-tune melodies, and harmonies that can knock birds unconcsious.
I think I heard this one:
There once was a man from Glasnee
Who's prick was the size of a flea
You'd think never under heaven
That it could plant a bun in the oven
Yet it just made wee bairn number twenty-three
Yup, drunk fairies.
The thing about drunk fairies is you can pretend to be just about anything and they'll believe it. For instance, this is how our little conversation went:
"Hey! Who're you?"
"I'm a Fairy Good Witch here to harvest some songberries because they're so ripe and sweet."
"Oh, aye. I recognize you! Sure, go ahead."
While I picked a few, I couldn't help but notice some rats in cages off to the side. I had to ask. "What are you doing with the rats?"
"Training them! Fastest rats you'll ever see!"
"May I have some of their spit?" Rat spit is fantastic for teeth.
"Um... sure... but it won't make you any faster."
"I'm sure that's ok."
A small vial of rat spit later and I was ready to head home and on to kicking someone out of the cottage.
Home. Did I just call the cottage "home"? I guess I did. So I guess it's time to start treating it not as a guest would but as an owner would. And hopefully the old witch, when she returns, will appreciate my efforts.
It was with that in mind that I headed back. Yes, I'd shown her that I wouldn't be rushed but I was tired, hungry, and so ready for a bath and bed. But first, a potion.
As I approached the cottage, Francie yelled out to me from the wood chopping block. "Hello, Mistress! O, my lady will be so happy to see you back! How was your adventures of getting your things? Why didn't you tell me that you're really a witch? Why would someone who's so clearly skilled need lessons in healing the misfortunes of others? Oh! I should alert my lady you're back!"
Was I gone for so long that Madame Hightower needed her maid? Ok - yeah. Probably. So that's two people who can vacate as soon as I've got the potion prepared.
I entered the cottage - my cottage, I amended - and was met with the expected imperious demands. "Where have you been? Did you want me to die of exposure and starvation? I had to bring Francie here to keep me safe and sound. And what have you done? Nothing! Except, perhaps, gather things."
Something in there brought me up short. "I asked you to wait at home You refused. But you went back home to bring your servant here?"
"Well, of course! I couldn't leave you to your own devices without my supervision and yet I needed someone to take care of all the little duties while you were away."
I decided not to press it. Instead, I asked Francie to get the fire stoked.
"You will not give directions to my servant, young lady! If you have need of something, I expect you to do it. It's what I'm paying for, after all."
Sealing my lips so tight that they must have turned a blinding white. I got the fire up to boil the smooth croak mucous. As it boiled, I crushed the songberries and let them sit in the mortar - I figured letting the air into the juice would enhance its sweetness.
It felt like it took forever, what with scowls from one and poorly-contained excitement from the other, but eventually I'd poured the two together and thus finalized the potion.
Madame Hightower held her nose as she started to drink, but then eagerly downed the rest. The songberries really were quite sweet.
After she'd downed the last of it, she sat down heavily onto my bed. She looked dazed.
Yeah - I was worried something had gone wrong and was getting ready to do... I really don't know what I would've done. But she looked at me and for the first time since arriving, was actually nice.
"You make a wonderfully tasting healing concoction, Mistress Sweetwater. My thanks to you. I believe this is your going rate, plus let me add a bit extra for the delightful taste." Twenty-four silver! Isn't that lovely. But isn't it really lovely just how she changed. Those songberries and its mood-enhancing properties - golden.
Francie then rushed to her mistress' side. "My lady! Your wart is gone!"
The lady looked at her maid. "I have no doubt this lovely new witch achieved a cure."
As she and Francie made their way out the door, Madame Hightower looked back at me. "At the party I'll be hosting, I expect Mrs. Ruffage, the head mistress of the herbology school, will be there. I believe she's the old witch's cousin. I'll be sure to put in a good word. I'm sure she'll be pleased to hear that you are filling in so ably. Good day to you."
And that was that. No invitation, though. Although, to be honest, I would have declined. Still, it would've been nice to have been asked.
After the ladies had left, I finally turned to MouseEye. "Well, we're home. Our home." MouseEye just curled up near the fire. "Mmmhmmm. That's nice." Then mouse-y snores quickly followed.
You know what? Food and bath can wait. I laid down on the bed without bothering to undress first. That's something you can do in your own home.
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