Spring, Week 3 - Bob's Cludgie Mouth

Here's a link to the video about how I put this episode together (and narrate it too):

 This is the life. When I think about how hard my father had to work - cutting down trees, processing them into transportable logs, and then getting them to the sawmill - so much time and effort for so little return, both in terms of money and respect. And yet here I am, comfortably set up in this lovely cottage, supported by people who, by the way things have gone so far, get warts on various pats of their bodies, and pay handsomely to have them removed.

I don't think my father, when he sent me off to school, would ever have expected me to find such an easy and lucrative place. And I didn't even have to attend that silly school.

It just can't get much better than this!

Although, now that I think on it, there's one thing that would improve the day - a small sampling of the honey I know is inside the bee hive. Which is why I walked over to the hive, all busy and buzzing with activity, with a small spoon, ready to taste that golden sweetness. My mind wandered to the contents of the hive, then to how my mouth would delight in the thick and rich flavour, the product of so much effort. And all mine.

The bees saw me coming and I think were prepping up a droplet or five - enough so I would know if it was sweet enough, rich enough, delicious enough. I couldn't wait!

But I would have to wait because something happened. I think the wind shifted. But it wasn't the wind itself that put a delay on my delight, but rather the smell on the wind was enough to cause anyone to pause. It smelled like a midden. But a midden that had clogged due to some large thing that had died and was slowly blocking the flow, meanwhile rotting slowly away. It... oh whatever it was, it was bad. So so bad. And not stopping.

MouseEye emerged from somewhere close and ran up my pants leg, then up my shirt sleeve, and up onto my shoulder. Before he spoke, I could feel the disapproval of my "wasting" a spot of honey for my personal gratification. "I assume your nose is working? Whoosh!"

I nodded. "Do you suppose the town will get that fixed soon? It's unbearable!"

"I don't know." 

At first I thought he was answering about the High Rannoc midden (maybe called Low Rannoc?) being fixed. But then when the wind shifted again but the smell didn't, I wondered if he was thinking it wasn't coming from the town at all.

"MouseEye, can you check to see if this stink is coming from the town?"

A pause, then, "Must I?"

I was just about to say yes when I spied someone approaching the cottage. "No, MouseEye. I think the source of the foul air has just arrived for help." I tucked my spoon into my pocket and headed back.

As I got closer, I saw it was none other than Bob. What in the world had he done to have this happen?

He saw me coming and, kind soul that he is, tested the wind to get himself downwind yet still within shouting distance. He looked abashed. "My apologies, Mistress. I'm afraid I've been cursed." He was half-gagging as he yelled that to me.

I asked MouseEye to spare Bob and I from shouting to each other. But, of course, MouseEye was nowhere to be found. Typical.

"What happened?"

As Bob answered, I swear the air around him turned an unhealthy shade of green. "Business deal went sour. A bog goblin swore he'd found something amazing and wanted me to buy it. Fentoad Scurf. The thing about it is that it goes bad really quickly. You need to harvest from living fentoads at your workbench. So what the goblin brought me was useless and not worth a thing. The goblin wasn't happy that I wouldn't buy so he cursed me."

Oh boy did he ever. At least the diagnosis was easy. The potion was going to be a bit trickier than what I'd made before - the curse wasn't difficult to deal with but the infection part was going to be a challenge. But no matter - I'd have Bob right as rain in no time. And I told him that.

"Gods I hope so. I know the reek isn't good where you are, but from where I'm sitting? It's wretched! And I've got to keep my shop closed until I can wait on customers again."

I gathered my things, bid him farewell (he insisted on staying in my cottage so's to not offend the townspeople with his breath. I wasn't happy that my cottage would probably forever smell of bog goblin, but I kept my mouth shut), and headed off. To Hero's Hollow.

So... not that I'm complaining, but Hero's Hollow isn't my favourite place. For one, it's hollow. For two, I'm no hero. However, needs be that I go there so needs be that I go there.

At the very least, I now know where the walk-in entrance is. The falling-in entrance is also known! (And very much not preferred).

My goal - my focus - was on the infection. After all that I'd collected ahead of time, I hadn't gotten an infection reagent yet (and I figured while I was out, I'd pick up a fresh curse reagent as well). And so I was on the lookout for Silverleaf. The difficulty with Silverleaf is that it's sharp, clings to the sides of caverns and tunnel walls, and only grows in the dark. It's easy to cut yourself if you aren't careful. However, it is easier if you have a mouse who loves to watch things. He spotted it without much difficulty.

And that's where things went from going well to absolute disaster. And in the end it was my fault but I was so absolutely certain I was right, I just wouldn't listen.

I'd gotten it into my head that I needed Liquid Fire. It's not easy to find and dangerous if you're not prepared - note the "Fire" part of all that - but I was convinced it needed to be mixed into the potion. MouseEye disagreed with me. And so we got into a bit of an argument. Yes, it's every bit as silly as it sounds - there I was, arguing with a mouse who claimed that, not only was I in the wrong, but arrogantly so (with obvious references to my near-wasting a dose of honey), in a dark tunnel not far from where I'd been accidentally temporarily imprisoned a couple of weeks prior.

I said a couple of very not nice things, including his disappearing when things got tough. Not only not nice - they were unfair. I know that now. Heck - I knew it then too, but I was so... full of myself. Frankly, I didn't recognize myself, looking back. Definitely not my finest moment.

And then it got worse. Oh so much worse. I said that maybe I should send him back to wherever familiars come from and get one that was truly useful. MouseEye, stunned, just murmured, "I suppose you should". And then disappeared. No flash, no sound. Just one second there and the next, not. Except for a single tear that glowed faintly blue in the dark and slowly faded away.

I... I was a mess. But a mess who choked back her tears and focused, once again, on gathering Liquid Fire. 

Note to self - don't try to gather Liquid Fire when you're a mess. You'll just make a mess of it.

I wandered around the tunnels, doing my best to find the blasted Fire. Nope, nope, and nope. I think I actually screamed in frustration.

Another note to self - when you scream in dark, creepy places, you may attract unwanted attention to yourself.

I got lucky - it wasn't unwanted attention. It was more... unhelpful. At first.

After I screamed, I stood stark still as it echoed along passages dark and grim. Yes - I said "dark and grim". I'm trying to be more poetic. I wasn't thinking "dark and grim" at the time. My thoughts were more like "stupid, stupid, stupid!". Especially when I heard footsteps. And they got closer. And closer still.

While it sounded like a small army coming at me, what I saw was a chest - a wooded chest - moving towards me. When it got close enough, I could see what must have been a hundred little legs underneath the "body". It was weird. It was strange. It was what an enthusiastic dog would be if it were a piece of furniture. An enthusiastic dog that really wanted a treat. It begged. It whined. It stood up on... more than two legs while all the rest waved ineffectually in the air. I... I had no idea what to do. And my super-able translator had just buggered off.

Drat.

I patted my pockets to show that I had nothing to offer. No treats to be had here. See? I'm patting my pockets and finding... something. What the...?

Why is there Smooth Croak in my pocket? Why is there...?

The walking box nuzzled my pocket. Yes - that one.

It? He? enjoyed the treat. I guess. And then it kind of crouched down, opened its lid, and let me peer in.

I tried to look without getting too close but it just wasn't possible to look effectively without sticking my head in. So... I looked.

Do you remember that I was feeling incredibly stupid? Yeah - looking back, this was another example. Yes, there was something in there. Yes, I was curious. Yes, I might've been swallowed and that would've been it.

It turns out, there was something the chest wanted but couldn't make happen on its own. There were little knitted socks in the chest. About one hundred of them. I know because I put booties onto each of the chest's feet. All of them. The end ones were ok, but the middle ones were harder. And most of the feet were in the middle.

Once I was done, it padded off. And I was running out of time. I knew Bob wouldn't wait forever.

As the chest padded off, I yelled out that I needed to find Liquid Fire. It stopped, managed to look over its shoulder, then... I guess beckoned is the best word... and off it led directly to Liquid Fire.

I was excited, tired, mourning MouseEye, definitely not at my best. I managed to nearly hurt myself repeatedly (my clothes are going to need extensive mending and my shoes are now more like open-toed sandals) but I finally managed to collect some. Finally! And as I mentally reviewed the benefits, I realized MouseEye had been absolutely right. I didn't need this. Hadn't needed it. Had just wasted time and energy gathering this.

I wanted to cry. So I did. The chest wandered off.

I sat, absorbed in misery. I needed Old Blood - really needed it. And had no idea how to... wait... that cell I'd fallen into. Wasn't there manacles on the wall? And where there's manacles, maybe there's struggle to escape. Maybe there was violence and spilled blood and maybe maybe maybe there's harvestable blood.

I set off at a run. Not so fast that I'd hurt myself if I banged into anything but fast enough that I could feel air streaming past my face.

I didn't make it to the cells. I didn't need to. On my way there I passed by where I'd found the Silverleaf. Had someone been extraordinarily unlucky with their harvest? Maybe sliced through an artery?

It wasn't as if I was hoping someone would hurt themselves! I was hoping someone had hurt themselves.

I found what I was looking for. Tucked away in a large crevice was the remains of someone. And there were blood scrapings aplenty.

I raced home, hoping I was in time, that Bob hadn't left yet.

He hadn't. But he wasn't happy at all that I'd taken as long as I had. I think. Actually, now that I'm going over what did happen, I think I was so embarrassed from the time I knew I'd wasted that I blew right by him (and, frankly, the smell encouraged my speeding by) so that I didn't take the time to let him know that everything was going to be ok. And soon.

As I was stoking the fire, I looked up to see Bob throw up his hands in frustration and start to leave! There was no way I was going to let him go after everything I'd been through! So I had to dash out and stop him. But first I had to catch my breath and that wasn't easy since in catching my breath I caught big draughts of his.

"Bob! Sir! Please - I've got everything I need to brew up the potion. I need just a bit more time to get things prepped and mixed. Please - don't go." I think I half-wailed.

He stood there for a minute, then, "I thought maybe things weren't going well. You weren't giving me the time of day. Anyway, I'll settle back into a chair and wait for your cure."

While there were bunches of things I wanted to say, I only got out, "Thank you!", before dashing back to the cottage. Ok - not quite true. I started to dash but then Bob yelled out, "I'm not going anywhere so just slow down and make the potion you know you can make. If you hurry, I could end up with no voice! Or the face of a chicken! Or I could be stuck with bog goblin breath for the rest of my days!"

I did end up dashing into the cottage, but before I set to (re-)starting my preparations again, I went to the little... house, I guess... on the mantlepiece, closed my eyes, and just forced myself to breathe. And I counted them. All ten.

Feeling much better from that pause (and better able to concentrate), I got back to my work. I got the fire stoked and began boiling the Old Blood (it reeked almost as bad as Bob's breath). While that was going, I crushed up the Silverleaf. As I worked it into a powder, my mind drifted back to Hero's Hollow, the endless dark of the dungeon, and MouseEye.

That I found MouseEye frustratingly... obstinate? secretive? puzzling? How...?

The Silverleaf was approaching dust levels. Crushed far more than I'd intended.

Before the potion could be completed, I had one last ingredient to grab - honey - to counteract the bit of poison in the Old Blood would introduce.

The spoon was still in my pocket. I pulled it out as I headed for the hive. The buzzing swelled as I approached. I hadn't figured out how to retrieve the honey. Something else needing solving. *sigh* But this time I was going to do things properly. I stood in front of the hive and asked for a dose of honey. And held out the spoon in case they didn't understand me.

Several bees began to fly circles around the base of the hive. I held my spoon under where they were flying. A small drizzle of honey dripped into my spoon. Holding it carefully, I thanked the bees, then headed back.

The last step was combining all the ingredients together. A bit of mixing over low heat (so the honey would melt throughout) and it was done. I walked it out to Bob.

He accepted it and drank it down. And in minutes his breath was as fresh as honey can make it.

And then, instead of reaching into his pocket or otherwise making haste back to High Rannoc, he just set the cup down, looked thoughtful for a minute, then began to speak. "You, little miss, and begging your pardon I mean no offence, are young. You have a gift, no doubt, an ability to heal the body. But dealing with people is more than the physical - it's about compassion. When you came to my shop that first time, I served you and your desires to view my stock for a fair bit of time. I never once complained about what I knew was going to be my very cold lunch, or my aching feet. It's something I learned when I sat with my grandfather as he ran the shop and when I clerked in the back for my father. It's something for you to learn now. It's more important, in many ways, to let people know what's going on, keep up their spirits, that sort of thing.

"Maybe you need a hobby that will help you be more peaceful. I know the old witch got into knitting baby booties. Really got into it. Bought way more yarn than ever she made into the town's babies! I know that. Maybe you should try your hand at something like that.

"I do see that you're far more calm now than you were when you first got back from your foraging hunt. Think on what I said. It's a manner that's served my family for generations and I hope will serve you well as well.

"And now I should pay you, get out of your hair, and get my shop aired out for opening tomorrow."

The twenty silver clinked into my hand but it felt like his words were worth far more.

He waved as he stepped out of view. And I... I wandered back to the cottage. And to the spirit house on the mantlepiece. The house's house. It still wasn't much more than a small bowl of water, a candle, the Star Shard, and a few wildflower blossoms, but it represented more than what the parts were.

Not a great explanation, but it's the best I can manage right now. It certainly wasn't perfect. It just wasn't... perfect. And I certainly wasn't perfect. Oh no! Not perfect at all. But I was doing the best I could. Not perfect but doing my best. That's me.

And this place. Not perfect but doing its best.

And the bees. Not perfect but doing their best.

And... MouseEye. Not perfect but doing his best.

And... I wasn't allowing him to be imperfect. His imperfect. Maybe it's frustrating to me that his imperfections are so frustratingly frustrating to me, but...

I'm sorry. I'm sorry for how I behaved. I didn't treat Bob well, didn't treat myself well, and didn't treat MouseEye well. I said it to myself, to the house, to the house's house, and to MouseEye wherever he was.

And then I chuckled to myself. Wherever he is? I can probably guess. I looked up at the mantlepiece again. Water, candle, Star Shard, two eyes amongst a few wildflower blossoms. 

I reached over to where his little mouse head should be and gave it some gentle pets. "You know, MouseEye, I've spent my last two weeks wandering around, going to town, exploring here and there. But I haven't spent any time at all talking with you, sharing thoughts and ideas. So, if it's ok with you, I'd like to stay here, walk the property a bit, but most of all get to know you better. What do you think about that?"

With a mischievous grin, all he said was, "Must I?" 

Also Spring, Week 2 - A Madcap Meeting

Here's a link to the video about how I wrote this episode (and narrate it too!):

 Home. That is what I call the cottage and grounds. It'd been only a week and a bit but everything felt like it was mine: both my property but also my responsibility to care for, maintain, and even improve. No feelings of being a guest anymore, and certainly not of being a trespasser or interloper. 

Maybe I'd proved something to the house. Or maybe it was my intention to stay and care for, not just the property, but for the people and creatures who might come to me for help.

I had stepped fully into being The Witch.

There's a change in perspective when you go from being a guest to being an owner. Things that you accepted as being "just the way it is" turns into things you can change.

But I also wanted to start small. Allowing my thoughts to imagine changes throughout the grounds was just too much to consider all at once. The cottage needed a deep clean, the garden beds needed clearing of brambles, places where there had been additions and out-buildings needed rejuvenation - there was a lot that an owner should want to fix and improve.

Getting back to small starts, I decided that the first thing that needed doing was planting something in the one cleared garden plot. Everything else could wait.

But what to plant. In the old witch's notes, it said I could plant anything in it and it'd be a happy and healthy plant. Which is why I laid out my existing ingredients to see what would best go in the ground.

I had quite the assortment. From Glimmerwood Grove: Wild Rose, Coffee Cap, Songberries. From Meltwater Loch: Deep Reed, Gas Reed. (And this of course ignores the animal and magic reagents). Each of them had good reasons to be in the ground, but I finally decided on Wild Rose (although I almost planted Songberries. And then I realized I might be inviting fairies, drunk and otherwise, to sing near the cottage at all hours). Wild Rose is pretty, smells nice, and is a potent reagent that helps bone and skin ailments.

It was so easy to plant, but the thing that caught my attention was how it so quickly sprang to life. This place is bound to be full of surprises.

Along with the surprises that I'd already seen, there's another one that I feel - it's not something that I can explain well, but I feel like I'm a part of something bigger. Something more than this small house, more than the surrounding grounds. It's as if I've become a part of the land. In a way, I'm an owner, but in another way, I'm a working part of it all.

Like I said, it's hard to describe. But something I did, in honour of that feeling, was to set up a small... it's not a house and certainly not an alter or anything religious, but it's a space on the mantlepiece that somehow symbolizes that belonging feeling. Right now there's a small bowl of water but I intend to add to it as the feeling prompts me.

And it's here that I stand and reach out with my feelings to let the land know I'm heading out and ask that I travel safely. Which is when MouseEye peered out from behind the bowl, yawning. "Where're we headed?" How he ended up behind the bowl in the first place is another mystery but one that will stay mysterious. I don't feel like trying to quiz my never-forthcoming familiar. Instead, I opted to keep my day moving forward.

"We're going to town. I feel like getting something. I just don't know what yet." Besides that, I knew I also wanted to do a bit of reagent gathering. There is nothing so motivating as preparing healing potions and helping people - including all the work needed to make it happen.

MouseEye and I didn't talk much as we walked. My imagination was fully invested in the possibilities. I did remember all the bits that Bob dragged out for me. But over the course of those couple of hours during my last visit, I knew there were a couple of possibilities that I can now afford. 

Bob was as helpful and friendly as he was last time. After a brief discussion, I bought my first home improvement - a hive! I bought a house for bees. Now... it did seem a bit lacking in that the bees didn't actually come with the hive. He doesn't sell swarms. Or queens, for that matter. But at least a house is a start. And maybe I was being a bit silly with my money - which mostly became Bob's money, what with paying for the hive - but I felt proud of making my first, and I know for a certainty, not my last purchase.

After my purchase, I stood outside the shop, feeling a mix of pride (holding onto my new purchase) and foolishness (for holding an empty bee house). I decided to visit a couple of places I hadn't visited yet: the Lunar Tower and the Ritual Circle. They're located near each other a few minutes walk outside the town proper. Off I went with the paper and wire hive banging against my leg.

The walk is a pleasant one. The town itself sits on top of a small hill - the path to the Tower and Circle descends gently through some woods to a clearing. Small wildflowers bloom along the path borders. 

The clearing itself is a relatively small - there isn't much more than the Circle and the Tower. And I should note that neither appeared all that impressive! The Circle was little more than a small labyrinth with a table, made of rock, at the centre. Before anyone could use this for anything, it'd need a good clearing of weeds and windblown debris. And the Lunar Tower looked - how can I say this - like a tall outhouse. "Lunar", I think, refers to the crescent moon carved in the door. But instead of being a place to relieve yourself, there's just a creaky staircase up to a second level where there's another rocky table.

I figured since I was here and I already knew I was going to forage for reagents, that I'd use the Tower's power to attune my foraging equipment (the small bit I have). Maybe it would help me in my harvesting. I felt something happen, but I'm not sure what exactly.

Through all this, I'd left the hive at the path's entrance. I figured where was no sense in lugging it around and banging it against myself, perhaps even damaging it.

I wandered back to the path's mouth, thinking about the sorry state of everything I'd seen and experienced. Yes - I was very recently from the woods and a small woodcutter's cabin. At least it was in good repair! As is my new cottage. But the town of High Rannoc - far from it resembling its lofty name, was a small, ill-kept, rotting-timber wrapped mess.

How I'd become so judgemental, I don't know, but that was how I felt! How else to think of a town that treated a place of power like a place where one leaves their business? Incredible.

And as is my want, I was grumbling about the town and making vows to remake things in a better way and making a list of priorities. And that's when I got back to the hive. And MouseEye. Who appeared to be deep in conversation with someone.

It turns out I was mistaken - it was someones. About a half-dozen bees were walking on, crawling through, and flying around the hive. MouseEye asked me to sit beside him so that we could all be at the same level during our negotiations. 

"What negotiations?", I asked.

"Rental occupancy.", replied MouseEye.

I felt lost. MouseEye, uncharacteristically, explained. "These ladies are looking for a new hive for a new queen and her small brood. And they like the hive floor plan. I was just explaining that the hive will be located at our cottage. They know the area and approve. They'll even transport the hive to an appropriate location there. The only question is how much rent we're asking for."

Rent? I hadn't thought any of this through. I'd figured bees would simply move in and that would be that. Rent?

"Ummm..." I was at a loss. So I decided to let MouseEye continue dealing with the bees. Which was just as well - it was all buzzes, squeaks, and sounds that I can't describe at all. None of the sounds were anything I could understand. Eventually, MouseEye said, "With your ok, they'll remit honey four times per season. Does that sound ok to you?"

I found myself doing some quick math. If I could get four silver for a sweet potion (like what Madame Hightower had paid), I'd make back my fifty silver in less than a year! (4 silver/sweet X 4 sweet/season X 4 seasons/year = 64 silver/year!) I eagerly nodded.

"Good! Then we're all agreed." MouseEye squeaked a last squeak or two, the bees buzzed in response, and the deal was done.

I just looked at MouseEye in amazement. I was flabbergasted. I was... I was deeply appreciative that the hive was going to be used by agreeable bees!

"MouseEye? You speak bee?"

"Mmmm... no..."

"The bees speak mouse?"

"Mmmm... no..."

"Then how...?"

"We just.. ummm... understood each other. It's hard to explain. But it all worked out." And then he changed the subject. "So... where are we off to now?"

With no hive to lug around, the number of places we could go to just opened up. I'd feared my purchase was going to force a return to the cottage. But now? It was time to visit someplace new - Moonbreaker Mountain.

I quietly hoped the "moon" part of the Mountain didn't refer to another outhouse-type set up.

While I could have asked MouseEye to check ahead and see if everything was safe, I decided instead to have us travel together and experience what might come jointly.

I must admit that part of my thinking was centred on how useful MouseEye had been with the bees. With his typical non-answer, I still didn't know or even suspect an answer as to how they not only conversed, but negotiated! It was something special, something mysterious, and something I desperately wanted to know how to do!

We travelled in silence, comfortably. I was lost in my thoughts (per usual) - wondering not only about the bees but also that sense of belonging at the cottage. It was also a comfortable feeling. A warm, safe feeling. Acceptance. I think that was it in a nutshell. It felt good.

Also as usual, I didn't spot the unusual, colourful thing rising above the trees. But then again, I'd been trying to focus my attention on where I was walking. Looking up - that had been less important.

I'd never seen anything like it. It was a balloon - huge stripes of colourful fabric, stitched together, bobbing and swaying, but not rising. While it was MouseEye who called attention to it, it was me that suggested we go check it out.

We climbed a knoll and came face-to-face with the whole scene: the balloon trying to rise, lines lashed to three trees keeping it held in place, a wicker basket lashed under the balloon... and a strange man wearing a leather hat snuggly over his head (complete with goggles!) muttering/saying/yelling to himself, over and over again (in different volumes), "Yes, but that won't work".

As he made to go to another of the trees around which rope was tied, he looked over and spotted me. Quite unexpectedly, and to my utter surprise, he began to hoop and galavant around, shouting things like "Yes!" and "Saved!" and other such. His enthusiasm, far from reassuring me, had me wondering just what was going on.

He began to gesticulate to me, wanting me to approach. As I did so (albeit cautiously), he began speaking to me. "Please do pardon me! I'm afraid I haven't been properly social! Madcap, they call me. Mapcap Matt, but Madcap will do! I'm so glad you've come! I'm in need of some help and I bet you're in want of some adventure."

Given that I could think of better things to do than gather reagents simply to store them (rather than getting them while I was actually planning a potion), I was already half-convinced to say yes to whatever it was he was going to suggest.

"I see it in your face that you have questions! The help I require is to have the ropes untied from the trees while I'm ready to float away in the basket. I'd had help here, but they left! Apparently, the patience needed to fill the balloon with hot air wasn't present. So they left and left me with no way to safely set this glorious balloon free and make sure I went with it. And the adventure is for you to join me! And I'll do one better - I'll take you to wherever you'd like to go. What do you think?"

I was happy to help release the balloon and I was so tempted to float up into the air. I thought about lying on the Meltwater Loch beach, watching the clouds go by. So I asked to float up to the clouds.

"Young miss, your wish is Madcap's command. And I'll do you one better - I'll take you on a tour of The Cloud Isles!"

The Cloud Isles? I'd seen a mention or two in the old witch's notes but hadn't really paid much attention to those entries - flying was a requirement and since I hadn't been graced with that ability (or even a pair of useless but lovely wings). Madcap got himself an eager helper.

That was until it was time to actually help. He tied a rope around me - over the shoulders and through my legs. Not comfortable! But very temporary. 

I undid the three lines from the trees and then ran towards the now rising balloon. Madcap hauled me up easily. After disentangling from my makeshift harness, we watched the ground recede from us as we rose further and further into the sky.

What a joy birds experience. It was beyond description. I swear I'll never forget the sensations, the sights. And, to Madcap's credit, he held off on being a tour guide until after the initial amazement had worn off. Slightly!

"It's beautiful up here, isn't it? And so peaceful. I can steer the airship, in a way, but the most important part is reading the wind currents. And of course knowing the lay of things.

"Speaking of, I don't believe we've properly met yet. As I said, you can call me Madcap. they call me that because that's how people feel about my love of flying. So what may I call you?"

"Mistress Sweetwater."

He closed his eyes for a minute, as if he were searching inside his head for something. "I don't recall hearing that name. Whereabouts do you live?"

"Outside High Rannoc. I'm the new witch."

"Aha! Are you now? How exciting! I live in the other direction but I come to Moonbreaker because it's the best place to launch from. I'll travel back and forth while the weather's good - and Spring is known for her fresh winds and, quite frankly, perfect flying conditions."

We continued to chat and look and be awestruck. "I never get tired of the view", he said, somewhat distantly. I think he was just lost in the view.

After a while, he pointed out bits of land floating in the air. It was so odd seeing what appeared to be islands but coming up at them. "Here we are! The Cloud Isles!"

As impressive as the land below, receding, had been, it didn't hold a candle to land seemingly floating on clouds. I had no words. In fact, I still don't.

Small islands, big islands, rocky islands, forested islands, flat islands, hilly islands, an island with "Help" written out in rocks, islands with... wait... help?

"Madcap? Do you see that?"

He looked where I was pointing. And then he looked at me. "Ah. That. You can't be too careful up here. That could be a trick. Pirates will do sneaky things like that to rope in the unwary. Thankfully, I'm wary! So let's head off that-a-way." He pointed directly opposite to where the rocky appeal for aid was.

"But what if that's someone genuinely in need?"

"Then someone will come along to help."

I paused, then, "What if that someone is me?"

He paused. Then, "Well..."

I pressed. "You did say my wish is your command."

I was afraid I'd pushed too hard. But he just smiled in acquiescence. "You are entirely right. Your wish is indeed my command. I'll get us over there. But let's approach cautiously."

I looked quickly for MouseEye to see if he could make sure things were safe. But he was nowhere to be found.

As we got closer to the island, Madcap yelled out, "Ahoy, the island! Ahoy, the cry for help!"

A minute later, a figure staggered out from the woods bordering the rocky plea.

"Well, I'll be a nightingale's wart. That's old Sebastian Kittington. How in the blazes did he end up here?" To me, he said, "Hang on, we're going in for a landing."

A minute later, we set down gently on top of the Help sign. And seconds after that, Sebastian ran up to the basket. "Saints preserve you, Madcap! Thank goodness you're here! I wasn't sure how much longer I could've held out!"

Madcap made no move to get out of the basket nor to invite the stranded man in. "Sebastian, you old charlatan, what're you doing up here? Aside from hiding, of course."

I could see the story quickly being rehearsed, and then we got to hear the performance. "Well, as to how I got here... I did a bit of business with a travelling merchant. Next thing I know, I found myself here!"

Madcap just crossed his arms in disbelief. "A bit of business? What'd you try to steal?"

Sebastian's eyes widened. "Nothing! I swear!"

Madcap said nothing. He just stared. I felt the need to speak up, having brought this about. "I'm sorry but can someone tell me what's going on?"

Madcap spoke first. "This man is a con, a thief, a gambler, a drunk, and overall a ne'er-do-well. He owes a lot of people a lot of money. And he's been missing for weeks."

I just stood there, thinking. Then, "Well - does he owe you money?"

Madcap nodded. "Five silver."

Sebastian started "Look, Madcap - I told you that I'd cover the bill that day but I didn't currently have my money with me. I'm good for it! Just get me down to some proper ground and I swear I'll pay you what you're owed."

I stared at the two of them. "There's hard feelings over five silver? Really?"

Sebastian grabbed hold of that. "You hear her, Madcap? She's talking sense! Five silver! A pittance, really! C'mon - let me off this rock and I'll pay you what's due."

Madcap held up his hand. "So how did you end up here, again? Who was that merchant?"

Sebastian sighed loudly. "Ok! So how was I supposed to know he was a wizard? With the ability to relocate someone to a place such as this?"

Madcap started to laugh. "Now that's closer to the truth. Fine. Climb aboard."

Sebastian made as if to run, but then Madcap help up his hand. "But first, you will show my passenger, the new witch of High Rannoc, a brief tour of what must now be a fully explored island. And since I also know you know a bit about things of value, including such things as grow in the ground, you'll help her gather a few things." And then he turned to me. "Assuming that's to your liking, Mistress Sweetwater."

I was thrilled! Walking around on a floating island, being directed here and there - courteously but quickly - by my guide, was awesome.

We gathered Moon Lotus flower pods. They'd closed up as protection against the sun's rays but the pollen inside was valuable.

Inside Sebastian's camp, I grabbed some Nimbus Fish scales - they, along with the leftover bones, were all that was left of one of the few things Sebastian had available to eat. I think I heard him say that he'll never eat another fish ever again. Willingly, anyway.

But the real find was realizing that Sebastian had used Star Shards within his Help sign. Not only were they powerful reagents, but by placing one on my mantlepiece, it'd be another subtle sign to anyone coming to the cottage that I was a witch.

Once everything had been gathered and Sebastian had the few things of value he'd collected with him, we went to the balloon. And before Sebastian boarded, he reached into his pocket and pulled out five silver. "I managed to find a coin here and there up here. Here's what I owe you. I'm grateful to be leaving this place."

Madcap held the money for a moment, then turned to me. "I'd've left him had I been here solo. And I nearly did despite you being here. This, I believe, should rightfully be yours." Shocked, I tried to decline, but he insisted. "Thank you, Madcap." was all I could think to say.

We clambered in, then Sebastian laughed, slapped his hands together, then said, "I'm so glad we're all happy! Now, can we make our way away from here?"

As we floated down back towards Moonbreaker Mountain, things were awkwardly silent. I think Sebastian, in particular, was formulating next steps. And not necessarily ones that would lead to better judgement or behaviours.

"You're a witch, eh? On the lookout for an apprentice?" It felt like he was hunting for a safe haven - who would seek to collect a debt against a witch or her retinue?

"Not at this time. Thank you, however, for your interest in working for me."

"Ah. Figured as much. But I had to ask."

Madcap softly glowered. Sebastian noticed. "Hey! No! I'm not looking to welch! I'm good for all of it!"

I had to ask. "How much do you owe?" I figured if his debt to Madcap was only five silver, how much could the total debt be?

Sebastian started to hum and haw, followed by Madcap chiming in. "It has to be a few thousand. And most of that is to far more powerful people than I'd ever want to mess with."

That was... wow. Several thousand? It was possible to get into debt that deep? Wow.

Sebastian just shrugged. "I had a bit of bad luck and a couple of business deals that didn't pan out."

"What will you do?" I just had to know.

He shrugged again. "I'm thinking I could try to make good by giving my original plan another go..."

Madcap jumped in. "Or, instead of trying to rob well-guarded houses, you could become a farmer. Show people you're willing to make coin with good, honest work. You'll eventually be forgiven."

Sebastian looked like it had just been suggested that he collect night soil. "A farmer? No. Gods, no. Maybe I'll acquire some stock and open a shop."

That sounded promising to me. "You know your reagents. Maybe you can gather them!" We all discussed it, with various levels of enthusiasm, until Madcap got us safely on the ground.

I prepared to head back home but Madcap stopped me first. "Many thanks, Mistress. I'll happily fly with you again, any day, any time. Head off now - I'll make sure to direct Sebastian towards his home and away from you. He's not a violent man, but my heart will feel better with distance between your good self and that fraud."

I thanked him back and headed off. A few minutes later I felt MouseEye on my shoulder. "I'm looking backward. No sign of anyone following us."

That's... How did he know to watch for anyone? Hasn't he been nowhere to be found for the entire balloon trip? I asked. "Sorry. I'm kinda shy. It's fine being with you. But I don't like people looking at me. Besides, it helps me watch better."

"So you were with me the entire time?"

"Yeah... pretty much..."

So not all the time, eh? "Where else did you go?"

He shrugged. "Oh... nowhere in particular..."

I sighed. A straight answer was too much to work for and too hard to drag out of him. It'd been a great day and I didn't want to spoil it. I let that secret remain so.

On our way home, I thought about the balloon and the amazing flight. What adventures Madcap must experience! I certainly hope to have another one sometime soon.

I began to hum a tuneless tune, a little bit of random melody that seemed to fit the surroundings - light, airy, happy. I even skipped in time.

The trail went down into a narrow valley - I could reach out and touch both sides. The walls of what quickly became a small canyon rose above me. Up ahead was a block of rock in the middle of the path. And as I approached, a human-headed, lion-bodied creature jumped onto the rock and watched me approach.

All I could think was "What now?"

A few paces shy of the makeshift pedestal, the creature spoke. "Hold, traveler! I am a sphinx! According to ancient law, you must answer a riddle. Successfully answer and you may pass. Fail and pay the penalty!"

I wasn't amused. "Look, I'm tired. I'm just looking to go home and settle in."

"No matter! You have approached and so now you must answer. And failure to answer at all is to answer incorrectly and subjects you to the penalty."

I sighed. "Fine. What's the penalty?"

That brought it up short. "The penalty?"

"Yes. The penalty. What will happen if I just simply keep walking past?"

"Oh. Uh..." The now uncertain-looking sphinx looked over its shoulder. From behind some trees, a loud whisper. "You eat her."

The sphinx responded. "I told you. I'm vegetarian! I can't eat her!"

A pause, then I jumped in. "How about if I don't answer correctly, I have to teach you a riddle?"

While there were loud objections coming from the trees behind the sphinx, it proclaimed, "I like that! I could learn a new riddle. Accepted!"

Well, that was a penalty I could live with. "Ok. What's your riddle?"

The sphinx sat even more erect. "You drive a cabbage cart. Now note! You drive the cart along the first row of a field and collect 32 cabbages. On the second row, you collect another 17 cabbages. And on the third and last row, you collect another 26 cabbages.

"Your riddle is - What's the name of the cabbage cart driver?"

I was about to say how many cabbages had been collected when I realized what the question really was. And potentially what it really really was. "May I ask questions about this riddle?"

The sphinx hesitated, then magnanimously allowed me to ask.

"If the name I say is how the driver is known, but isn't the true name, will the answer be accepted?"

He shook his head. "No. It must be the true name."

Ah. But anyone knowing my true name could have power over me. So... how to answer? I gave it some thought. I looked at MouseEye, or where he'd been. He no longer was. I was on my own on this one. Ok. How about... "The cabbage cart's driver's name is the true name of the witch known as Mistress Sweetwater."

The sphinx just sat there, blinking. Then - "It rings of truth. Very well, the witch known as Mistress Sweetwater, you have passed the test. Travel safely." And he stepped down and headed towards where the other voices had been coming from. As I passed, two much larger sphinxes were huddled around the one who'd posed my riddle. One looked at me. "He's learning the ropes and needed some moral and emotional support. It'll be better next time."

Oh goodie. I just smiled, headed for home, and hoped this was the last of the day's adventures. I was so ready to kick off my shoes, enjoy a tea, and relax.

A few minutes later, MouseEye reappeared. I snapped. "Thanks for helping me out there! I could've been sphinx food!"

"No, you had it handled from the beginning. But great move to suggest a penalty of your own choosing."

I don't know if I believed him at all but it did feel good to... not outwit the sphinx, but to turn the situation into something that favoured me better.

Not much later, I finally arrived home. As I stepped onto the grounds, I felt...

Not peace. Not serenity. Something was wrong. Of course.

As I approached the cottage, I saw, sitting on the ground, a very unhappy young teen boy. The look he shot me was so similar to the one Sebastian had given. For some reason, this boy needed rescuing. 

He called out. "Don't come any closer! The bees have gone mad! They'll attack!"

"Are you being stung now?"

"No! They seem to leave me alone so long as I don't move from where I am right now!"

The bees, eh? Let me guess... "Did you chase a flying hive?"

He looked absolutely gobsmacked. "How did you know? How could you have known?"

And then I saw my Wild Rose. Trampled. "You chased it, weren't looking where you were going, trampled my flower bed, and then tried to run off without fixing the damage."

I swear his jaw dropped so low that he could've easily scooped dirt with his lower lip.

"The real question here is 'Are you remorseful?'" 

He just nodded.

"Then what you'll do is walk over to that poor rose and fix it as best you can."

That's when his eyes went wide with terror. "I don't know anything about fixing dead flowers, miss! I'm sorry miss! I just want to go home."

"Well then, you'll learn. Come on." And with that I walked past where he was sitting (to show I wouldn't be stung) and headed for my poor wild rose. It looked bad. I wasn't sure if it could be salvaged but I was determined to make that young man try.

A few seconds later, and watching every direction all at once, he joined me.

"Still not stung, right? Bees die if they sting you. And they certainly don't want to die on account of a clumsy and thoughtless boy. So here - kneel down."

I looked over at him - afraid, panicked, overwhelmed. "Close your eyes. Breathe, You're safe here. You didn't mean ill will. Just breathe."

To his credit, he did. As he calmed down and before we moved on to saving unsaveable plants, I thought it best to the niceties out of the way. "What's your name?"

"Mick."

"And where do you live, Mick?"

Turns out he, along with the rest of his quite large family, work as tanners. While adults would describe it as a far off, kids cover ground the way an airship flies - quickly!

"Ok, Mick. I want you to re-dig a hole, put in the roots, and while you do that, apologize for your carelessness."

"I'm so sorry, miss, for..."

I stopped him. "Did you trample me?"

"No, miss."

"Apologize to what you did trample."

He clearly thought I was crazy, but it was what I felt was needed to make it all work out. And with the help of some ominous buzzing buzzing behind him, he did as I asked. "I'm so sorry, little plant. I hope you'll be healthy again."

I heard the sincerity. The Wild Rose did as well, I think, because we watched it heal itself. It did lose some stem and leaves, but overall it would live and do so happily.

I felt a change in his demeanour - the wondering if he'd just been callously humiliated. So I grabbed his wrist before he got up. "I'm Mistress Sweetwater, the new witch. This is my cottage and these are my grounds. You made a mistake, you've made amends, and everything has worked out because you worked to fix your mistake.

"Now it's time for you to go. I have work to do."

I gave him a few minutes before walking to the hive. "Thank you for being a part of this place. Makers of honey. Pollinators of flowers. Guardians of the grounds. Thank you."

I swear I heard, within the buzzing, something that sounded like an acknowledgement and gratitude. 

And with that, it was time for this witch to store some reagents, brew some tea, and listen to the music of the night.

Spring, Week 2 - I Become Mistress Sweetwater. And Cure Madame Hightower.

Here's the video on how I wrote Spring, Week 2, Cure:

 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 host 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 can 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.