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. 

Also Spring, Week 5 - Miss Bogfire

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

He just looked at me. "Must I?"

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

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

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

He took his turn to sigh. "Ok."

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

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

"Mmm hmm."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why? You going to cry?"

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

Time to leave before anything more happens!

*****

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

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

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

Oh, how fast things can change!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"All best."

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

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

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

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

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

I said I was.

"Help Bob, yes?"

I said I had.

"Keep here. Better."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He just yawned. "I watch."

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

"Mmm hmm."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I paddled away from there as fast as I could.

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

I peeked underneath. It peered out back.

"You're safe."

It just stayed in place.

"I can set you on land somewhere."

Again, no movement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Also the First Week of Spring - Meeting MouseEye

Here's the video on how I wrote Spring, Week 1, Rest Episode:

*****

 After curing Albert and having a bit of a rest, most especially getting over falling into that horrid cell - you'd think someone would have done a better job of shoring up the roof so's to not let prisoners have a way out - granted a hole in the roof - but still!

Anyway, with the witch gone but people still needing her services, I decided to settle in and do what I can. And yes, the allure of making some coin is fabulous but really my goal now is to do a good job so that when - not if - the old witch returns, she'll be appreciative of my efforts and will train me up. Meanwhile I have her book and whatever notes, bits, and doodads I can find.

Which is all fine and good but I do need wood for the fire and food to eat and laundry to do and and and... I was busy for a few days, just getting things back to a maintained level.

As I worked, I thought about something the book mentioned - a Familiar. I'm not entirely sure what it is that a familiar is, other than some sort of helpful creature who could help me. And while I didn't want to get ahead of myself again, I also thought that the fact that I'd just cured my first patient and that I intended to continue should be enough justification to put it out there and so see if there was a familiar who would want to work with me. 

The book said I should go to a location where I felt most in line with the energy. The forest is where I'd dwelled all my life so to the forest of Glimmerwood Grove I went.

Having learned my lesson of being mindful of my surroundings, particularly where I'm walking, I tried to pay attention. But my mind wandered - I thought about the wish I'd make before calling for my familiar. And I wondered who'd answer the call. And I wondered how they'd be able to help me. And I wondered...

"Lost in thought, are ya?"

The voice, old and gravely, cut through my musings. "Sorry, what?"

Standing there, plain as day, stood an elderly man. "I've been seeing smoke rising from the old witch's cottage. But I know she's not there. You've moved in?"

While I could have been distressed about the question, I decided to just admit it. "Yes. For now, anyway. It seems someone needs to be the local witch until she returns."

He grunted. "Knew her stuff, she did. Had that place full of plants and animals and who knows what else. Could cure the most horrendous of things. By the look of you, I'd say you can barely maintain good health, let alone cure ill. Hopefully though, you won't be quite so touchy about all the dumb ways people find to injure themselves."

"Well, I did just cure someone who'd been frogified."

"Ah! That'd be the Flywheel boy. Damn fool in my opinion, kissing frogs and dreaming of living in castles and all that royal living instead of helping at the mill. So where you headed?"

 I didn't see any harm in revealing it, so I told him.

He grunted in reply. "Plenty of things growing in the Grove. Good luck in your hunt."

And here's where I may have made a mistake. "I'm certainly going to hunt for ingredients, but first I'm going to summon a familiar." I thought it'd sound impressive. It wasn't taken that way.

"A familiar, huh? What's that, some sort of something what does your work for you? Sounds to me like another version of kissing frogs, if you take my meaning."

I think I must've recoiled a bit before responding, but I didn't get the chance. "Well, good luck to you. Don't let me keep you." And with that, he walked off.

Kissing a...? 

I'm not trying to... 

I'm... 

Am I?

Is this a way to avoid work? To be less than I should be?

These thoughts and more swirled in my head as my legs carried me to a spot in a clearing in the Glen.

So... should I do this? Should I ask for help? Should I look more like a real witch by having a familiar?

Yes, I decided. Yes I should. I deserve one! A helpful one! A giant one! A... a good one!

I must admit that I was far less tranquil than I wanted to be and probably should have been, but I was bound and determined to see this through!

After not gently, kinda throwing, stones into a kind of circle and not placing, more tossing, flowers into the mix, I kind of not sat, more threw my butt onto the ground, and then began. I felt, I magicked, I sang harsher than was pleasant, felt aggrieved, thought...

I should've waited to calm down and get my centre back. But I didn't.

Eventually I did hear a voice. It was tiny, soft, barely there. But I heard it - something had responded! I asked it to show itself.

From behind a small boundary of weeds peeked out a mouse. Now I'm not one to get squeamish about mice, but when you're dreaming of magnificent creatures, let's just say "mouse" is towards the bottom of the list.

"Um... hi?" Not the best way to start things, admittedly.  I'd just summoned - I should've been celebrating. And in its big mousey eyes I could see the hurt. I tried again. "Hi! I'm glad you answered my call. What can I call you?"

It stood up on its hind legs before speaking. "There were a lot of creatures who followed you, all hoping to be your familiar, but they got scared away as you threw rocks and flowers around. I just stayed and watched. And now I'm here."

Ah. Really not a good start. But I can try to salvage this. "I'm really sorry. I was upset and I didn't honour the magic. Please forgive me. I do hope we can work together."

Those eyes, so big on such a small creature. His name just seemed to come from them. "Can I call you MouseEye?"

He shrugged. "Sure." With a twitch of whiskers, he looked around. "What are we up to?"

"Let's gather some things."

"Ok." And with that, we started looking for useful items. By which I mean I was looking for plants and MouseEye watched me.

"Why don't you go over there and pick some things?"

"Must I?", he asked.

I had no idea how to answer that, so I just went with "It'd be great if you did!"

"Ok", he said. After I'd harvested some Wild Rose and Coffee Cap he eventually came out from the undergrowth and said, "I found some Songberries."

"Great! Did you bring them?"

"No. But I can take you to them."

Less than helpful, but ok. Off we trudged.

As we went along, I said, "You know, you could've brought it to me."

"Oh! I couldn't do that! I'm good at watching and I have an amazing memory. But I don't carry things. Sorry."

Right.

Ok!

Well... I guess I can work with this.

I guess.

Aloud I said, "Let's go to town. I haven't been there, really, and I think knowing what's there will help me in the future." MouseEye just shrugged.

Going back to High Rannoc this second time was a very different experience over the first. When I'd been in the cart, it had seemed big and daunting. This time though - it seemed a bit smaller. The outer wall wasn't really a wall - it was more like rotting timbers surrounding several buildings - some houses, some shops, and one recently vacated (by me) school.

I decided to visit a shop. I had 20 silver in my pocket, courtesy of my new found potion making abilities, and I thought I'd look into a thing or two to spruce up the cottage. Or maybe I could splurge on an ingredient or two and get ahead of what was sure to become a steady stream of patients. And so I went to the shop with a sign out front showing items being put into a sack. It had to be the general store.

I walked in and a small bell rang, alerting the proprietor of a potential customer entering the shop. Turns out it's called Bits & Bobs - the Bits being what they sell - a bit of this and a bit of that - and the Bobs being the name of the people running the shop through several generations.

This Bob was very nice, very helpful, and had plenty of bits for someone to buy! However, most of them are priced beyond anything I'll ever be able to afford!

Turns out 20 silver isn't quite the fortune I'd thought it was. I must've spent a couple of hours looking at his stock and trying to convince myself that I'm not a pauper. Despite being unable to afford anything.

Bob was very understanding and I think a bit pitying as well. He wished me well and assured me he'd be happy to help me whenever I come back. Where MouseEye was all that time I didn't know.

With that visit a bust, I thought I'd go to the tavern and have a bit of something while considering what to do next. It's called the Copper Fox Tavern.

This place too was quite empty but for the proprietor. His name wasn't Copper or Fox, but instead Fusillade ("call me Fussy, 'cause I am where quality is concerned!"). He said the name was given to him because of his habit of doing things over and over again until he got the result he wanted.

Anyway, he introduced himself and we chatted briefly - me talking about settling into the witch's cottage and his listening, when this young bravo walked in, apparently, or so MouseEye told me afterward, the two exchanged knowing glances, and then the newcomer approached me. Which is to say he less walked than strutted over, leaned up against my table, and before I had an idea of what was going on, he began what could only be considered his sales pitch.

"Roger Rogerson at your service. Monsters slain, dungeons delved, incredible feats... feated!" Out of the corner of my eye I could see Fussy close his eyes and shake his head. Clearly Roger's rehearsing of his pitch had been aided by Fussy and yet it still didn't flow.

I smiled back politely. "Why would I need your services, sir?" I thought it best to be very polite.

A quick look of confusion flashed on his face and then left as he found the answer. "Word has it you've moved into the witch's cottage and with you being young, inexperienced, and new to the area, I figured you'll want a stout companion as you gather ingredients."

I must admit that sounded attractive. Thoughts of the hollowness of Hero's Hollow resounded in my memory. I asked his price.

"I'm only a junior...", he started, then stuttered to a stop with the frantic waving of Fussy's hands. "Ten silver and it's a big discount, just for you."

Ten silver? Half my amount earned on a potion? Oh how far 20 silver doesn't go.

I think, even though I tried not to react, that he caught my inward sense of sticker shock. He started again, "Well... I suppose I could..." More frantic waving of Fussy's hands let to "...umm... take a deposit for future services?"

I tried to continue smiling. "Thanks. I'll keep you in mind whenever I go off foraging."

And then I thanked them both and left. Seconds later I heard Fussy and Roger arguing. Embarrassed, I just walked, not really paying attention, until I found myself at the town's fountain.

It's little more than a well but instead of dipping a bucket into a hole in the ground, the water conveniently comes up and burbles out into a large basin.

I sat on the edge just looking around at the few buildings I could see. One of them was my former school. I wondered if maybe I'd been too hasty in leaving. I wondered what in the world I was doing. I wondered...

"Hello dear. You look lost."

I looked up and saw a girl, not much older than me, holding a huge jug.

"Oh...uh...sorry." I moved out of what I thought was her way.

She giggled "Oh! Don't move on my account! It's nice to take a break from chores." She sat down next to me. "I'm Francie."

I didn't know what to say, so I went with "Hi." 

I think she giggled again at my awkwardness. "Are you a student at the school?"

"I was."

She nodded. "I was too. Did they tell you about the boy who died?"

"Yeah. And that it's why it's all learning inside."

"Yeah. They told us the same. That boy they keep on about died years ago. And apparently he fell. Some say from a cliff, others say it was from a high tree branch. But it was a son of the family that runs the school so they stopped allowing anyone to leave. Unless you graduate. Or quit. So I quit."

"Really? Me too."

"So now I work as a domestic. What are you going to do?"

"I'm living in a witch's cottage."

She stopped and looked at me with eyes wide and mouth open. "You didn't!?! You did!?! Wow - you are way braver than me. How's it like living with a real witch?"

"I don't know. She hasn't been home."

"Oh ho! A domestic for a witch who's not around? Have you looked through her stuff? Have you found her secrets? Oh, so exciting!"

And I guess somewhere around there is when I decided that the quiet and peace of the cottage would be far more welcome than these townspeople. Which is when MouseEye popped onto my shoulder and whispered (but loudly enough to be heard by Francie), "Mistress beckons."

Francie nearly dropped her jug in excitement. "Is that a familiar? I've heard of them!"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry but I have to go."

"He's so cute! What's his name?"

I paused for a moment, then said, "I don't know if I should say, but I guess I can tell you. It's Mortimer. Mortimer d'Excellence."

I started to get up but then MouseEye once again loudly whispered, "If you're going to share my name with someone, you should share my full name."

I shot him a look and he returned an innocent one back. "Mortimer d'Excellence Magnificarious Wiggle Whiskers. The Third."

I got up quickly as Francie tried repeating what I'd just said. And almost ran out of the gates.

I did manage to slow down on the way back and started to think about storing my new reagents and being ready whenever someone would need a witch's care.

I did think to ask MouseEye where'd he gone off to during my trip to town. "I watched", he responded. "Ok", I said, "Tell me what you saw. All of it."

"Must I?"