To hear the narration and learn how I put the episode together, check out this video:
*****
There was a tension in the air, as if the calm wasn't occurring, as if the activity of days hadn't ceased. Tomorrow would bring... but I'm getting ahead of myself.
What mattered, at least in this moment, was a final good-bye, of sorts, from one friend to another. Which is why Mistress Sweetwater was sitting in front of her writing desk, thinking, composing, but never really starting. Until at last she shrugged and just started:
Dear Pip,
It's been a crazy few days here in my version of the Here Yet Not Here. I know that sometimes what happens in my world can echo into yours, or maybe it's the other way round, or maybe something happens somewhere else and we experience echoes of that. And in this moment I realize that if I wanted to get all philosophical, I should've let MouseEye write this! Anyway - I just hope your experience has been less chaotic than mine has been!
I should add that some of the crazy is from the mayor of High Rannoc! It turns out that he and his wife are malicious and magic-wielders - they actually got the Head Mistress of the Herbology School to "collect" people - she'd gotten to the point of abducting people and putting them into a long-term sleep! My friends and I managed to set things back to a more normal way, but in the process it broke me of my desire to be the village witch anymore.
The timing is awkward, what with the Flower Festival approaching and Bess (more about her in a minute) having promised to play in the local tavern. But between the trauma she experienced (she wasn't hurt, but it was all emotionally draining) and the overwhelming gratitude of the people we rescued (there were so many people!), we've received gifts aplenty. Which, when added to my small sack of coins, will keep us in money for a good long while. And even given that, we can both make money wherever we choose to go - she as a bard and me as a witch.
We've packed the things I've collected into Bess's wagon and into Vapour Trail's copious storage space. I did make a suggestion that we pack Bess' wagon into Vapour Trail but Bess blanched at that! So... it's the slow but steady method of rolling along roads instead of flying over them that will get us from place to place. I'm looking forward to slow travel, curing sniffly noses, and maybe even a wart or two! (I still can't believe that I thought all I'd ever face was warts on various-odd body parts!)
It went remarkably well. Everyone - the bees, Fen, Pop, ...everyone! wants to be a part of whatever Bess and I either discover for ourselves or create. I'm so honoured they want to be a part of this new adventure.
I got your last note, and the teenage Pillar Mushrooms. They are also safely ready to travel!
Also in your last note you said that the chocolates you sent were the last ever made by the master chocolatier Wonky Willy. We all really enjoyed them - with some of us gorging and others savouring. I'll let you guess which naughty characters ate like there will never be any more. Because, as we now know, there won't be any more!
I'm rambling. Sorry!
The goodbyes have been hard. I'm going to miss Bob and Roger and Fussy and... well - everyone! Human and not. I feel like I was making a difference in their lives just as they've made a huge difference in mine.
Someone I'm not saying goodbye to is Bess. She's... words just can't express how I feel about her. We've only known each other for a couple of weeks, and usually we were experiencing something extraordinary at the time (like meeting Nut, the Star Dragon). But I know her heart. It's pure and supportive and courageous (but I don't think she'd admit to that last one!). We both know that we don't really know many details that make up our own individual experiences and histories, but it's the discovery of those details that I think will be a source of intimacy, of partnership, of living life together.
I don't suppose anyone ever said directly that witches aren't supposed to be sappy, but I am!
Ooh! Speaking of... I found out my parentage and... I'm half-human. My mom's a dryad. It... things make more sense now, mostly in small respects, but when you add them all up (don't forget to carry the seven!), it's a lot.
I know there's a lot more I could say, but I also need to close this up, send it off, and hope you receive it with the same goodwill that I've embedded within each word. (I should add that Bess has this idea to breed Pop O'Locks and to have music infused inside of them so you could have a song or tale at the ready. It's nothing more than a wild idea, but if there's one thing I've learned from my experience is that even wild ideas aren't necessarily nearly as wild as might be perceived at first. So... keep you eyes and ears peeled!)
Thank you, Best Bestie, for your gifts, your kindnesses, your wisdom. (MouseEye says I should specifically mention cookies. And something about not using dragon fire to bake them. I don't know what that's about but I do hope you are ok!)
Hopefully, between my knowledge of the Here Yet Not Here and my newfound ability to travel along plant root systems, I'll be able to send more notes or even perhaps visit one day!
For now though, we're going to travel to my childhood home so that Bess can meet my parents and I can learn more about what it means to have Dryad blood. And maybe, just maybe, I can learn to pronounce my given name using my human mouth! (It's a tongue twister in tree form, so I don't hold out much hope, but it'll be fun to try!)
Love you, Best Bestie!
Sweet
Folding the letter with care, she set it where the Here Yet Not Here portal exists, knowing it'll be delivered to Pip's cottage.
With the second-to-last self-imposed obligation completed, she knelt before the cold hearth, hands in her lap, and thought of me. The sensation of so many feelings flowing to me: thanks, appreciation, respect, sorrow, and a host more, moved me deeply. I gave her my blessing, my love, and my understanding. It was hard, watching my best student leave, but I also knew she was ready to make her mark upon the wider world.
Once our communion was complete, she found Bess, her lover, compatriot, soulmate, kissed her, then said the words she'd been fighting against but which I knew were coming: "I'd like to go now. Even a kilometre or two along the road. It's too painful to stay."
I too had some final things to do. I was able to watch as the town of High Rannoc prepared to celebrate the coming festival, perhaps more fully than it had in a very long time; having been saved by a set of unlikely heroes from a fate... perhaps not worse than death, but being put into a prolonged slumber would, in many ways, be the same as a fate equal to death.
Speaking of - I shifted focus to the fate of the mayor and his wife. While I disliked the actions they had taken and would certainly have disliked even more the growing elaborate and confident maledictions, curses, and other evil works, still I felt pity for their current state. And, I suppose to make that make sense, I have to add that they are currently both in a chamber Sweet never visited, watched by the self-titled Count, as the two fight each other. One is to be a sacrifice to the demon Askew for services rendered (a demon who works on credit. Who ever would have thought!) while the 'survivor' will be turned into a vampire and made the primary subject for the Count's experiments to reverse his magically-imposed vampirism.
And then it was time for me to make my last calls, to say goodbye to one and all I've met and known for the countless years I've been here.
I can feel the promise of the presence of my next student, my next apprentice, far off in a distant land. It's a journey I look forward to, an adventure I can't wait to commence, an excitement I haven't experienced for a very long time.
Never let it be said that it's only Baba Yaga's Hut that can stand on its own two legs and make its way to a new home.
To hear the narration and learn how I put the episode together, check out this video:
*****
"Mistress?" Francie's voice wasn't its usual bright and bubbly tone. Instead, it was rushed and uncertain.
I stepped out and greeted her. "Hi, Francie."
Between being out of breath and her lips trying to produce the right sounds, nothing that she said in reply made sense. I invited her in.
Franice froze on the doorstep. "Oh! I didn't know you were curing someone already! I can..."
I interrupted. "She's a friend, not a patient. So please sit down, catch your breath, and when you're ready, I'll ask Bess to give us some privacy."
Francie did sit, but also started talking. "Oh! It's not me who's ill. It's Mrs. Ruffage. My mistress, Madame Hightower, believes something is wrong at the school. The Herbology school. No one's leaving."
That confused me. I'd seen Mrs. Ruffage at the tavern, listening to Bess play, not too long ago. I shared that with Francie.
"My mistress says students haven't stepped foot outside the door ever since a boy was attached the other day. Bitten in a painful way is what she says. And even Mrs. Ruffage doesn't come and go the way she used to. It's far more guarded now, my mistress says."
Thinking back, I hadn't seen any students from the school at the Copper Fox. And I'd spend enough time there to know that they hadn't been there.
"So your mistress believes Mrs. Ruffage is keeping them inside?"
"Yes! Oh, it's so hard for me to understand, but you've got it. I think."
That was... weird. But plausible. What if Mrs. Ruffage had been suffering from a slowly developing case of hoarding. But not hoarding in general - it was very specific: people. If you substitute gold for people, you'd assume it's a dragon. So... maybe this is Dragon Sickness? The school had slowly, but surely, been keeping students closer and closer to the school. And now, it seems, MouseEye's biting of the boy had triggered the disease to more fully manifest. And, it was quite possible, Mrs. Ruffage had also suffered a triggering experience that was now keeping her in the school.
I could put a potion together. That was the easy part. The hard part would be getting her to drink it. And if it turned out I was wrong, getting out of the school building could get... tricky.
After a minute of considering things, I decided on a course of action. "Francie, please tell your mistress that I'm on the case. And, if it pleases her, I'll come by her house before I enter the school."
She repeated my message a couple of times, then headed off. Bess, meanwhile, had been quiet by not talking, was asking via body language what I was up to.
"You feel like seeing Blastfire Bog in all its boggy glory?"
"So long as it doesn't involve flying, I'm in."
Which is how Bess and I ended up at Cunk's Dock to pick up and set sail in Miss Bogfire. But our coming here alone wasn't without controversy - Marvin wanted to, and I quote, 'look at something other than a pasture', but since things can be a bit sketchy, especially the bog, I thought it best that he not come. MouseEye said he should come because, and I quote (again), 'You get lost in the bog as soon as you put the coracle into the water'. Which, ok, I admit I do get turned around in there from time to time, but I figured I'd be ok.
I absolutely wasn't trying (again) to show off to Bess that I could take care of myself. And it was absolutely along the same lines that I warned Bess about Cunk being a bog goblin.
"He's a what?"
"Bog goblin. Who's quite nice and brilliant at making boats."
"Ah. Right.", she said doubtfully.
Soon enough, she met him.
"Ha! You come! Friend come! Good good!"
Once we had Miss Bogfire underway, Bess said, "Never in a million years would I have believed there's a civilized bog goblin. Never! But I guess you learn something new everyday."
Talking about learning something new everyday... as we rowed and landed and picked and rowed again (oddly enough, idle chatter starts to stop when rowing doesn't stop starting!), and after harvesting a bit of silverleaf (it's much easier gathering reagents in the fresh air and bright of the bog instead of the stale air and darkness of the dungeon!), we heard something roaring. It wasn't anything alive that was making the noise! Which, frankly, just made the sound worse. Unidentifiable roars should be considered, as a rule, to be bad. And if it gets louder, it's worse.
It got worse.
Bess and I paddled back towards the island we'd just left, in the interests of safety, security, and being able to run for our lives if the need arose. We waited, watched, listened as the roar became deafening. And then, shooting around a channel, came a boat. A large boat. With a huge fan on the back of it that seemed to propel the boat more over the water than through it. And steering this roaring fan boat thing was... a crocodile. Kind of. He was... it was like a human had had relations with a croc and this was the product of their love. A love full of trust, no doubt, in order for this particular love to exist. Or maybe it'd been a human male who'd become a meal right after birds and bees time had ended. Disturbing, when you think of it that way.
Anyway - a crocodile person. And not dressed as a crocodile is dressed (which is to say, not at all), but instead he was wearing these odd blue clothes the like of which I've never seen before.
Bess managed to find out they're called 'denim'. And that they're the biggest fashion hit in the crocodile people community since polyester. Whatever that is.
As to how Bess got the opportunity to ask - when the fan boat came flying around the channel, Grins At Food (the name of the crocodile man), spotted us then immediately cut the engine to float up to us.
He grinned. Thankfully, I didn't know his name yet. "Ladies! Hey! How are you? I haven't seen such beauty on the water since last year's Flower Festival. So - whatcha up to?"
Bess and I just looked at each other and started giggling. It was Bess who answered. "We're doing a bit of ingredient hunting. My friend is a witch."
"Are you now? Cool. Cool! Say - I'm sure you're getting along just fine, and I have nothing against Cunk's custom coracles (and tell him from me that if he still is refusing to use that name for his business, he's leaving money on the table), but what you need is a little bit of horsepower."
Bemused, I said, "Where are the horses? Do they do well in a bog?"
Grins At Food just laughed at me. "Ah, nah, babe! All the horses I need are in this baby!", he said as he patted the huge metal engine.
Bess leaned over and whispered in my ear, "Let me handle him. He's close enough to being a typical lounge lizard that I've got his measure. You navigate and we'll be done quickly. You ok with that?"
I nodded. And with that, we were off.
The roar of the boat was obscene. It was difficult to hear myself think, let alone hear what anyone else was saying. Yuck! However, we were able to get from place to place far faster than in Miss Bogfire.
On our way to a location I knew had a grove of Nurse Willows (for the Surgeon Sap it oozes out), I spotted some mushrooms. Now - these mushrooms, despite not being full-sized, still rose over my head. We took a couple of mushroom caps. And in the process filled a lot of the free space in the boat!
While Bess and Grins (and by now I did know his name) worked to arrange the caps, I spotted a snake. And an opportunity. You see - a snake's promise is one of the most powerful reagents you can harvest. For one thing, it requires a wand. For another, snakes have no incentive to keep a promise. I'd brought Sarah, so I had the things I'd need. What was needed now was a promise and something to trade so that it'd keep its word.
"Greetings, snake. I'm Mistress Sweetwater."
It's hooded lids considered me. "Greetings, human."
"I wish to trade."
"I wish to fly, but not all wishes are granted."
"I'd like a promise from you."
"In exchange for...?"
"What would you like?"
"To fly."
"That's doable."
"Indeed? What then shall I promise?"
"I have an idea."
"Do keep me in suspense."
"What if you promise, once you've flown, to never return to the bog."
"And why would I promise such a thing? I like the bog."
"But wouldn't you rather be up in the clouds? You can live in the Cloud Isles."
"Indeed? Let me consider it."
The snake was negotiating hard! It'd spotted that the mushroom caps were settled and that we were ready to go. I tried again. "Are the Cloud Isles not a place for you?"
It regarded me again. "I have no idea. So why would I agree to live there?"
"Would you like to live in safety and comfort? Be unmolested as you molt? And eat your fill as you will in my cottage?"
"I'll fly and in return I'll live happily in your cottage? And promise to never return to the bog?"
"Yes."
"Agreed."
I had the wand ready, so as the snake said 'agreed', the words became a mist and the mist turned lavender and was absorbed by Sarah. I picked up Slow Slither (her name), draped her around my neck, and we headed off. Bess flashed me a look. I returned a shrug. "You are crazy, girl!", she said as she shook her head.
While I'd hoped to gather some Silverleaf in the bog, an impatient serpent began to get on the nerves of a flirtatious crocodile man.
"When shall I fly?"
"Today maybe. By tomorrow definitely."
"Hey babe. Check out the wake this boss machine can throw!"
"Sorry - when did you say I can fly?"
"As I said, today or tomorrow."
"I can get the engine screaming loud and drown out most everything else!"
"Are we any closer to flying?"
And so on. Grins was grinning at Slow, Slow was anything but at getting under Grins' skin, and Bess and I started holding our collective breath.
Bess, wisely, intervened. "Say, Grins, you've been a big help to my friend and I, but we have to be getting back. You know, obligations and all..."
"Oh, yeah, that's cool. I'll zip us over to your dinky goblin barge and then you can make your own way out. Cause, you know, I don't want to offend your slithery friend. Or whatever."
The engine's roar helped keep an awkward silence from manifesting, but it couldn't keep the reek of affronted reptile from permeating the boat. Maybe it didn't take eons to get back to Miss Bogfire, but it sure felt like it did.
When we did pull up to the coracle, I was afraid a quite surly croc might throw the mushroom caps overboard by throwing and deliberately missing the coracle. It didn't happen. Owing, I believe, to Bess' stroking his ego and making suggestions that the caps were probably too unwieldy to be moved carefully from boat to boat.
Grins rose to the challenge. Sort of. He hefted the mushroom caps over his head and tossed them into Miss Bogfire. The second cap totally filled her. "Ok, well, there you go."
Bess and I tried to figure out how we were going to fit into the coracle. It didn't look good. "Are you sure you can't give us a tow to Cunk's dock?" Bess tried valiantly but to no avail.
"Ah, sorry babe. No can do. Gotta rock and roll. But if you're ever in the area again, look me up and maybe we can hang out. Cuz, you know, once you croc it, you'll never knock it, cuz we know how to rock it."
Bess and I gingerly, tentatively, got onboard, keeping a tenuous balance. Grins roared off. Thankfully the wake didn't topple us.
"You wouldn't happen to have a plan to get us home safely, do you?", Bess asked hopefully.
"Not yet. Let me think."
I'd hoped MouseEye would suddenly appear. But if he was going to show up, it hadn't happened yet. I figured Marvin suddenly showing up would increase our problems, not solve any. Would summoning Vapour Trail help? Yes. Yes! I reached out mentally. And got back something on the order of 'Your location is outside of my service area'. Right.
"How's it going?" Bess, to her credit, was holding it together. Maybe not well, but kudos to managing it as well as she was.
"Working on it.", I said distantly.
I remembered Sarah. I held her up, focused, and entered the wand's realm. I found myself standing in front of the lone tree on the hill. The figure of Sarah was some distance away with her back to me. I... this felt important to solve on my own. I chose to not go to the figure and instead to stay with the tree. The tree. The tree I'd been inside, felt roots reaching out, touching other roots. That, I thought, was the start of the answer.
I approached the tree, touched it, even hugged it. Still I was separate and apart from the tree.
"Be the tree. Be yourself.", said Sarah's voice from behind me.
I breathed, focused, and without stepping, entered. The sensations changed, but were also so familiar. But I was focused on reaching out, feeling the information network within the web of roots.
I was a witch and a tree and a message travelling along and outward, looking for help.
Help answered.
And then I opened my eyes and saw Bess looking at me. "Help's on the way."
A relieved smile was her only answer.
We waited for a few minutes. "You call for the broom?", Bess asked.
"I tried her, but no dice. No, this is help from a different place."
"Oh."
We started chatting about mostly nothing, trying to pass the time. Which may be why it took a minute to realize that the coracle was moving slowly, gently, but definitely in the right general direction. Looking down, we saw the bog's plant life - weeds, reeds, grasses - undulating. In wave-like harmony. It was hard staying still, maintaining balance, while the bog itself propelled us towards salvation. We ugly-cried in relief. Slow Slither, meanwhile, peeked out from under the mushroom caps. "We fly soon, yes?"
Between sniffles and gulps of air and aching laughter from the question so disconnected from our recent trouble, I managed, "Yes. Although tomorrow is looking far more likely."
"Figures", she said, then slunk back to the bottom of the boat.
Bess shot me a quizzical look. I hadn't explained things yet. So I did. And she sat there looking bemused. "Remember how I said that if I ever tell this tale, I'd have to tone it down a bit to make it believable?"
I gave a sheepish smile and shrugged. "Sorry?"
"Oh! Don't apologize! Let me put it this way - you're giving me so much material, an absolute embarrassing amount of material, that I'll be set for life telling fresh tales to the end of my days. Say - speaking of... There's something I want to share..."
Whatever it was she wanted to tell me got interrupted as we rounded a last corner. "Hey! You move! No splash! No work! Move how?" Cunk, standing at the end of the dock, peered at us coming closer.
I carefully waved. He seemed to ignore it, or at least not see it.
Minutes later, the coracle bumped gently into the dock. Cunk steadied the boat as we stepped out. "You move! Move how?"
I shrugged. "We needed help, so I guess I asked the bog."
Cunk looked again and apparently saw the undulations of the plant life. "Ha! Bog paddle for you! Boggy paddle! Ha ha!" Bess' lips rolled up, stifling a laugh. Nearly stifling. "Boggy paddle", she repeated, with a pained grown from a bit of wordplay.
"Cunk? Can you keep these mushrooms safe until I can retrieve them?"
"No. Will take. You go. They come."
That was unexpected! "Thank you! Can I offer you something in exchange?"
"Yes"
Ummm... I wasn't sure what to say. So I asked what he might like.
"Later. Not now."
Right! That was something to work out later. For now, it was time to get back.
To hear the narration and learn how I put the episode together, check out the video:
*****
I don't normally leave an entry on a cliffhanger but I did in my last one. And at the time I did wonder what the night would bring! It had already been a day full of learning new things, seeing new places, being chased by an entirely new (to me, anyway) creature... so no wonder if I wondered what else would happen or be revealed! And to be fair, a couple of things were revealed after that last entry (and something that had happened that I didn't squeeze into my journal last time).
MouseEye told me about the nature of flying brooms, especially the old ones. The newer ones are made for anyone to fly - they're quite generic. But the old ones - they were built in a way that, if you didn't resonate with it, it'd present as a perfectly ordinary broom, or at least as a "nothing-particularly-special" flying broom. How awesome it is that this old broom, Vapour Trail, did resonate with me.
Speaking of the broom, and Pop... throughout the night, Pop (the one attached to Vapour Trail) continued to divide and flow and morph. It was like watching festive lights multiply and grow all over a tree! The handle now glows, very gently, with all of its twisted, knotted, mottled glory. The entirety of her bristles now also glow amber and there are definitely far more "light bristles" than there were original ones. The overall result is just... completely magical! I have to share with Pip - maybe this is a way to keep Pop O'Locks safe in whatever dimensions they exist!
However, reality also came knocking and reminded me that, while flying fast and high in the open sun can be fun, it's also a source of skin burn. Sun burn, wind burn... oof, my skin wasn't happy! It took a couple of days for a lovely brown tan to develop. The colour is reminiscent of smooth tree bark!
During the couple of days that I took it easy, waiting for my skin to recover, MouseEye gave me a note from Pip! I grinned when I saw it, then grimaced when my cheeks pushed their burned selves up, then groaned when the grimace creased those same burnt areas!
Note to Self - I need a salve for this!
But back to the note. I read it and... I learned something new.
My dearest bestest friend Sweet
Your world sounds like a scary place. I can't imagine living through all of the adventures you've shared with me. You are so brave. Sweet the Brave!!!
My life is much quieter than yours, thankfully, but your life sounds more like an adventure book! Mine would be more of a "how to avoid..." I'm more of a hide and run than hide and seek person. :)
I'm happy to hear Pop is doing so well. She is extinct in most dimensions (of the here not here). I'm hoping ours survive - thrive and breed!
How did you learn to write poetry? I love reading yours.
MouseEye has been visiting often - she does love chocolate chunky chip cookies especially fresh from my oven. LOL. I'm sending some for you too. (If none arrive, you know who swiped them) LOL.
Love Your best bestie
Pip
Pip called me adventurous! Me! I had to laugh. No, Pip, I'm not adventurous, but they do seem to find me regardless! And she said she likes my poetry! Well... I'll have to write one. I just need to think what about. Or maybe I can write one about how MouseEye seems to have developed a keen interest in chocolate chunky chip cookies! Apparently Pip sent them with this letter but they didn't arrive. Or... they did but I just never got them!
When I read the bit about the cookies, I looked over the letter at where MouseEye was sitting, looking all cute and innocent. But I think he felt my glare because he opened his eyes, gave a weak smile, belched a chocolate-laden burp, patted his tummy, then closed his eyes again. Little scamp! Cookie thief!
Ah - to heck with it - I can't stay mad at him for long. But I did say I'd appreciate at least one cookie next time. He made a sound back that could have been agreement, or a light snore, or perhaps even something less polite.
I do remember seeing him eating a cookie in Pip's pocket while I dreamed that night after being under the effects of the mushroom spores. I wonder just how much of that experience was real? I'm guessing more of it than I'd guessed.
Anyway, I was finally feeling good again after recovering from my burn, ready to take on the day, whatever it might bring, embrace the fullness of...
"Somebody's coming down the path."
... the... fullness of... *sigh* ... time to breathe, time to relax, time to trust in myself, whatever may happen, embrace the fullness of the spirit of the cottage and grounds and...
*Knock knock* "Hello? Mistress Sweetwater?"
I opened my eyes when I recognized the voice. Cornelius McTwitter, the physician of High Rannoc, here.
"Mistress?"
But there was something wrong with his voice. It was like he was talking around something. I opened the door as he was starting to turn away. "Ah! Good! Mistress. I'm so glad you're in."
"Doctor", I responded politely. -ish. I mean... he wants to kick me out of my cottage and turn the grounds into some sort of "health resort", whatever that is.
"I... ah... can I come in?" And then he smiled, revealing a broken tooth. I stepped out of the way and indicated a seat.
"How did your tooth end up broken?"
He gave a wan smile. "It's... there's quite the thing happening in town. Have you heard?"
"Are you referring to the supposed relationship between myself and the mayor?"
"Not exactly that, but that is part of it. High Rannoc is abuzz about the rumoured affair, some defending you, some attacking, and many just listening raptly, soaking up the, and pardon me for saying, entertainment value. Bob was targeted by some people for having sold you that magnificent broom you flew out on the other day. Anyway, things were getting pretty animated, people began grabbing and swinging heavy things, and my tooth and I met one of those heavy things on a backswing. I dosed myself with pain killers and am now here, hoping you can set my tooth aright."
I took a look in the book and there was a recipe for Shattered Tooth. And I had everything in house. I did consider, briefly, going out to collect reagents and letting the doctor sit and stew, but instead I decided to make a potion now. And to ask a few questions while I worked.
"The mayor did mention to me that you are interested in taking the cottage and converting it into some sort of health spot." It was a statement on the surface but a question at its heart.
"When I first was here and you treated me, I must admit that my mind couldn't accept that you'd cured me. And so efficiently and effectively. I blame that on my bias against nature-based medicines, which I was taught in my medical school in Imperial City. "Treat the humours, not the body!" was an oft-repeated asservation."
"A what?"
"A... it was something the instructors would say but never provide evidence that it was correct. We all learned it as more an article of faith than of science."
"And then you came here, and..."
"And you showed me just what a fool I was! You brew a potion and almost instantly the patient is cured. I am aware you helped young Robert, our town's adventurer."
I'd had the Rat Spit on a low boil and added it to the Vampire Venom and Slimeshell (both raw) and now let it sit and cool. "So you don't want to take over here?"
"Goodness, no! I say you should provide your kind of care here in your cottage and I'll provide mine safely behind city walls."
"So why did the mayor say he wants me out and you in here?"
The doctor shook his head. "I don't know. But I'm not interested in displacing you."
I handed over the cup. "You'll want to kick this back in one go. Swirl it in your mouth before you swallow."
He accepted gratefully and did as I asked.
"Look, you are part of the medical... team, if I may be so bold to say. You provide your services and I provide mine and that way High Rannoc citizens can be as healthy as they can be." And then he added, "Oooh... it tingles."
As he opened his mouth, I could see the tooth regenerating. It's one thing to get rid of someone's bad breath with a potion, but it's something else entirely to see a tooth growing. Literally growing.
"I have to ask - are you still trying to get an animated skeleton?"
He grimaced at that one. "No - I've learned my lesson. I have an ordinary skeleton and I point to where I need to direct attention. I figured if you don't need one, neither do I!"
"It should be another few minutes. Try to not rub your tongue over the tooth."
"This is extraordinary. Had someone come to me with a broken tooth, I'd've been pulling it out and perhaps replacing it with some sort of bone. Elephant, perhaps."
I decided to ask one last question before the tooth was fully healed. "Any idea who's helping the rumour along? Is the mayor saying drunken things again?"
Cornelius looked serious this time. "That's... quite a thought... I hadn't considered that there'd be someone adding fuel to the flame, so to speak. I mean, you know the nature of rumours and how they morph and change - enlarge, I suppose, you could say - and that's something I think everyone partakes in. But you're asking about someone being malicious about it. I don't think so. The mayor is saying nothing but looking rather smug, his wife is crying that another woman has led him astray, the teachers and staff are tittering at each other. I just don't know."
"What was that about the mayor's wife?"
"Oh, apparently the mayor's been accused of straying from the marital bed in the past."
"Ah." Something didn't feel right, but I wasn't sure what it was. So I decided to let the doctor know how much he owed (Forty silver! Because it was a harder potion) and move on with the day.
The thought of people getting violent, let alone spreading vicious rumours about me, was uncomfortable. I needed some time away again. Exercise in the bog had been one solution, retail therapy leading to a trip to The Cloud Isles had been another. Today, I wanted to walk among the trees in Glimmerwood Grove. We, MouseEye and I, could spend a day doing it, maybe gathering a thing or two, and maybe... hey! We can visit that elf that MouseEye had found the other day! Fun!
"MouseEye, what do you think about a day trip visit to the elf you visited the other day? Fun, right?"
He just froze and had this... look... that said so much and none of it good. I kept looking at him. He gave me a weak smile back. "Must we?"
"Just out of curiosity, what would cause any concern about visiting the elf? It sounded like he was eager for visitors."
MouseEye's face was frozen. Through closed lips I got a mumbled, noncommittal sound.
Deep breaths, count to ten, tell myself that some day I'll find the funny in this situation, release. "How about this? If we go visit the elf, do you think we'll be welcomed?"
Another noncommittal sound.
"Ok, great. Well, I'm off. It'd be great if you came along to guide me to the elf, rather than have me wander around trying to find him, but if it's going to be, for whatever reason, impractical for you to accompany me, I fully and non-judgementally understand."
"I guess..."
"I mean, if whatever happened between you and the elf is going to be a hinderance to helping guide me there, then it's completely fine that you not come."
"Yes, I..."
"Because in your telling of the tale, and I am heavily referring to your use of both the words for the long appendage that is part of you and a synonym for a story, you were so amazingly clever that you won the elf's favour."
"Well... I did..."
"So off I go and I won't come home until I've met the elf for myself, if for no other reason than to get his side of the story."
MouseEye just closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then said, "I may have... ummm... overstated... ahhh... the elf's appreciation of my verbal trick."
I crossed my arms. "How overstated?"
"Ummm... he may refer to me as a cheat and a thief."
"So he wasn't amused when you..."
"Ahhh... no."
That cemented my determination. "Great! Then we'll head over there and make amends."
"Must...?"
The "I" petered off. I think MouseEye might have swallowed it.
"Yes. We must. If nothing else, I want to be a good neighbour."
*sigh* "Ok."
And that was that. Off we headed. MouseEye sat on my shoulder the entire way.
The trip was quiet, which suited me just fine. I rehearsed apologies, thought of ways to treat this ancient being that might be appropriate (having no idea of any customs that he might expect me to know, I wondered if I could fake it well enough), and tried to keep issues that might be brought up in mind so that I wouldn't be speechless at any point. It was a lot to think in a short time!
As we got closer to the location of the elf's court, we started to hear a voice, complaining, and apparently in some amount of pain. I sped up, wondering what in the world could be wrong.
The brambles that had obscured the entrance to the courtyard had been ploughed over by something. Certainly something big! And not at all concerned by the prickles of the bushes. I stepped through and a lot more made sense. In the middle of the courtyard laid a sphinx. And not just any sphinx - it was the one I'd encountered a few weeks back. He was bleeding from an open wound in his chest. Kneeling next to him was an elf, speaking softly, tending to him. He glanced up as MouseEye and I strode in, then stood up angrily.
"I have no time to deal with you, thief. But you are not welcome here. And anyone who accompanies you is equally barred. Begone!"
I glanced at MouseEye sternly. He gave me a helpless shrug back.
"Sir, I'm aware my familiar gave offence earlier and I'm here hoping to heal the rift from that, but I see someone in need of aid. May I be of service?"
He looked at me in annoyance, waved us away, and went back to the sphinx.
Feeling bolder than I had any right to feel, I walked up to the two figures, laid my hand on the sphinx's shoulder, and vowed to return quickly with a healing potion. He thanked me, then said something about never going back, then went back to moaning in pain.
I mentally ran through options for a cure and hit on one - Surgeon Sap. We needed to find a particular tree - a Nurse Willow - and given how thirsty willows can be, I headed towards the boundary between the forest and the bog.
It took a couple of trees to find the right kind and one that had sap congealing on its bark. I gathered a blob then returned to the sphinx.
Re-entering the courtyard, I heard the sphinx breathing easier although the chest wound was still oozing. The elf was chanting something. He looked up and I held up the sap. He nodded for me to approach.
If I'd been at home, I would've heated the sap to allow a portion to be placed, like a poultice, over the wound. Instead, I just had the sphinx swallow the sap whole. It's a little bit sweet so I think that helped it go down.
The wound began to heal as we watched, first drying up, then starting to close. The elf stopped his chant (it was something to ease pain) and the sphinx soon became his healthy self once more.
"I believe I owe you all an explanation.", said the now standing sphinx. "I staggered here from my perch in search of help. You see, I'm a sphinx and by tradition we ask a riddle to anyone who approaches. And by tradition, you can pass if you get the riddle right and you are eaten if you get it wrong. Thanks, however, to the generous nature of the witch before me, I learned that other penalties can be applied, such as the teaching of a new riddle. Which I welcomed because, like I said before, I'm a vegetarian. Anyway, an adventurer approached earlier today. I posed, he answered incorrectly, but instead of teaching me a new riddle, he mocked me! As I began to scold him for his attitude, he stabbed me! He ran off and I made my way here. And thanks to you both, I'm right as rain.
"But I'm never going back to that pedestal. Instead of blocking people from travelling forwards, I'm going to... I'm not sure what."
The noble elf looked thoughtful. "You may reside here with me. I believe we can trade stories for riddles. What say you?"
"Does a bear poop in the woods?"
The elf paused. "And perhaps we can study various forms of riddles and thereby increase your repertoire." He then looked at me. "You, I believe, are Mistress Sweetwater. Your actions were honourable. You are welcome to return here whenever you wish. As for your familiar... I'll consider his debt to me settled once he has told me two stories, not "tales", over the next week."
MouseEye started. "I owed you one!"
The elf answered. "Interest and penalties."
MouseEye shrugged. "Ok. As for the first tale..."
"Let's do this properly. We should sit back, enjoy refreshments, and allow this story to be savoured properly."
I'll say this about what followed - it was an event! MouseEye took centre stage and not only told his stories but acted them out. He did the voices, he brought settings to life, he... let's just say he brought the house down. Twice. And as for the "refreshments" the elf provided... I figured we'd have something refreshing to drink or something like that, but what was served was beyond anything I'd ever had before. Maybe it's because I'd never had Elvish food and this bit of refreshment in the Elvish world was simply that, but I found it simply amazing.
Anyway, whatever bad blood that had existed before was now well and done. Elf and mouse complimented each other, I breathed a sigh of relief, the sphinx trundled off to his new lodgings, and I took that as a cue to excuse myself. All in all, a lovely day.
And it remained lovely despite the fact that somewhere in all this I decided Fen needed a friend. A Princess Toad, to be exact. Why I thought it was a good idea... I don't know! But I did and so off MouseEye and I went in search of one.
We did find Princess Toads. Eventually. There weren't many around and those we did find... well, you can't simply grab them! You have to ask if they'd like to leave their current situation and come join me in mine. To which they all replied, "No, thank you."
You can't argue with that!
We went home, tired but happy. It'd been a busy day. MouseEye settled under the spirit house and I... I was still mentally awake. So I decided to write a response to Pip.
I addressed it To Pip, Here Yet Not Here and sent it From Sweet, Here Yet Not Here
Dear Pip,
Thank you for your kind gift of your chocolate chunk cookies. I'd like to say they were delicious, that they paired nicely with the tea I was drinking. Perhaps MouseEye, when he next sees you, can tell you that they were. Since he's the only one who knows! (The little mischief maker didn't even leave a crumb for me!)
Your cookies may be delightful
And I may be more insightful
Were it not for a mouse
Who lives in my house
Who can apparently eat a plateful!
I think it's funny that you think I'm so adventurous! Not true! But they do have a way of finding me. So rather than me being adventurous, I'd say adventures are Sweet-er-ous!
Pop, by the way, has divided into two! And one of her is now part of the ancient broom I just bought! It's like a holiday-lit broom now!
Your best bestie,
Sweet
I figured I'd ask my little half-truth telling, cookie-addicted familiar to deliver it in the morning. But no sooner had I sealed up the letter, I heard a SNAP! That... I'd heard that sound before, during my dream. And the one who'd SNAPped me then had been a small owl...
"Name's Birdie. We needed to talk so here I am. Stay out of my world and I'll stay out of yours. Now give me that note.
"Good talk."
SNAP
And she was gone. What the...? That was... wow. Poor Pip!
I took a second (more like many minutes) to sit and breathe and find my centre again. Then for good measure I went and gave MouseEye a quick peck on the head, and then decided it was time to go to bed.
To hear the narration and the explanation of how I put the episode together, check out the video:
*****
"Good morning. Sleep well?"
I have to admit that I love to linger in bed in the morning, to have daylight move from soft pink glow to bright white that pours in through the window. There's a warmth, a peace, a serenity that exits early in the day, the quality of which is unmatched at any other time. And stretched out in bed, relaxed, with all the cares of the world not knocking on my door or tapping me on the shoulder - it's heaven. So for my eyes to report a very bleary yet very alert familiar sitting on my chest, eyes bright and whiskers twitching away, wasn't welcome. But I wasn't awake enough to complain. Much.
"Whazzy?" I also managed to stretch and yawn in accompaniment to my brilliant question.
MouseEye stayed firmly fixed as I made motions to get up. "Have you checked in on Fen lately?"
I stopped stretching and was insta-awake. "What? Is he ok?"
"Mmm hmm. But you should check on him." There was still this energy, this eagerness, that MouseEye was annoyingly radiating.
"Ok... so if it's not an emergency, I think I'll take my time, eat some breakfast, then walk over."
"Must you?"
I closed my eyes, took a breath, counted to ten, then tried again. "How about if I skip my pleasant, start-of-the-day activities and instead walk over to check on Fen."
"Great idea! I'll see you there!" And with that, he leapt off of me and landed... not in the cottage. *sigh* I don't know if I'll ever get used to his disappearing trick.
Since I was essentially being rushed out to check in on Fen in a non-emergency situation, I tossed on a nightshirt, slipped on some shoes, and headed for Fen's place.
Fen, the Fentoad who'd come home with me after a bog goblin attack, had settled in nicely next to the little stream where I gather water. A huge tree grows there, creating shade under its huge canopy. I can see myself spending a lot of time there during the heat of summer.
The net result was that I would collect water from there and would sometimes see Fen. I hadn't seen him for a couple of days, so my level of concern was high, despite MouseEye's assurance that nothing was amiss with him.
It's a relaxing short walk to the stream and tree - a couple of minutes most days. Today's trip was shorter because I was walking quickly. As I approached, I started calling Fen's name, hoping he'd hop out and let me know everything was ok.
I called.
Fen hopped out.
I smiled in relief.
Fen looked up into the tree.
I followed his gaze.
My jaw dropped.
MouseEye appeared in the tree with a big grin. Then disappeared again. But far from laughing with him, I was busy picking my jaw up off the ground.
You see... on a large bough, and leaning against the trunk, sat a man. An older man. A quite large older man. A half-naked (in only underthings), quite large, older man. Snoring.
A bewildering array of questions began to demand access to my now quite alert thinking apparatus. Who is he? Why is he here? Why are his shirt and trousers lying on the ground? And how did he get up there? I mean... it'd be hard for me to climb up there, so how...?
I approached. Slowly. Cautiously. "Hello? Sir? Hellooooo!" Then I stepped back a few paces.
I watched as he woke up. He somehow simultaneously nearly lost his balance, cradled his head, and made as if he was going to be sick. "Oooooh, my head.", he groaned. I called up again. "Hello, sir!"
"Please, not so loud. I'm... ooooohhhh..."
"Are you unwell?"
"It's only that I feel like death. And... where am I?"
I told him. He nodded, then leaned his head back against the tree again.
"Did you eat or drink something that didn't agree with you?"
"Eat? No. Drink? I don't think I had that much last night..."
Ok - make that a very hungover, half-naked, quite large, older man. "Sir? Let me see what I have in the cottage for hangovers. I'll be back in a minute."
He just groaned again.
As I made my way to the cottage, MouseEye reappeared on my shoulder, laughing. I don't understand why someone suffering from a hangover can be seen as so funny to some. So I asked him. He shrugged. "It's... well... it's funny."
"How are we going to get him down from there? Because him falling and possibly breaking a bone won't be funny at all."
MouseEye just laughed again. "We? I'm not sure how a mouse is supposed to be of help with this issue."
"I was hoping you'd have an idea for getting him down. I wasn't suggesting you sling him over your shoulder and bodily carry him down."
MouseEye shrugged. "He got up there. I'm sure he can get down. Just like a cat can, you know?"
As we'd been talking, I'd looked up hangovers in the old witch's book. Crow Coal - the first reagent I'd ever picked up, was perfect. I brewed up two cups of tea, added crushed Crow Coal into one, and headed back.
The man was still in the tree.
"Sir", I called up, "I've got a remedy for your hangover here. But you're going to have to get yourself down from there."
"I have no idea how I got up here, but I suppose if I managed it, I can get myself down. Stand clear." I watched as he manoeuvred himself one way, then the other, then stopped. "It might be easier if I had my clothes. The bark is sure to hurt otherwise."
I tossed up his clothes. They were relatively clean but did stink of smoke and drink. As he struggled to put them on, I asked, "Why did you take your clothes off last night?"
"I don't remember taking them off. But I can only guess I worked up a sweat getting up here. I'm glad to have them now - it's quite chilly."
Whether the chill was from the coolness of the stream or another symptom of the hangover, I wasn't sure. But it was good to see that he managed to dress himself, more or less. That could only help to make him more comfortable and pad against injuries from his disembarking from the branch.
He took a minute to rest, then tried getting down again. It was awkward and probably not the way he got up there, but a bit of effort and a bunch of gravity did the trick. I should add that it was good he was wearing clothes - the scrapes he would've gotten, in rather delicate places, would've hurt something fierce.
After his pseudo-fall, he just lay there, groaning. While I felt for him, it was also difficult to feel too badly for him - he was the one who'd gotten drunk, wandered onto my property, climbed the tree, and spent the night there underdressed. So after waiting for what I thought was an adequate amount of time, I strode over and handed him his "enriched" tea.
He took a sip, made a face, then set it aside. "Gah! What's that taste? Don't you have any wine? Beer? Something that doesn't taste like ashes?"
Now... I knew I had honey at my disposal but I opted not to use it. Instead, I just told him that the only way the potion would work was if he downed it all in one go. He made a face at me, grimaced at the cup, clearly contemplated deliberately spilling it, then held his nose and downed it. I sipped my tea as the medicinal one worked its healing magic.
As I continued to sip, his groaning stopped and his body uncoiled, no longer trying to hold itself still. I still hadn't finished my cup by the time he was standing upright, looking far less gray, and not in imminent danger of vomiting. In fact, he looked at the stream almost eagerly. "Would you mind if I...?" He gestured towards the water.
I shrugged. "Come to the cottage when you're done. I'll have a warm towel ready so you can dry off."
As I carried the empty cups back home, I heard the telltale splashing of someone bathing. Knowing my latest patient was occupied, I looked for (and found) MouseEye, who jumped from a low-hanging branch onto my shoulder. "Do you know who that is?"
"Mmm hmm."
"Care to share?"
"Mmm... no."
"And may I know why you won't share?"
"Mmm... no."
Sometimes I wonder what life would've been like if our roles were reversed, with me as the familiar and MouseEye as the witch. Would I find as much pleasure in withholding information as a certain rodent finds it? But since something like that happening was about as likely as a tree growing upside down, I don't usually dwell on the thought. But today was an unusual day.
I got a towel heated, as promised, and then puttered about until my mystery patient arrived to warm up. It didn't take long for him to arrive - the stream runs cold. And eventually he was sitting in front of the fire, bundled, and finally in a condition where he was ready to talk.
I decided to start off. "I'm..."
"Mistress Sweetwater, the current witch and occupant of this witch's cottage. Although that wasn't the name you used when first you were enrolled in the Herbology School." He looked at me, watching to see how I'd react to his knowing all that about me. I managed to not react.
"You have the advantage of me. Please tell me who you are."
He sat up straighter, trying to look more impressive. "I'm the Lord Mayor of High Rannoc."
Now things were starting to strike me as funny. The Lord Mayor of High Rannoc was sitting in front of my fire, steam gently rising from his head, wrapped in a towel. I started giggling.
"What is so funny, young lady? I'm a highly respected figure in this community! Whereas you - I've heard a thing or two about you!"
That stopped the giggles and brought out the outrage. "What was funny was seeing you, the Lord Mayor, warming yourself in front of my fire after washing off the last of last night's excess. What is no longer funny is you threatening me in my home, particularly after brewing you a potion. So now, if the Lord Mayor would deign to pay the witch the twenty silver due, he may then leave."
He didn't seem to hear me. "Madam Wintergleam says you lack discipline and decorum, that you lack the character needed to be a witch..."
"How would she know what's needed? All those students are trapped inside the School's walls!"
"... to the degree that you assaulted a current student of the School, nearly piercing his... uhh... tender bit..."
"In self-defence after he assaulted me!"
"... and, from what I've seen, you lack the requisite requirements to inhabit this cottage..."
"So who's trying to toss me out?"
"... I think I'll grant the doctor his request to take over here and turn it into a health-retreat centre."
"The doctor. Of course."
Things got awfully quiet at that point. I was ready to do something... something... I had no idea what I was ready to do, but the one thing I wasn't going to do was back down. For his part, he... he wasn't angry. Or even emotional. He was just watching for me to do or say something stupid. Like cry. Or beg. Neither was going to happen,
"Ahem." We both turned towards the mantlepiece. MouseEye was standing on his hind feet. "I do believe, Oliver Chutney..."
"Lord Mayor of High Rannoc.", said the Lord Mayor of High Rannoc.
"... that you are currently sitting, cured of your hangover, inside a cottage that was deeded to itself. Meaning you have no authority to do anything to my Mistress, this residence, or these grounds. Further, while you can cherry pick opinions that aren't favourable to my Mistress, I think you'll find that the only opinion here concerning you is currently quite negative. And if it were revealed just how inebriated you were last night, how hungover you were this morning, and that you spat upon the current witch's hospitality, care, and cure, I think you'll lose what little respect people have for you. And trust me when I say I'll make sure that becomes the talk of the town."
It got quiet again. I tried my best to not tear up as MouseEye defended me. Instead, I just stood upright, haughty even, with a small grin on my face.
"I take it this is Mortimer? I believe there's more to the elaborate name that Madam Hightower's domestic..."
"Francie", I supplied.
"... couldn't quite remember."
MouseEye bowed.
Oliver looked back and forth at MouseEye and I. "You're quite the formidable pair. And yes, I've heard good things too. So how about this - we don't talk about my whereabouts or condition over the last twenty-four hours and I'll leave you in peace and allow you to do your work as you see fit."
I translated his offer in my head. He'll give me what I already have in exchange for maintaining patient confidentiality, which he already has? I shot a questioning look at MouseEye with a small shrug of acceptance. He did the same back.
"Accepted. But you will pay for that hangover cure before you leave."
He raised his hands in surrender, then one sought out his money pouch. As the coins were placed on the table, the Mayor said, "I'm glad High Rannoc has a strong and knowledgable witch. And, frankly, quite scary when riled. I trust you'll remember our agreement?"
I simply nodded.
He nodded back. "Good day to you. Mistress. Mortimer." And he left.
I waited impatiently for ten minutes to pass before the primal scream that'd been brewing was allowed out. While there were words of rage and frustration in there, mostly it was just white-hot pure emotion that poured forth. That felt good to just let it release! And after a wash in the cold stream and then a thaw in front of the fire, I felt... renewed. Still angry, but fresh and capable and strong. And then I found MouseEye, got him into the palm of my hand, and kissed his head.
He blushed, I think!
"So... ummm... what else shall we do today?", he asked.
I needed to work out my frustrations with more than just one good lungful of vocal release. I needed a walk - no - more than that. I needed full body exertion. I needed some time out in nature. And if it meant I could gather a reagent or two, I'd take that as part of the package deal.
I needed to spend some time with Miss Bogfire in Blastfire Bog. At the very least I could replenish my Crow Coal.
Crow Coal. The first reagent I'd ever gathered had just been used. Gosh - that was a trigger to some self-reflection! The me of eight weeks ago had gathered something, having no clue that the me of today would use it as a hangover remedy. Funny how that worked out.
I rushed through the remaining bits of my morning routine so that I could be gone for as long as I could manage. Or at least for as long as I wanted. Who knows - the me of an hour from now might be very ready to come back to the cottage!
As we walked to Cunk's Landing - my name for the dock next to the industrious bog goblin who made, not just Miss Bogfire, but all of her watercraft siblings - I wondered how MouseEye had known so much about the legal status of the cottage and the current political climate for the mayor. I knew if I asked I'd be told that he watches. I guess what I really wanted to know is not so much what he watches but how he does. How can he know about things that he, presumably, wasn't here for.
What else has he watched? Or... correction to that last question... what else does he know? Does he know about my life prior to being a witch? Does he know about the old witch? Does he know Pip?
I suppose as time and tide dictate, I'll find out. Or not!
The walk to the Bog did me good. My head was clearer, my body warmed up and ready to go for a paddle, and my sense of adventure was prepped to head out and explore.
Cunk too was in a good mood when I arrived at the dock. "Ha! You here! Good day! Sun here! Fish jump! Good day!" Together we put my coracle in the water. As I paddled down a channel, Cunk waved before setting to work again.
Trusting that MouseEye could direct me home, I just went where my mood sent me - through wide open channels one minute, then down nearly choked off passages the next. It was maybe a couple of hours before I decided that I needed a bit of a break and headed for a piece of dry land dominated by a tall tree. The shade was super inviting!
Pulling my boat up and securing it to the huge trunk ensured my boat - and my only way back home (absent a very mucky and long swim) was secure. I laid back, watched the clouds, and enjoyed the peace and quiet.
I breathed in the sun and breathed out anger. I breathed in serenity and breathed out disquiet. I breathed in light and breathed out grey smoke. Not literally, of course! In all of this, I may have dozed off. Probably dozed off. I... dozed off. MouseEye says I snored loud enough to prevent anyone else from catching a few zzz's.
What finally brought me out of my revery was the cawing of crows who'd just flown onto a branch of the tree. When I looked up at them, I spotted the nest I'd missed seeing before now. This might be a chance to get some coal!
Unlike the last time when I'd been lucky enough to spy some on the ground, this time I was going to have to negotiate with these birds. The thing to know about crows is that they are some of the most obnoxious and rude birds around. The only reason harpies have the rotten reputation that they do is that they speak human. Crows don't bother speaking in any other language but their own and can still leave you feeling massively insulted.
I managed to climb up to a level where I could converse with the birds and did my best to ask for some of their crow coal. I offered to do a trade. I said I could recite poetry or sing a song. I...
They started cawing viciously. There was no physical threat, but did they let me have it verbally. I'd guarded against exactly this, but still, some words, some feelings, got through. Whoever it was that said that sticks and stones can break bones but words can't hurt you never met crows.
I did eventually get the coal because a crow, in frustration at my not leaving, flung it at me. Correction - towards me. If it'd been at me, it might've been ok. I could've caught it or somehow trapped it with my body. But the throw was only roughly in my direction. In my excitement of trying to catch it (which I did - yay me), I over-leaned and fell off the branch.
Luck was with me in that I fell onto a soft landing spot - a rotting soft log that kept me from landing heavily on the ground. The giant puff of mushroom spores that erupted out of the log was like a fog. And I breathed in a giant lungful.
Of a sudden, I was both myself and yet something more. I suppose I became a part of the mushroom network, seeing and feeling and knowing things about the Bog that I had no other way of knowing. I sensed individual plants growing, troops of ants bringing home food from distant lands along well-worn tracks, roots seeking water and nutrients and the pumping of vital fluids along stalks, branches, and trunks. I was a part of the Bog and it was a part of me. Harmonized being. Oneness. Totality.
Somewhere in all that, I felt a gentle yet insistent tapping on my right cheek. "Sweet? We need to get moving. It's getting late."
I opened my eyes and met the concerned look of MouseEye. "Are you ok?"
I took a deep breath, then remembered what happened on my last deep breath. MouseEye seemed to know my concern. "It's safe. I think you've made sure that there won't be any new mushrooms anywhere near here. A kilometre or two away? Yes. But not here." He smiled as he said it. I believe it was a smile of relief.
Broken pictures of the vision I'd had kept forcing their way into my consciousness. I started to get up, perhaps too quickly. "Take your time. You're awake and that's good. But take a minute before we do anything else."
I forced myself to take that needed minute, but I wasn't happy doing it. I felt the need to move. I had to move. There were things I wanted to do, needed to do, before I lost all memory of what I'd seen.
Going to Miss Bogfire, I untied her, jumped in, and started to get ready to paddle. "I'd offer to get us home, but, you know..." MouseEye held up his little mouse arms and flexed his paws.
"It's ok. I know where I'm going." And we set off. Deeper into the bog.
"Ummm... home's that way." MouseEye pointed to a channel I wasn't going to go down.
"Yup. I know. But we're going this way." I paddled with what felt like the strength of ten strong men.
"Okay?" MouseEye started to nervously flit around on the boat, looking this way and that, clearly unsure of what I was up to. To be honest, I wasn't sure of what I was doing either. I just felt the need to paddle. The coracle seemed to know the way.
We headed deeper and deeper into the bog until we nearly reached a place where Bog and Glimmerwood Grove met. I hopped out, almost forgot to tie off the line, then sprinted towards a grove of oak trees.
MouseEye got there first. "Here's some Shieldcap. Although why we needed to come all the way here I'm sure I don't know." I ignored him and swept passed. I wouldn't talk. I knew what I was looking for was close. It took a few minutes of digging through undergrowth to pull out my prize: Amethyst Antlers. It was a huge rack. The ancient deer that dropped these must have been magnificent.
MouseEye just gasped. "How did...? I mean... whaa...?"
I heard him stammer his questions but I couldn't answer. The feeling of another reagent somewhere else in the bog was calling to me; answering MouseEye's questions would've broken the spell. I just hauled the antlers into the coracle and made ready to paddle. What vision of the here and now I had showed me MouseEye still standing by the Shieldcaps, arms crossed, muttering to himself. I couldn't wait but didn't want to leave him behind so I jumped out, grabbed semi-blindly at both my confused familiar and the mushrooms (I somehow grabbed both), raced back to the boat, and we headed off again.
"Where are we headed now...?" Looking back, I've never heard MouseEye sound so uncertain. It would've been hysterical if I hadn't been so focused on the next destination. All I could manage was a quick shake of the head, asking that questions be held until the appropriate Q&A period. Which wasn't now.
I paddled, the coracle steered, the sun set.
I paddled, the coracle steered, the night deepened.
I paddled, the coracle landed on a bit of land, the shadows cast by the rising moon shaped the darkness into fuzzy blobs of midnight outlined by silvery glints of dew covered foliage.
I stumbled out and pretty much beelined towards a large tree. I sloshed and splashed, heedless of what was in my way, whether plant, animal, or water channel (thankfully nothing too deep - although I did go waist-high on one step). While I didn't know what they were called then, I now know they were Gronblut Limpets. And within their thick shells (which were open to allow the moonlight in) sat Midnight Morsels. I scooped some out, stored them in my kit, and then felt the raging fire of need and motivation drain out of me. I was exhausted, trembling, absolutely knackered.
MouseEye appeared on my shoulder and to his credit talked me back to Miss Bogfire (even leading me down a much better path that involved a lot less immersion!)
At the boat, I was a mess. I wanted to go home but didn't have the strength to even attempt it. MouseEye talked me though getting into the coracle and pushing off. I more or less collapsed into the bottom of the boat. "You sleep. We'll be fine. I'll keep watch.", I remember hearing him say.
And then... I think I was dreaming. Or maybe it was more than a dream. It started with me in my cottage (it's still a bit strange to claim ownership of it), sitting in front of the fire with the spirit house sitting on the mantlepiece. And as I watched, the spirit house got closer and closer, bigger and bigger, until I was in it, through it... and looking out the other side. At the inside of a cottage that looked a bit like mine, but wasn't. And a girl, my age, maybe, but not me, talking to three ducks (named Mabel, Judy, and Julie). As I looked closer, I saw a familiar mousey-face peer our from a pocket in her clothes, holding a chocolate chip cookie. I gasped, which drew the attention of a small owl who, with a flick of her wing, I felt rather than heard a SNAP. My vision swam for a minute but then I saw yet another similar cottage and yet another witch and yet another setting. And then another. And then another. And another. They began to blur and speed past me, cottages and witches and familiars, all both somewhat familiar but also rather strange.
I awoke with a whimper. My body ached, my head felt woozy, and my nose began informing me that we were still deep in the bog.
"Welcome back." MouseEye's look of concern helped warm my heart. "I'm guessing those mushroom spores did a number on you."
I nodded, stretched, yawned.
"Are you feeling ok?"
I nodded again, then mumbled, "Yeah", then, "I think I'm ready to get us home, if you're up to navigating."
"Ready, willing, and able, Captain."
And thus began the slow and careful trip home in the dark. As I paddled, I figured a bit of conversation would help the time pass. So I told MouseEye about what I'd felt and seen since being dosed with mushroom spores. MouseEye listened politely, asked questions here and there.
When I asked him about his eating what I presumed was one of Pip's chocolate chip cookies, he got a bit quiet. And when I asked him to share with his favourite witch the next time he went there (and certainly not expecting any sort of answer because it had been just a dream, right?) he actually blushed in embarrassment before giving me an abashed, "Must I?"
Here's the video on how I wrote the Here Yet Not Here episoide:
Rainy days. A part of me knows they are absolutely necessary to keep things green and lush. And they tend to keep everyone indoors so there's far fewer chances of anyone doing anything that would end up bringing them here. For me, it meant lingering in bed, then getting a comfortable fire going - a warm dry room against the wet chill outside is just lovely. It was a good time to reflect on the past couple of weeks, to spend some time coming to terms with myself and my witchy role, and getting to know MouseEye better.
I'd made an actual small house on my mantlepiece. It wasn't much - a few sticks, some string to keep the pieces together, and the little things I'd gathered for it. So maybe "house" was too much word for the lean-to it actually was, but on the other hand it was a structure, I'd made it intending for it to be a house, and most importantly, I'd made it. Pride of ownership, pride of craftsmanship. And I should add pride of potionship!
I poured myself a tea then set a second cup under my lean-to. House! My house! My lean house.
And I guess that's a thing too. I did have, again, a bit of money in my pocket. But to be able to afford much more in terms of tools or upgrading of equipment, I'd have to live a bit lean for a time.
No matter - I was used to that sort of living.
Going from having no money - and having little concept of how much things cost - to having money and seeing exactly how much things cost! - back to having a little money - it was all a lot to take in. But I'd bought a hive, an investment I know will pay dividends well into the future, and my next purchases (when I can finally afford them) will do the same. Maybe I didn't know the value of a piece of silver but I did know the value of basic math!
And speaking of math... and things not adding up (nice segue, I think) - there's the matter of the Smooth Croak in my pocket to feed the weird chest thing. I know I hadn't put it there, so there was only one way it'd ended up there - MouseEye. How had he known I'd need it?
After I'd taken some time to just sit and think and do some deep breathing, I asked MouseEye about it.
He was laying under the lean-to (House!!!), eyes half-closed (appropriate for being under a half-house), when I asked the question. His eyes didn't open as he responded. "Getting it into your pocket was simple. You didn't even notice the spoon you walked around with all that day. As to why I put it there... you know how the bees and I talked and we understood each other even though we don't speak each other's languages? It was like that - I just knew I had to do it. So I did. And I think you experienced something of the sort with the bees. Same basic thing."
That was something. Maybe it had something to do with the land? Did it somehow know things ahead of time? Or maybe MouseEye did? I knew there were bound to be surprises related to the cottage but this was more than I'd anticipated!
"Is that how you knew I'd be fine with the sphinx?"
"Mmhmm."
"So what about inside Hero's Hollow? Did you know that was going to happen?"
MouseEye opened his eyes. "I know little bits here and there. I don't know everything. Especially when they go wrong."
"But you knew I'd be ok down there, right? You knew I'd be safe?"
He closed his eyes and didn't answer.
After a minute, I murmured to myself, "I'll take that as a 'no'."
The silence felt awkward. I knew I had a tendency to get angry or snappy or snarky. I decided to surprise myself, if no one else, with some gratitude. "MouseEye, you are amazing. You can see bits of the future and, as much as you can, you help me and my patients. Thank you for everything you do."
I watched as MouseEye peeked up a bit, pressed his front paws together in what I think could be called a Prayer Pose, wiggled his whiskers, and said, "You're welcome, Mistress." And then, instead of settling back down, he looked more attentive.
This was promising! I decided to ask another question. "When you disappear, say in the air balloon with Madcap, you said you don't always stay with me. So... where do you go?"
To his credit, MouseEye didn't answer at first, but instead just looked thoughtful. "It's hard to describe. But I'm glad you asked because it's something that should be shared."
I knew well enough to allow him to speak in his own time. This felt momentous.
"Let's talk about this cottage. The old witch lived in it, maybe will again, maybe not, but in the past she lived here."
I nodded but had no idea where this was going.
"So you came here. You were formerly living in a woodcutter's cottage. Following so far?"
I didn't see why I wouldn't be, but ok. I nodded again.
"What do you think would have happened if somebody else had moved in?"
I had no idea. "Apply to be an apprentice? Go back home? Maybe work with Francie as a domestic?"
MouseEye nodded. "What if you'd never successfully made it here? Like the wagon was attacked by bandits? Or you had to stay home to take care of your ailing father?"
I... what? Ailing father? Was he ok?
"Nonono! I don't know anything about your father, or your mother for that matter. I'm just asking what would've happened to the witch's cottage."
I was drawing blanks.
"It would eventually attract a witch. It's a witch's cottage. At some point a witch would live here."
I nodded slowly.
"Here's where it gets tricky. What if, at roughly the same time, all the possible people who could live in the cottage did live in this cottage."
Tricky. He did say "tricky". But he didn't say "impossible". So I did.
"Well... sort of. Because while you are here and experiencing your life with me, as time goes on there are other witches who are experiencing their lives with their familiars. All at the same time that you are. Unlike most of them, you've just been told that they also live in their cottages, which are their versions of the cottage, and this cottage is your version of the cottage. See?"
Ah... nope. Not at all.
"Ok, how about this - I was at one point, and for a very short period of time, in another version of this cottage."
I know my face was a complete furrowed mess. So much for a relaxing day. Metaphysics was what I'd really intended.
"And I brought something back with me. But I didn't know how to tell you who it's from. So... here..."
Once again, a surprise came out from behind the lean-to. A letter. A small folded up letter. From someone named Pip.
Pip's letter (with a background of my journal)
It said:
Hi I'm Pip
I'm living in this cottage. It's a bit lonely sometimes.
Do you want to be penpals?
Elaborate box for yes. A very plain (and much smaller) box for no.
It was signed "Your new bestie Pip"
And then a PS - please check yes.
And the note was covered in hearts!
A new bestie? Living here but not here?
I looked at MouseEye in amazement. "This person is someone else who...?"
"Mmhmm."
Wow. So... ok.
"Can I send a letter back?"
"Mmhmm."
Ok. So time to grab a bit of paper, a pencil, and...
"Sorry. Almost forgot. Here's this..."
He pulled a reagent I'd never seen before out from where the letter had been. As I looked at it, I asked, "Is there anything else back there I should know about?"
"No. Not yet, anyway."
Not yet? Well... I suppose letters can come through there. Anyway - the reagent. A plant, certainly. Maybe it's...
"Oh yeah - it's called 'Rosemary'. Good for relaxation and something called 'Branching Out'."
I didn't know what to do with it. It isn't in the witch's notes. How...?
MouseEye to the rescue. He saw my confusion. "I think the old witch didn't know everything there is to know. You may find this useful when you need to treat someone who has an affliction not on the list."
Huh. She maybe didn't know everything? The book isn't all there is to witching? I think the ground dropped out from underneath me. Luckily, I was still seated so the ground was close at hand.
The world swirled around me. Other witches, here but not here? Witches sending me letters from here but not here? I...
My hand brushed past my tea cup. Newly filled tea cup. MouseEye, with eyes closed and head resting on his paws, was still up on the mantlepiece.
Surprises indeed.
"MouseEye? If I write a letter to Pip, will you deliver it?"
I expected one answer, but didn't receive it.
"Mmhmm."
This is what I wrote.
Hi Pip! I'm... call me Sweet!
You make lovely hearts. I hope you don't mind if I don't make them too.
I'd love to be your penpal! Tick mark in a Yes box.
And yes, it is lonely being a witch. But a little less so now that I know you are living here yet not here in the cottage (MouseEye tried to explain it to me but I still don't get it.)
