Also Spring, Week 11 - Boggy Paddle

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.  

Spring, Week 8 - Meeting the Mayor

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?"

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.