Also Also, Spring Week 11 - Liberation

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

*****

 I called for Vapour Trail. This time I got an acknowledgment. In the minutes between call and arrival, I gathered the other reagents that I could carry, pulled out Slow and draped her over my neck, then waited a few seconds before the broom arrived in her glowing glory. 

And then I remembered the ability to configure Pop as I needed. So I did. Cunk, after watching in disbelief as the light tower formed into a cargo elevator of sorts, allowing for huge mushroom cap transport, turned to me, slowly. "You witch? Ha! Yes! But not only." He then conspiratorially got in close (and I held my breath as best as I could). "Cunk friend. You remember. Cunk friend." He patted me on the shoulder (hard enough to bruise but not so hard as to knock me off my feet), got the mushrooms loaded, watched as Bess and I got situated, then waved as we flew off. 

It wasn't far to the cottage. "Bess, what was that you were saying in the boat?"

"It can wait until this round of crazy is over and we can talk without interruption. What I want to know is what's the plan for curing your patient?"

I told her.

"Seriously? Oh my goodness, you are serious. No. You aren't doing that alone. I'm coming with."

"But Bess! What are you going to do?"

"Look, there are things you are brilliant at. But in this one, you're going to need help from someone who's brilliant with a different skill set. And that's me."

We'd landed, our familiars had come over and seemed to want our collective attention, but we discussed the plan - no longer simply my plan, but our plan - until we each agreed. Neither of us was completely happy with it, but it was the best we could devise given the situation.

"Sounds complicated." That was MouseEye.

"Foolish, if you ask me. Which no one did." And that was Marvin.

"It's ok, you two. There's no need to be a part of it. You can sit this one out."

"Must I?" was the automatic reply. And then, I think, he realized just what he'd said.

"Well, if you want to be a part of it, that'd be great."

I don't know why, in the middle of all this, I found amusement in watching MouseEye's face wrestle with backing out or continuing on.

"Well... ok. Besides, you'll need me to watch."

"Ok, fine. Leave me behind. Again." Marvin, of course.

A few words of encouragement from Bess later had all four of us taking part in this cure mission.

The potion took a minute to put together. That was the easy part. The anticipated hard part was going to be getting our unwitting patient to drink it.

That's the point of contention that's been causing so much stress and anxiety. We knew (or strongly surmised) that Mrs. Ruffage, in catching Dragon Sickness and gathering students, possibly even just people in general, was somehow sedating them; it was highly unlikely that a large group of people would be unable to force their way to freedom. We could only assume that entering the building was a one-way trip. Unless, of course, we could effect a cure. Which is why it wasn't the potion itself that was the important part but instead the presentation of the potion that was; we had to make sure she drank it. Otherwise, things could get dicey. Bess, bless her, figured that because she was better at steering people to do things, and in particular people acting like a dragon, that she should be involved. I think too, she figured having another set of hands could be useful. MouseEye was another set of eyes and ears (yes, he's also an unreliable agent in all this, but still...). And Marvin... self-titled Smartest Creature on Earth. I had no idea how a talking donkey would be received but it was worth trying. Maybe the sheer confusion he'd introduce would help.

With the potion in a vial and ready to be administered, the four of us walked to High Rannoc. On the way, Bess started mumbling to herself, even trying out a tune. 

"What's that?" I had to ask.

"Hmmm...? Oh... just focusing on what we're doing in the moment and trying to not think about all the ways this could go wrong."

"Oh."

"Yeah. So... right now I've got something like this:

We're off to see the teacher

The magical teacher who's cursed

We hear she is a wiz of a witch

If ever a witch there was"

"You're able to think in songs at a time like this? Amazing!"

"You cope your way. I cope mine."

The laughter that followed was a bit forced and died off quickly. But the interaction was long and absorbing enough to get us to the High Rannoc gates. That were closed.

Camped outside the gates were a couple of travelling merchants. They appeared to have settled in, with a fire going, horses grazing, and tents set up. One merchant looked up.

"Ho there! The gates are closed!"

Just on the edge of hearing, Marvin muttered, "Captain Obvious to the rescue. What's next? 'You looking to go into town?'"

"You looking to go into town?"

"It hurts being right all the time."

As Bess shushed the donkey, I responded. "How long have you been camped out here?"

"Oh, not long. A couple of hours, maybe. Tried getting someone's attention to find out about the gates, but..." He shrugged to finish his statement.

We stared at the gates. I so wanted to just rip rotting boards off the rotting wall but that was more a thought towards my anxiety than a helpful plan. I knew it'd be simple to fly over the wall and open the gate. But... what if that was the point? What if it was a trap? Or what if I was grossly overthinking this?"

"MouseEye?", I asked, knowing the probable answer.

"Mmmhmm?"

Surprise number one - no, wait - this was bigger than a mere number could express - the mouse was still within earshot and willing to answer. "Can you check to see if it's safe on the other side of the gate?"

"Thinking about traps?"

"In this moment, that's all I can think about."

"Okay."

Surprise number... never mind numbering them; MouseEye was actually taking a look when I asked. I was shocked. Relieved! And shocked.

"It's clear", he said a moment later.

With that reassurance, I summoned Vapour Trail. I figured I could load up us four, get into town, and then... I wasn't sure what. At the last minute before the broom arrived, I gave the potion to Bess. "I have a feeling she's going to be focusing on me. So I hope that will give you space to dose her." Bess gulped but then nodded and accepted the vial. 

Although I could've had Vapour Trail land in front of us, I decided it'd be better to have it fly into the palm of my hand with a satisfying smack. The merchants' eyes went white with surprise. "I believe there is danger lurking on the other side of these walls. My friends and I are going to deal with it. When the danger is over, we'll get the gates open for you."

Now it was their turn to mutely nod.

I just wished I was half as confident as I sounded.

It would have been a quick hop over the High Rannoc wall. And, in hindsight, I guess it was. At the same time, as we sailed into the air and cleared the boundary between inside and outside, I found myself seeing a third option - flying into the sky and never coming back. Which, to be honest, hit me. I'd never considered leaving this place but perhaps in some way, shape, or form, I was starting to think in terms of being elsewhere.

But thinking through that thought would have to wait - there was something seriously wrong in town. It couldn't simply be a case of one person's Dragon Sickness.

I landed us in front of the Hightower residence. I figured that since I'd told Francie that I'd alert Madam Hightower that I was about to go to the Herbology School, I should do just that.

No one came to the front door when I knocked. Same at the back entrance. But it was unlocked. I let myself in... and found no one. This wasn't good.

I told Bess what I'd found. Or, hadn't found.

"That's not good."

"I know, right?"

"So what's the plan now? Does it change?"

"I think we're all going to have to be really careful. I'm just not sure what's going to happen."

We stood in silence for a minute. Then Bess said, "You know, if it weren't for the fact that it seems like the whole town could be... abducted, I guess is the right word... I'd be thinking about leaving this place. For now, anyway. And maybe getting some help."

"I hear you. I just don't know who we could enlist in this. And even if I was to seek help, it could take longer than some of those people have left. I mean... we don't know exactly what's happening in the school."

We shared resigned shrugs. And then started to walk towards the school building. We'd find out soon enough just how bad things were.

On the way, I found myself wondering who I could ask for help were I to seek help. The Count and Igor might be willing. I even had Richard's debt of appreciation for the cure I gave him a few weeks ago. The Sphinx might be willing, as might the Noble Elf in Glimmerwood Grove. Even Cunk, perhaps even his brethren, could help. But for each of them, I found a reason why it was impractical.

With each step closer to the school, the reasoning 'we're running out of time' loomed larger. Until we were standing in front of the rather unimpressive unimposing building.

As I approached the door, it opened, revealing the smiling face of the mayor's wife. Now, when I say 'smiling', it wasn't a good smile. Instead, it was self-satisfied, gloating, scary.

What had I walked into?

"Well, hello, Mistress Sweetwater. And you brought friends! Delightful. All of you will make your way inside. Just follow the blubbering cries of Francie. She'll be so happy to see you."

Now... I hadn't considered this. Not that this was at all foreseeable. Not even MouseEye saw it coming - he was on my shoulder when we were confronted. Drat. I did hear Bess direct Marvin in, as if he were an ordinary donkey. And we also heard Francie start calling out, panicked, asking us to not do anything heroic. 

I made my way to the room where Francie was. Behind her, holding a knife to her throat, was Mrs. Ruffage. And next to her was the mayor. In his hands was a doll.

"Well, isn't this cozy?", said the mayor with a smile that mirrored his wife's. Mrs. Ruffage, meanwhile, had a crazed look in her eyes. "Cozy? Oh, yes. Oh, I've been wanting for you, my dear. I've a collection of treasures, but not every gem is a jewel. You, dear, are a jewel and will be the prize of my trove."

Meanwhile, Bess and Marvin crammed in behind me, followed by the mayor's wife. Cozy? Not anymore. It was stuffed!

"You look confused. Allow me to explain it to you." This was the mayor, Oliver Chutney. "You see, no one likes you. I'd hoped you'd leave with the rumours swirling about me and you. But no, you stayed. Bought a broom, even. By the way, where is it?" He directed that at his wife.

"It's outside." That was his wife.

He looked annoyed. "You brought in a mule but didn't think it important to secure a magical broom?"

"Donkey.", I said.

"Mule. Donkey! Ass!! I don't care!!!"

"It's just that..."

"Silence, Sweet! Or should I say, Abigail?"

And there it was. The name I'd been advised to hide, and which of course the school knew. And so did the mayor. Who now had a long needle pointed at the doll's head. "Do you know what this is, Abigail? It's a kewpie doll. In an age where everyone insists on having more and more flash in their magic, I far prefer the tried and true. Allow me to show you." In went the pin into the doll's head. And I... didn't feel a thing.

Oliver, meanwhile, just grinned. "Oooo... a tough one, eh? You and me and dolly make three. I'm going to..."

"No! I'm going to place her in my collection with the others. You shall not harm my precious treasure."

The mayor's wife, meanwhile, had grabbed at Marvin to try to drag him out. And that's when things got really interesting.

Marvin refused to budge no matter how hard she tried to move him. She made the mistake of getting behind Marvin and trying to grab his back legs. Instead, she got kicked in the chest and was launched out of the room. Hearing that, I summoned Vapour Trail, which flew into the room and started to swat Oliver's head with her bristles. 

Within all that, I heard Bess exclaim in surprise, then felt Sarah being pulled out of my pocket by MouseEye. Mrs. Ruffage's eyes went wide in greedy excitement. She grabbed hold of my wand... and stopped moving. MouseEye shot me a look that meant I should grab hold of the wand and enter her space. 

I opened my eyes. I was standing in front of the lone tree on the hill. The glowing form of Sarah stood beside me. Looking confused, holding her head, and spinning in circles, was Mrs. Ruffage. I walked over to her.

"Mrs. Ruffage? You're safe. You're..."

"In your wand. Yes. And I, at least for now, have my mind back. I have a feeling your friends are administering a potion to cure me. Dragon Sickness, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yes, ma'am." 

"I think I know how they infected me with it. A book, of all things. I started reading it and all of a sudden collecting treasure was all important. But not just any treasure - people. I had the school making sleeping draughts for days."

"A book? You mean they're responsible for attacking Count von Rannoc?"

"Sorry? Who's that, dear?"

"The vampiric necromancer living in Hero's Hollow?"

"Oh, him. Is that his name? I've only ever been interested in gathering a bit of venom from him from time to time. His curious assistant..."

"Igor."

"Really? Igor... hmmm... anyway, he collects it for me as needed."

Sarah took the following pause to interject. "You must depart. Things are reaching their conclusion."

I opened my eyes. Bess had somehow maneuvered herself to Mrs. Ruffage's side and stood there holding an empty vial. Oliver was curled up in a corner as the broom continued to beat him with bristles. MouseEye was sitting on the doll on the other side of the room. Francie had forced herself into a corner and was trying to shrink herself even smaller. And Marvin... he was standing over and keeping a watchful eye on a very still wife.

Mrs. Ruffage began trying to move. Bess, bless her, tried to look threatening.

"Bess, it's ok. The potion's working."

Bess backed off, a little uncertain. Mrs. Ruffage looked her in the eye. "The potion is working. Thank you. And now it's time to revive the town and the early-arrivals for the festival revels. Let me recommend we see to the senior staff first."

As she began to compose herself, Marvin asked, "I want to lie down on her. I know it'd be inappropriate, but I'm hoping someone, anyone, will say I'm wrong. Not that I ever am, but in this case I'll hold onto a glimmer of hope." When, after a few seconds of awkward silence had passed, he said, "Figures."

It was as if the room began to exhale: Mrs. Ruffage set off to begin helping all those she'd trapped, Francie declared she needed to be by Madam Hightower's side when she came to, and Bess and Marvin moved the now groaning Mrs. Chutney to where someone could see to her likely broken ribs safely. With a word from me, Vapour Trail stopped beating the mayor, who cried out in relief.

Seeing the opportunity, I crouched in front of him. "Why didn't your magic doll work?"

He looked from me to a very aggressive broom menacing him (there's something unnerving about a magical object that's just beaten you senseless while it hasn't broken a sweat. Not that it's possible for a broom to sweat, but when you're used to equating exertion with perspiration, not seeing the latter gives every indication it's still ready and willing to do the former), he complied and answered. "I don't know. It's always worked in the past. Even your predecessor succumbed eventually. Oh, she was tough but...". And then he shrugged.

I needed... space. Clarity. Answers. The truth. The world was unhinged, spinning, zooming past as I careened down the suddenly twisting hallway and heaving floor. Because... that name, the one I'd attached to for all my life (but for the last few months) was now not only disassociated from me (I really had come to embody 'Mistress Sweetwater'), but also just plain wrong. A lie. I didn't know who I was. I had to go, to move, to fly...

Vapour Trail was in my open hand, vibrating, potent, impatiently waiting. I climbed on to her bristles, not wanting anything except the feel of icy air blowing me to smithereens: cleansing, purifying, annihilating.  

I launched, the air screaming from the ferocious ascent. I'd never dared to fly so fast, so carelessly, incautiously. Clouds dissolved as I jetted through them. I think I was aiming at the sun itself.

Through tear-streaming eyes, I saw MouseEye perched on the broom's handle, sitting, smiling, whiskers twitching. Bastard - I can never stay angry in the face of twitching whiskers. But I wasn't about to release this any time soon.

"What do you want?", I shrieked.

By all rights, his answer should've been swallowed by the roaring wind, but I heard him as clearly as if we were talking in the cottage. "I'm proud of you, Mistress Sweetwater. And that I'm happy I stayed at the Familiar Summoning ceremony. Everyone else missed out."

"Oh yeah? But who the hell am I?"

"Exactly who you are. No more, no less. Names don't matter."

"Oh yeah? What do you know?"

He just kept smiling. "I know you call me a name that is now mine but wasn't before. And you used to be called a name that wasn't fully you. That's probably why the doll didn't work."

"But...!"

We both stayed silent, thinking. At least, I was.

"May I assume you're going to let Count von Rannoc know about the source of the trapped book?"

"Absolutely."

"Then may I suggest we go there now? Perhaps a necromancer will have insights we don't."

The Count? The Hollow? Why not! Besides... it was freezing up here!

By the time we arrived, I'd calmed down a bit. I wasn't seeing red anymore - it was more like a dusky pink. Still red-ish, but not so vivid. Also, the sun had set, meaning the count should be up and around and available to see me.

I walked into the Count's rooms (I'd been tempted to fly in but MouseEye cautioned that all it would take was one bad turn and things could get... difficult), swept passed Igor, and into the Count's study. He was reading a book, looked up at me, over to Igor who'd followed me in, shook his head subtly, then closed the book and regarded me.

"Igor, tea please." He then sat back. "The tale playing across your face is bursting to be vocalized. But do take a minute to compose yourself. Only when you are ready should you begin. And, I beg you, from the beginning."

Sip, breathe, talk.

The Count help up a hand. "Twice more. Then begin."

Sip. Breathe. 

Sip.

Breathe.

Talk.

I told him everything. The Dragon Sickness, The mayor and his wife. The book. The doll. The failed magical attack and the supposed problem.

I paused. He looked thoughtful. Then, "Igor."

"Yeth, Marthter?"

"I believe we're going to have the mayor and his wife for dinner tonight. Do make sure everything's in readiness."

"Indeed? Excthellent, Marthter!"

The count viewed me again. "So a curse requiring your name failed? That is interesting."

And this is where Sensibility, which had been consigned to a small locked cupboard in the dark recesses of my mind, finally broke free, shouting as it approached, that having a vampiric necromancer help in this regard was about a stupid a thing as anyone could ever do.

My face must have fallen in the moment, because Richard smiled, pleasantly. There wasn't a hint of rapacious wolf or crazed bat in his demeanour. "Yes, you've just realized what you've asked and of whom you've asked it. I currently owe you two debts - the one just now, informing me who was responsible for the cursed book in the first place, and that of curing the curse inflicted on me. I shan't hurt you nor act against you. What I will do, however, is consult Askew. Come."

We ended up in a room dominated by an elaborate series of chalked circles, symbols, candles, and I want to say there was more in there but I can't clearly recall now. Bidding me stand next to him, he spoke and chanted and made elaborate gestures and... then it was over.

"I should have guessed.", he said.

"Should have guessed what? And weren't you going to call Askew for help?"

"I did. It's done. You have no memory of it because, in a sense, it didn't happen within this space and time. But I do have an answer."

"Ok?"

"Let's go back to my study. It may take a minute to explain."

So we did. And it did. And... wow.

"So... what you're saying is, and I am still in disbelief, that my father is a woodcutter..."

He nodded.

"...and my mother is a dryad?"

He nodded again. "And isn't it fitting your chosen pseudonym is 'Sweetwater'. For what is sap, the precious fluid of trees? Sugar water. Or, in your case, Sweetwater."

"But... I chose it without thinking! I had to pick something and..."

"...and you unconsciously honoured your heritage."

Once again, everything began to swim. Reality was determined, and I mean dead-set, on making sure no rock was left unturned in remaking my life experience. My life! My... Everything!

Richard looked compassionate. "It's a lot. You've been through a lot. The question is... What are you going to do with what you now know?"

"I..." That stopped me. So many things had happened. So many things. I needed... I needed a hug. A discussion. A plan. I needed Bess. "I'm going to go back to High Rannoc, help with what I can, go to the cottage, and talk and think and maybe not decide anything but definitely process everything."

"A fine answer. Now, not to be rude, but I do have dinner plans that I eagerly wish to see through to fruition."

Numbly, slowly, I made my way out. To Vapour Trail. To High Rannoc. To seemingly all its residents. Hugs. Heart-filled thanks. Tears. Apologies. Explanations. Catharsis repeated over and over again.

Bess. She found me. I slumped against her, or she against me against her.

Not 'against'. Never 'against'. Just 'we'. She and me. Side by side. Together. Safe. Always.

We got onto Vapour Trail. Called to MouseEye and Marvin, who also boarded. "Take us home."

I don't remember anything else about that night.

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

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

 I found myself wondering, once again, if I'd made a foolish choice in staying in the witch's cottage. It had been more than a week already and I could feel my uncertainty filling the future. Did I really want those feelings of being someone apart from the rest of humanity? Yes, the cottage and grounds are peaceful, but at some point we all want companionship.

Unwilling mouse-y familiars don't count.

Nor do grumpy disbelievers in my ability to help them through their various ills and ailments. 

Nor do... *sigh*... I guess I'm just feeling sorry for myself.

Who am I kidding - stepping into the role of local witch without having a clear idea of what I'm doing. Let's face it - I'm making it up as I go along. *Ugh!*

Maybe I need a hobby. Like taking care of things here isn't enough.

Maybe I...

"Hi. You busy?"

MouseEye. He tries, I think. Maybe my expectations, my hopes, and my dreams are just getting in the way. Maybe if I...

He jumped onto my shoulder then tapped on the side of my head. "Hello! Is anyone home?"

Somewhere in there I should have counted to ten before answering but I didn't give myself that space. So a bit more sharply than I should've, I answered. "Yes? What is it? What's so important?"

He twitched his whiskers. He was irritated too. And I was probably the cause. *ugh* But kudos to him - he swallowed a sarcastic comeback and got to the important thing he wanted to bring up. "Something we've never discussed is what I should call you."

And he was right. I'd never thought of telling him my name. "Oh! Well, it's..."

He quickly interrupted. "Not your real name. Real names have power. If someone knows your real name, they can have power over you. "Witch" is your job, your title, but won't suffice as a name. Is there a name that speaks to you, that you can call yourself, and that others can use?"

I'd never given it much thought. Any thought, really. A name not my own that I'd make mine. It was a new and novel concept, one that was just so foreign. I wonder how someone goes about doing something like that. Would I need another trip to the Glimmerwood Grove to ask for one? Would I have received one at the school, if I hadn't left, that is. Maybe...

"You have five minutes. So just ask yourself and find yourself a name."

"I what? Why...? Five minutes before what?"

"Four minutes."

"I...!"

Mental turmoil galore! But within all that, all the confusion and the unknown and a demanding mouse and an uncertain future and a past rapidly receding and choices becoming more and more permanent... I heard myself use a name. Mistress Sweetwater.

"Three minutes."

"Mistress Sweetwater!", I shouted.

He paused, then murmured, "Mistress Sweetwater. Madame Sweetwater. Mother Sweetwater. Granny Sweetwater. Yup - all sounds good. It works, Mistress Sweetwater."

And that was that. I had a new name. And never would I use the old one again.

So... if I had a new name, did that mean... "MouseEye? What's your real name?"

And he just looked at me. "I'm here to help you, to the degree that I want and can do. Telling you my real name isn't part of the deal.

"Oh - and the rush is because someone is coming down the path."

And with that, there was a voice calling from outside the cottage. "Hello? Miss New Witch? I require help!" and then she knocked on the door.

I flashed a look at MouseEye. "You could've told me she was coming!", I hissed.

"I did. With five minutes to spare."

As I reached for the door handle, MouseEye said, "Smile!"

Grrrr... but I did smile as I opened the door. Or at least I tried. Not that she noticed - she barged through the door and past me.

"Where's your mistress, girl? Don't just stand there - I'm in a hurry and my time is invaluable."

My smile became more strained. "I'm Mistress Sweetwater, the new witch. How can I help you?"

She turned and looked at me. "No, girl, you misunderstand. My maid, Francie, said that you are the domestic here. I'm looking for the new witch what cured the miller's boy of his warty lips."

Ah. Well that helps explain things. "I cured him."

She just stared at me. Then, "Well? Are you going to help me or must I go elsewhere for help?"

That smile was now very forced. "I'd love to help you, Madame...?"

Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Hightower. Madame Hightower. As everyone in this part of the world knows. Or should know. Now - you will help me."

This was too much. "Certainly, Madame." I probably added too much obvious snark into that "Madame". "If only you'd tell me what your affliction is."

"Hmph! Should have known a little slip of a girl wouldn't know her stuff. If you were worth anything, you'd know just from my visage."

Her visage? Her face. Something amiss on this horrible person's face. A cursory look didn't reveal anything. "What...?"

"Oh for heavens sake! This! Right here! As clear as the nose on your face!"

She was pointing at her nose. I took a closer look and saw a tiny wart.

"Have you tried kissing frogs?", I asked.

Her eyes blazed. "The effrontery of such a question! No, I haven't been kissing frogs. Nor rubbing them on my nose. It just appeared, marring my flawless complexion, and I'm to host a small gathering of close acquaintances in a few days. What am I do do?"

Her angry facade gave way to anguish. Angruish, to coin a term. Frankly, I didn't see what the big deal was.

"And of course I will pay handsomely for a cure."

Well - there was my motivation. Not a great one, but the coin would help smooth my trampled feelings. "Ok. I'll get to work on a cure. You can go home and I'll..."

"Absolutely not!" The imperious bitch re-emerged. "I'll stay here, thank you very much, and ensure that you effect a cure post haste."

Um... ah...

"I will sleep on this bed and stay here until I am cured and can face society again."

Will you now? Fine. Then I think I'll take my time in making this potion. But first I need a diagnosis. And for that, I need to know...

"Is it only the rhino-wart? Or are there others?"

"A rhino-sized wart!?! How dare you! I...!!!"

"The 'rhino-' refers to the nose. I was asking if you have any other warts besides the one on your nose."

That seemed to mollify her a bit.

"Ah. I see. A medical term. Frankly, you surprised me. But - no. No other warts."

 I turned to the book. MouseEye was there, out of sight from Madame Hightower. Quickly we identified her affliction: Toad Nose.

As we worked through the needed reagents, I found myself asking myself if there was something going on in the vicinity. First frog warts and now toad warts? Strange.

I turned back to my impatient patient. "I need to gather reagents. Please stay here - where I need to go is very dangerous. But I will return with the ingredients needed to cure you."

"You are certain you can eliminate my disfiguration?"

"Yes. And in time for your party. But please be patient in the meantime." And with that, I gathered my things and headed out. 

Our first stop: Meltwater Loch.

As we made our way to the Loch and gathering, not just what we needed for treating my newest patient (who was helping me realize the connection between "patient" and "patience" - the one I needed more of and the other... I also needed more of. The first will come in time, if I continue to do a good job, but the other was all up to me. And regardless of anything else, that is surely not a subject covered in that school.

Nope! this is something that requires experiences and none were to be had behind a desk, playing at potion making, whereas here I am, tromping around on a warm Spring day, on my way to gather this and that at the Loch. Oh if only my family could see me now, going from no prospects in the far off woods to being someone counted upon, someone respected, someone...

"Hey! What's that?"

What's what? I looked around to see where we were. We'd just come out onto a beach. "Where are you looking, MouseEye?"

"Right in front of you. In the sand."

Sometime, and hopefully some time soon, I'll learn to pay attention to where I am, to where I'm going, and to the very large tracks that look like a massive dog walked into the water. My first thought was gratitude for not meeting whatever it was that made those tracks. My next thought of gratitude is that they went down the beach and into the water. Had they been pointed the other way, I would have been scared of it wanting to go back into the Loch but stopping for a small witch lunch first.

I ventured, "A dog?"

MouseEye looked at me. "That big?"

"A large dogfish?"

We both stared at the tracks for a minute. Then I said, "What do you think the chances are that it's alone. You know - no mate, no little large dogfish?"

We both listened intently. A gentle lapping of surf, insects buzzing, birds chirping, the safe sounds of a beach were all we heard. Certainly no crashing through foliage, no loud breath bubbles in the water, no signs anything would give us grief. That was a relief.

Despite the feeling that we were safe, I still had MouseEye keep lookout. After all, he says he's good at watching. So - watch out for danger! He took up position on a cliff edge while I started gathering reagents.

First up - Smooth Croak. It was an amazing ingredient last time so I went with it again. Besides, finding the frogs, so iridescently colourful, was most of the joy in gathering it. Collecting the mucous that coats those beautiful skins was less so.

And that was all I needed from here. But since I was determined to take my own sweet time with the cure, I also gathered some extra things. Like wigfish. How can you not grab the seaweed wigs the fish put on their heads when they just parade back and forth in the water, desperate for attention? Although it's possible they were hoping I'd be some sort of beauty judge.

The reason I'm only half-kidding about the beauty show judge thing is that they, each of them, emerged from behind a grove of deep reed. After I'd taken a wig, the fish disappeared, leaving me free to harvest a branch or two of the reeds.

As I prepared to gather up some gas weed (which had floated up to the surface from the depths) and also slime shell (because apparently I hadn't gotten my hands on enough slimy stuff after gathering the smooth croak), I called up to MouseEye to check out Gimmerwood Grove before we headed that way together. After getting through the seemingly required "Must I?", I set to collecting the last reagents.

While I waited for the all clear, I decided to dry off and warm up by lying on the beach and soaking up the sun.

I found myself, besides keeping an ear out for giant dogfish, staring up at the clouds. They were all puffy and white. What would it be like to fly up there? Wouldn't it be the same feeling of cold and wet like what happens when it's foggy? Would they be more solid? Could you turn clouds into thread and then into fabric? Imagine a set of clothes made from cloud cloth! Would they be light as air? Could I maybe one day fly to them? Or maybe I could just climb Moonbreaker Mountain and do it that way. I could maybe...

"Good morning, sleepy head." And then a pressure landed on my chest. Opening my eyes, there was an impudent mouse staring at me.

I tried to speak but between the sun, the sand, and my mouth being wide open while I napped, all I had was cotton in my mouth. And not cottony-soft cloud - nope - this was full-on cotton sand, the ultimate drying agent.

After taking some refreshing gulps of Loch water, I was finally able to ask about Glimmerwood Grove. "It's all good. And there's a group that wants to play a friendly game with you."

I should have asked who the group was and what game they wanted to play, but I figured I'd find out in a little bit anyway.

Reminder to self - ask the questions beforehand.

When we got to the Grove, there was indeed a group who challenged me to a game. Caber toss. Thankfully, the group was a group of pixies. If it'd been trolls, or really anything much bigger than me, I'd have lost of a certainty.

As we set up for the game - getting the "log" (much more like a large stick) ready for tossing - the pixies started taunting me. It was good-natured, but they insisted that there be a small wager on the outcome. They said that the old witch would routinely lose and that she'd pay off her debt with a fresh reagent. They also let me know that if I refused to give a reagent, they'd lay a curse on me! There was at least one pixie who really wanted to practice their curse-craft.

Inspired by their attitude, especially the expectation I'd throw the game, I threw the caber farther than I ever would've dreamed I could. Pixie jaws dropped.

"I suppose you won fair and square. Although I wonder why - the old witch supported us with fresh reagents and needed an excuse so she'd lose at the caber toss. Ah well..." And they turned to go.

"Ahem. Aren't you forgetting something?" I wondered if I crossed my arms, tapped my feet, or pursed my lips, if I'd look more imposing.

One of the pixies reluctantly reached into a pouch. "Fair's fair. I suppose." And with that, he handed me ten silver. And then they left in a huff.

After they'd gone, I looked for MouseEye. "Pixies? Caber toss? Are you kidding me?" I must admit I got pretty shrill.

"Granted, ok. But ten silver is nothing to sneeze at. And did you know the old witch was a pixie caber toss team supporter? That's something. So all in all, it all worked out. Thanks to me. And your bulging biceps, of course."

We both knew that I don't really have biceps, let alone ones that bulge. My dad? Arms bigger than my whole body. Me? Thin as reeds.

"Come on. Let's get to work. These things won't gather themselves."

After walking a bit, we started hearing singing. Unearthly singing. God-awful unearthly singing. Drunk fairies. If you've never heard drunk fairies before, they're just like regular fairies but using dirty lyrics, out-of-tune melodies, and harmonies that can knock birds unconcsious.

I think I heard this one:

There once was a man from Glasnee

Who's prick was the size of a flea

   You'd think never under heaven

   That it could plant a bun in the oven

Yet it just made wee bairn number twenty-three 

Yup, drunk fairies.

The thing about drunk fairies is you can pretend to be just about anything and they'll believe it. For instance, this is how our little conversation went:

"Hey! Who're you?"

"I'm a Fairy Good Witch here to harvest some songberries because they're so ripe and sweet."

"Oh, aye. I recognize you! Sure, go ahead."

While I picked a few, I couldn't help but notice some rats in cages off to the side. I had to ask. "What are you doing with the rats?"

"Training them! Fastest rats you'll ever see!"

"May I have some of their spit?" Rat spit is fantastic for teeth.

"Um... sure... but it won't make you any faster."

"I'm sure that's ok."

A small vial of rat spit later and I was ready to head home and on to kicking someone out of the cottage.

Home. Did I just call the cottage "home"? I guess I did. So I guess it's time to start treating it not as a guest would but as an owner would. And hopefully the old witch, when she returns, will appreciate my efforts.

It was with that in mind that I headed back. Yes, I'd shown her that I wouldn't be rushed but I was tired, hungry, and so ready for a bath and bed. But first, a potion.

As I approached the cottage, Francie yelled out to me from the wood chopping block. "Hello, Mistress! O, my lady will be so happy to see you back! How was your adventures of getting your things? Why didn't you tell me that you're really a witch? Why would someone who's so clearly skilled need lessons in healing the misfortunes of others? Oh! I should alert my lady you're back!"

Was I gone for so long that Madame Hightower needed her maid? Ok - yeah. Probably. So that's two people who can vacate as soon as I've got the potion prepared.

I entered the cottage - my cottage, I amended - and was met with the expected imperious demands. "Where have you been? Did you want me to die of exposure and starvation? I had to bring Francie here to keep me safe and sound. And what have you done? Nothing! Except, perhaps, gather things."

Something in there brought me up short. "I asked you to wait at home. You refused. But you went back home to bring your servant here?"

"Well, of course! I couldn't leave you to your own devices without my supervision and yet I needed someone to take care of all the little duties while you were away."

I decided not to press it. Instead, I asked Francie to get the fire stoked.

"You will not give directions to my servant, young lady! If you have need of something, I expect you to do it. It's what I'm paying for, after all."

Sealing my lips so tight that they must have turned a blinding white. I got the fire up to boil the smooth croak mucous. As it boiled, I crushed the songberries and let them sit in the mortar - I figured letting the air into the juice would enhance its sweetness.

It felt like it took forever, what with scowls from one and poorly-contained excitement from the other, but eventually I'd poured the two together and thus finalized the potion.

Madame Hightower held her nose as she started to drink, but then eagerly downed the rest. The songberries really were quite sweet.

After she'd downed the last of it, she sat down heavily onto my bed. She looked dazed.

Yeah - I was worried something had gone wrong and was getting ready to do... I really don't know what I would've done. But she looked at me and for the first time since arriving, was actually nice.

"You make a wonderfully tasting healing concoction, Mistress Sweetwater. My thanks to you. I believe this is your going rate, plus let me add a bit extra for the delightful taste." Twenty-four silver! Isn't that lovely. But isn't it really lovely just how she changed. Those songberries and its mood-enhancing properties - golden.

Francie then rushed to her mistress' side. "My lady! Your wart is gone!"

The lady looked at her maid. "I have no doubt this lovely new witch achieved a cure."

As she and Francie made their way out the door, Madame Hightower looked back at me. "At the party I'll be hosting, I expect Mrs. Ruffage, the head mistress of the herbology school, will be there. I believe she's the old witch's cousin. I'll be sure to put in a good word. I'm sure she'll be pleased to hear that you are filling in so ably. Good day to you."

And that was that. No invitation, though. Although, to be honest, I would have declined. Still, it would've been nice to have been asked.

After the ladies had left, I finally turned to MouseEye. "Well, we're home. Our home." MouseEye just curled up near the fire. "Mmmhmmm. That's nice." Then mouse-y snores quickly followed.

You know what? Food and bath can wait. I laid down on the bed without bothering to undress first. That's something you can do in your own home.