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?"

Spring, Week 5 - An Involuntary Foraging Trip

To hear the narration (and learn how I put the episode together), click below:

*****

 I can feel the season coming into its own. That first fresh breeze promising warmer weather and the heat of summer is long past. The feeling of Nature waking up is something I treasure. Funny how things can change so quickly - a change in residence, a definite increase in responsibilities, learning so much in such a short period of time. And yet there's other things that take their time - a change in season, the growth of a tree, even the movement of clouds - and just how easy it is to miss.

I feel like becoming a witch has made me even more aware of all these things, all these changes, fast and slow. And the really funny part is that the best way to notice these changes is to be still. While I can easily keep myself busy doing, I find I prefer not doing. It's been a bit of an exercise keeping my doing and not doing balanced, because both are needed. I find I do because not doing ends. And when my doing is done, I'm back to not doing.

It's a bit weird and I don't know if I'm making sense to anyone (other than to myself, of course. I think!) but it feels good to just sit and observe. My mind does wander while I'm sitting - whether in the cottage by the spirit house or outside in the increasingly warm and green spaces - but that's ok too. It floats along and wanders into all sorts of mental crevices, nooks, even the occasional rabbit hole, but eventually comes back and quiets a bit before dashing off again. Watching my mind meander around is like watching a restless child. It's ok, so long as it's home for meals!

It's been a busy couple of weeks. I've done my best to rest and recuperate, to keep myself happy and healthy, while also being at my best when the need arises. I've enough silver to make a new purchase - I'm sure Bob will be happy to see me and a full purse! Just kidding! Bob is a wonderful person and a smart shopkeeper. I hope to be viewed the same way someday.

Anyway - that will be something to do later this week. Or not. We'll see! For now, I'll sit and breathe. 

*****

At some point, something that I started feeling, grew in my awareness. Something not exactly wrong, but also not quite right.

"MouseEye?"

"Do you feel something too?"

There's nothing so affirming as someone else mentioning feeling something strange without prompting.

"Yeah. And idea what it is?"

"Mmm mmm."

"Do you want to scout around a bit? See if something's amiss?"

As an answer, he closed his eyes. Maybe he didn't say "Must I?" with words, but he yelled it with actions. So I shrugged and decided to walk around.

The sky was clear, the sun shining, nothing out of the ordinary. Except for two things: the bees were less active and sticking closer to the hive, and things felt a little gloomier than they should've. 

It was all subtle and easy to miss, but taken together, something was up. I decided to stay close to the cottage. Which wasn't the idea I'd had for... not today, but maybe tomorrow. I'd taken two weeks to clean up and rest up after difficult cases, which meant I'd spent less time than maybe I should've looking for reagents. And I had wanted to spend some time in Glimmerwood Grove. I guess that would have to wait.

Time passed. The gloom, if anything, deepened. I did my best to sit and be patient. Me pacing the cottage would do me no favours.

The day progressed and still... nothing. The sun set and still... nothing. The sun set? It... no... *sigh*... if a certain necromancer is coming to visit, at least we'll have that out of the way.

"MouseEye? You don't think it's the necromancer, do you?"

He stirred. "If it is, at least we're here. The cottage is safe."

Oh good. I'd've preferred something like, "No - it's not an immortal, blood-sucking, death-magic using creature whose only weaknesses are sunlight, wooden stakes to the heart, and raw garlic.

So we wait. And wait. And...

A knock. On the door.

"Mithtreth? Are you at home?"

Gulp.

MouseEye quickly ran behind the spirit house.

Great.

I called out in response - mostly to delay actually opening the door. "Igor? Is that you?"

"Yeth, mithtreth. The marthter hath need of your thervitheth."

A vampire needs a witch? Well... why not. As I reached for the door, MouseEye jumped on my shoulder, which caused me to jump out of my skin. As I recovered my composure, MouseEye said, "It's safe." Good. Although scaring the stuffing our of me... we could have skipped that bit!

I opened the door. Igor was standing, all three hands gathered together respectfully in front of him, his perpetual smile warm and reassuring. "Mithtreth, pleathe allow me to introduthe my Marthter, Count von Rannoc."

A figure standing behind Igor began to move forward. I expected black and red velvet, a cape, a large necklace depicting a wolf or a bat, all on a towering figure with a smile featuring prominent canines. What emerged was... less. He was pale - that fit the usual depictions. But he was short and stout, wearing a shirt and pants that you might see a labourer wear. There was nothing regal or scary here. Or at least in view. MouseEye's trembling kept me alert.

The Count walked up to me, took my hand, and kissed the back of it. "Count von Rannoc. Pleased to make your acquaintance. And please call me Richard. One's name disappears when buried by titles and honours. Tell me, what may I call you?"

I could feel a gentle push to give him my real name, that here was a friend who would safeguard secrets as if they were his own. So I took a second to shrug that off. "Sweet. Please call me Sweet."

He smiled. It was, for the most part, accepting. But for the remaining part, and echoed by his eyes, not happy that I'd given the answer I had.

I recovered my senses some more. "To what do I owe the visit, Richard?"

He recovered quickly too. "Would you mind if we sit down before I regale you with my tale of misfortune?"

I was getting comfortable with the situation. And that meant I didn't mind taking a minute to ask the cottage before answering. Count Richard might take offence but I was caring less and less. I focused on the cottage and mentally asked for permission. It was granted. So I let the vampire and his assistant in. The Count flashed a quick satisfied grin.

"Isn't it funny - sunlight is unhealthy for me but I can enjoy a lovely fire. Thank you for allowing me in." The Count was once again being charming. But I wasn't fooled. Something was going on.

"Please take a seat. May I offer you some tea?"

"Tea? Delighted."

"And for you, Igor?"

"Yeth, pleathe."

With the social niceties out of the way, it was time to find out what was going on. "You mentioned a tale of misfortune, Richard?"

He sipped and savoured before responding. "Wonderful cup of tea. Thank you. So yes - why I'm here. As you probably know, being a witch, that I am... differently alive than others. In addition, my interest in exploring the boundary between this world and the one where the deceased travel to requires the use of silver. Did you know of its qualities of calling forth the energies of the moon? Yes? Yes - of course you do. Well - what no one mentions in any of the tomes I have - have you been in my library? You've seen my collection of books - that silver can irritate, not just skin, but the entire body and, what's more, the esoteric body. So I have a need for a cure. And that brings me to you."

On the surface, it sounded good. Sincere. Someone needing help. But couldn't that help come from, oh I don't know, the Igor with the fully stocked laboratory? So I called him on it.

"It'th unfortunate, but my thkillth are thentered around necromatic artth, not allergieth." With a slight, perhaps even disapproving, glance at the Count.

"Igor", the Count replied, "We've discussed this. This is not an allergy. It is a chronic condition from over-exposure. As you well know from the summoning of Askew." Then he glanced at me. "Ah, sorry - you wouldn't know. Askew is a minor demon. I consulted it in regards to my affliction and it assured me you could effect a cure."

Right. "Please enjoy some more tea. I'll be just a second." I got up and began consulting the old witch's book. As I came up with a plan, I heard the Count remark on my spirit house. "It's lovely how you honour... your ancestors? the grounds? What does this symbolize?"

Without thinking, I replied, "The cottage and grounds."

"Is that so?"

I cringed. I'm not sure what he's hunting for, but apparently he just found something helpful.

I turned my mind back to the condition at hand. Silver Burn. Definitely a thing. And not an easy nut to crack. Thankfully I already had one reagent, Ghost Goo. For the other, I had a few choices... I think I muttered Glimmerwood Grove as I read.

"Will your hunt for reagents take you  to the Grove?" I heard the Count ask.

I just nodded.

He paused for a minute. "Lovely place. Full of reagents."

I nodded again.

"And I'm in no hurry for a cure."

Did he know I had been thinking of going there? Was that demon the one who told him? "I had been thinking about a reagent gathering... expedition is far too grand a word. But..."

"Wonderful! That sounds productive. And relaxing. I heartily endorse it!"

"Yes, but..."

"And I insist you take Igor with you. He'll cook and clean for you - whatever you want. Isn't that right, Igor?"

Was there a pause? "Yeth, Marthter. Of courthe, Marthter."

The Count smiled. "Wonderful! It's all decided. And of course you don't want to wait, do you, Sweet?"

I just nodded again.

"Right. Gather your things and off you go."

And I did and I did. It was only after I was halfway there that I realized I hadn't actually wanted to leave at all. I was so frustrated, angry, disgusted in myself, just... I wanted to scream. But I also wanted to talk to MouseEye, but with Igor around, I knew MouseEye wouldn't appear. So I stopped to go to the bathroom, asked Igor to keep going, and said I'd catch up in a minute.

I squatted down in a place so I could make sure Igor kept on walking. After I made sure he wasn't around, I whispered, "MouseEye?"

"Clever using the 'I need to pee trick'."

"Thanks. It helps to know I've got my brain back. I felt like I was pushed out the door."

"Um... you were. But not by the vampire. I think the cottage got you out of there."

That stopped me. "Seriously?"

"He wanted in and the cottage let it happen. I think whatever happens there, it'll be safer for you out here. Focus on the potion - he wasn't making that up. And when you feel ready, then we'll head back. Hopefully, things will be resolved. And in our favour."

Note to self - all this hoping that things will work out is for the birds. Or the snails. For something and/or someone who's not me. I'd prefer certainty, especially here and now!

Anyway, I finished my fake pee stop and caught up to Igor. He didn't look happy. So I asked if there was anything the matter.

"Kind of you to athk. I... I don't with to thay anything againtht the marthter, but hith conduct lately hath been in violation of the Igor Code. And thith excurthion, begging your forgiveneth, ith right up there. I'm thuppothed to care for mathter'th needth, not thimply to enthure you..."

"That I what, Igor? Come to harm?"

"Oh! No, mithtreth! No harm ith to come to you."

"Then why are you here?"

"Loothe lipth think thipth. I've already thaid too much."

"He wanted into the cottage. He's looking for something."

"The entity that ith the cottage and groundth. He became aware of it with the latht witch."

"And so...?"

"Tho what? You'll cure him of hith allergy. Huh! Allergy! What thelf-rethpecting necromancer hath a thilver allergy? Thameful."

"I will?"

"Yeth, mithtreth, you will. Not becauthe of any threat, but becauthe, in your heart of heartth, you heal. It'th what you want to do. And I'm here to help you do it. Jutht... maybe take longer than thtrickly nethethary."

"And yet you don't want to help me. You want to help the Count."

"That, mithtreth, ith my burden to bear. For now."

And that was that. Whether I liked it or not, I had Igor helping me find reagents in the forest while a vampiric necromancer attacked my cottage. And my cottage, by the way, wanted me out of the way. I had no idea how I was supposed to feel about all of this. So I decided to get to work gathering so that when I felt the time was right, I'd be able to go home right away.

"Okay, Igor. I can't say I understand any of what's going on, but you are right that I'm not interested in whatever magical battle of wits is happening. So I'll focus on what I can do, which is focus on making potions and all that involves, and let everything play out as it will. I'm going to trust that everything works out ok. So let's get to the Grove and set up camp. It's getting late and I'd really like to hit the ground running tomorrow. How's that sound?"

"Like a well thought-out plan, mithtreth."

*****

That plan worked well for us. Although there was also a fair bit of luck involved. You see, we finished making our way to the Grove, the trees all rising high over our heads, branches outstretched, nighttime animals making their nighttime noises (funny how scary they can be heading to the Hollow and yet so soothing in the Grove). We found a clearing and set up camp by a couple of big rocks that were the start of a couple of low ridges, forming a bit of a valley. It was tight, that valley, so we set up at the mouth of it. It also allowed for some fresher air. Inside the valley, the air didn't move much and had an unpleasant earthy smell. And that's where we spent the first night.

When we awoke the next morning, we decided to move camp. Quietly. Because the "rocks" we camped next to weren't rocks. They were feet. Giant's feet. I don't know how we avoided being trampled or otherwise rolled on. Thankfully the giant is a heavy sleeper. 

Once we had the new camp set up, I went back and carefully picked Foot Fungus - a powerful reagent. I tried to not sneeze and was almost successful. But the giant slept through it all.

I do not look forward to contending with an awake giant. Fingers crossed I never do.

Over the course of a couple of days, we gathered pretty much everything I wanted to bring back.

We put our new camp near a copse of Nurse Willows, where I harvested Surgeon Sap. Apart from being a convenient camp for ourselves, we also got to watch as a couple of animals, wounded from, I suppose, territorial fights, battles with predators, and who knows what else, came to lick the trees and effect their own healing.

One of these animals was a boar. It was in really bad shape, not even being able to reach a tree - it just laid down a few metres away, looked piteously at them, and whimpered. I was able to gather a bit of additional sap and cautiously fed it. As it lay there waiting for the sap to work its magic, I gave it some pets and was rewarded with some of its hair. Hair of the Boar was another reagent I'd hoped to gather.

Near a quick-flowing creek, as we gathered water, there was some splashing as something tried to avoid us. At first I thought it was a fish. Turns out it was Scramble Bramble. If it hadn't been for its trying to get away, I never would've known it was there. I managed to catch a bit.

On a prior trip here, I'd encountered some pixies near some Songberry bushes. I headed that way again. The pixies were once again gathered there. It was a bit awkward, with plenty of not-very-quiet mutterings about how I'd cheated at Caber Toss. I tried to put on a friendly face. I guess it worked because I was able to talk to a pixie who was, on the face of it, personable. Or should that be pixieable? How about we go with civil.

With her help, we gathered Songberries (they're just so good for mood). And she directed me to Shieldcap - several pixies were trying on different mushroom caps for fit and comfort. And colour - getting the right shade was a big part of the discussions there.

I was about to head back to the pixie gathering when I heard the strangest rhythm: tap, tap, shuffle, tap, tap, pounce, croak. Peering around a few trees, I saw these weird pink toads, gathered in small groups, dancing. It was funny to watch, that they did it with such solemnity, I had to guess it was some sort of... I don't know... courtship dance maybe? Like trying to impress the other toads with their... big jumps maybe? Dancing skills? Ability to get down and boogie? But a serious boogie. Anyway, I watched for a good long while. At some point it finished and I was able to collect mucous off overhanging leaves and (and I can't believe I'm writing this) their poop. Just call me the Princess Toad Latrine Girl.

I did eventually return to the pixies. I noticed everyone was drinking something warm and rich-smelling. When I asked what it was, I was told it was Coffee Cap, that it grew over that-a-way and that I could go get some now since it was time for me to leave. Although I'd hoped to get some more Rat Spit before heading off, I suppose I should be happy that they merely told me to leave rather than curse me. So... Coffee Cap - yes! Rat Spit - no!

Like I said, it'd been a couple of days. They were good, productive days. Igor kept the camp running well, and in fact is quite the chef. I don't think I've eaten as well, out here in the forest, as I have in my time in the cottage. "Ah well, you know", he said when I complemented his culinary skills, "it'th alwayth thatithfying to cook for more than jutht yourthelf. The marthter, you know, doethn't eat anything. He provideth for hith own nourithment. Tho I'm having fun cooking for thuch an apprethiative mithtress."

At some point, after another filling meal, I found myself asking about the old witch's interest with the Count. "It wathn't thomething I wath privy to. It ith a bit... odd... to theek out the company of a vampire, or a necromanther, or both, but thee did. The marthter, I think he enjoyed the company. The dead, near-dead, theudo-dead, thorta-dead... did you know necromanthers have fifty words for dead and death?... anyway, they aren't much for converthation. And it'th above my thtathion to thpeak to the marthter. Tho I think he got lonely on occathion. He may even have lotht a bit of hith pathion for the work. Thuth my fear he'd abandon it and leave with her. Tho along with hiding her letter to him, I kept giving her a Travel Guide to the The Imperial Thity. I hope thee's enjoying it there."

Well... that explains a lot.

I was going to ask more about that when I got a feeling. A request to return. And not to wait. I took a minute to pretend to relieve myself so that I could ask MouseEye if he'd felt anything. He had.

I strode confidently to Igor and let him know that I felt it was time to head home. He took one look at me, said, "Yeth, Mithtrith", and we quickly packed up and started back.

Just like our walk out, it was dark heading back. I was certainly walking faster heading back home, or what I hope was still my home, partly out of a desire to be in the cottage again and partly out of trepidation of what I'd find.

The cottage was quiet and still as we approached. Light did glow out from the windows and smoke and the occasional ember rose out of the chimney. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

I opened the door and found everything as I'd left it. Nothing broken, no mess, no disorder. Sitting at my table was the vampire, Richard, looking at me. Not violent. Not angry. No animosity showing. Just... abashed, I think. Bemused. Even sheepish. "Good evening, Mistress Sweetwater. I owe you an apology and an explanation.

"First, the explanation. When I became aware of the spirit that resides here, and I believe you've begun calling it also "not here", I felt I had to explore the phenomenon. What I didn't realize was the extent of that energy, nor of its desire for its privacy and ability to defend itself from unwanted intrusion. I've already tendered my apologies to the entity, and now I do so to you. Frankly, I had thought you, an unassuming girl, wouldn't be aware of the energies and that I could take advantage of that. I was wrong. I'm truly sorry to have disturbed you and this place."

"And why are you telling me this?"

"Because that was part of the agreement I made to cease hostilities. To be blunt, in the battle of wills between myself and the entity, I was suddenly beset by the most noxious, odious, little creatures I've ever encountered. Vicious little things."

"They're probably the result of poisoning the doctor."

"Really? Comeuppance too, in the mix. Fitting, I suppose."

I just stood there, watching, listening, processing.

"However, I would be most obliged if you could prepare that cure for Silver Burn. I have money."

I glanced at the spirit house. MouseEye peered out from it, all smiles. He gave me a sign that it was ok to brew it up. It meant having Richard in my house for longer than I wanted, but I did quickly brew it.

He applied it to his hands, then drank the rest. A look of relief crossed his face. "Thank you. Here's your fee. And please know I meant you no harm." And with that, he headed for the door. Before he left, he looked over his shoulder. "I cleaned up as best as I could. Would you like Igor to give it a once-over? The mess those little creatures can spread is... nauseatingly impressive. Please excuse any mess I missed. Now, allow me to bid you adieu."

I sat down in my chair and looked up at the spirit house again. "Will you tell me what happened?" The feeling I got back was one of comfort, security, warmth. The feelings a child might get from a parent who won't share the events of the day but gives reassurance instead.

I sat and watched the fire slowly die down to embers, then out, leaving me in the comforting dark of the cottage.