Chapter 6: Idea Orchards

When the sky is light, Prism, Atcher, and Tonic break their fasts with Nightshade; everyone enjoys leftovers from the night before. Then the friends set out for the Ideas Orchard with marked maps in hand. Having put down roots while trying to fix the gingerbread curse, Nightshade is unable to lead the friends to the Orchard; the dryad instead introduces the friends to a pleasant unicorn guide.

“Just follow Mushroom! Well met, and meet again!” Nightshade calls from the gingerbread ruins. Dryads, as you may know, are attached to their plants, and cannot travel beyond them without great sacrifice. Nightshade waves to the group, wishing them well until they are out of sight.

The small, round unicorn struts down the path jauntily. Mushroom is no bigger than Atcher’s hand, and likes to whinny songs while trotting. Although they don’t speak unicorn, each friend feels the joy in the little tunes. All of a sudden, Mushroom steps off the well-worn path, and follows a twisting trail of roots and fungi. This path is less populous, and swiftly changes from a wide, welcoming wood, to a dark and crowded forest. Leaving a well-traveled path is always an uncertain thing. It can be dangerous to forge a new path, but there may be great rewards too. Mushroom seems confident, and the trio don’t know any other way to the Ideas Orchard; they follow along, paying attention to their surroundings.

The group travels on, following the merry tapping of Mushroom’s tiny hooves. The path forged by the unicorn is long and arduous. It twists, and drips, and not much light gets through. The air is drenched in sweaty vapor, and unseen insects buzz and click. In the gloom of the path, brownie, sprite, and gnome find themselves chatting less, feeling snappish at Mushroom’s silly songs, and growing distant from each other. The journey is uncomfortable and tiring; they go up hills and down, climb over massive roots, stumble on slippery rocks, and feel thirsty and grimy. The friends talk less, and grumble internally about the sticky temperature, loud bugs, itchy plants, and bruised limbs. Slowly Mushroom’s tapping fades, and each friend becomes slower and more focused on their own worries. 

“No one listens to me... Can I make a difference? ...It doesn’t really matter... Gnomes aren’t good leaders anyway... Sprites can’t understand my troubles... Brownies don’t do real work... Is your job actually important?... I’d like to help, but I’m scared... What if I mess up?...” and on and on their doubts and prejudices grow.

Soon, the cheerful unicorn is no longer leading them. The path is no longer marked.

All three friends feel querulous and uncommunicative. They mope and grouse, and cannot focus on solving their dilemma. The trio is so self-absorbed and focused on difficulties, they hardly remember that they are trying to get to the Ideas Orchard.

A disgruntled forever slowly elapses.

Settling into a sullen stupor, the gnome, sprite, and brownie can’t tell how much time is passing; it seems to stretch on interminably, each minute growing more irritable than the last. 

“How do we get out of here?” Prism sulks. “And where’s the clippy mini-corn?” Undertow spins in stagnant circles, and Prism’s complexion looks like deep and dangerous waters. The water sprite coaxes a rain cloud down to make a cold, dank puddle for wallowing in. Prism and Undertow sink down in the murky water.

Atcher fusses with an uneaten raincake, then uses it to act as a lens and starts a small, smokey fire-smudge in a small patch of moist lichens. The brownie vengefully tears pieces out of the Birchbark Journal and feeds them to the moist fire.

In a snit, Tonic collects twigs to start a fire and make tea. “Nothing is going right. We may as well stay here.” the gnome gripes. “The plants are wrong, the weather is wrong, the ground is wrong. We are lost and no one is helping.” The gnome angrily makes tea, grumpily spilling leaves and sloshing the brew, which only increases Tonic’s bitter mood. “Ugh! This is making me waste good ingredients! Stupid quest. Stupid adventure.” Tonic sips the imperfect tea, which is mildly soothing, but provides no good answers. 

Atcher picks up a burned twig and sketches what an Idea Orchard might look like. The sketch has a dark and moody tone.

Watching the brownie draw, Tonic quickly stands up “Atcher, that is a great idea! ...Prism! We are looking for an orchard. It will be more open and spacious than this dratted forest. Can you figure out the weather? Which way feels like ‘orchard’?” 

Prism’s expression clearly says “this is hopeless” but the sprite checks the wind, the clouds, the sun, and asks Undertow to run above the trees for a better weather view.

Determined to be useful, Tonic tries to assess their assets. “Atcher, didn’t Nightshade mark the Ideas Orchard on your Stratigraphy Skirt? Let’s have a look. How does this work?”

Atcher’s eyes open wide as the brownie wakes up from depressing self-doubt. “Oh, yes! The skirt shows the layers of geological history under our feet. It changes as the layers of soil beneath us change.” Twisting to look around the skirt, Atcher announces “We are almost there! Look, there is barely any stratigraphy between us and the orchard.”

“Judging from the Weather Tendencies, I say we just need to go through the darkest patch of woods over there.” Prism explains, in a grudgingly hopeful tone.