Wildling Series

Greetings! There are some name changes this week; I'm going to try to change previous posts, but for now the changes are just from here out. That character of Atcher the brownie is changed to Fen, and the Wind Rabbit Undertow is now Spindrift.

Chapter 15: Petrichor

Staring at the scene, Tonic notices how the grey seamint path curves most of the way around the circle. There are 5 box-houses, their partially-built bones tall and stark. Each box-house has a tiny, short-grass meadow around it. The house bones sit just outside the grey path; in the center of the seamint circle is a smooth, black surface that looks almost sticky (but is firm and dry to Tonic’s cautious touch). A movement catches the gnome’s attention, and Tonic braces for an attack before realizing it’s just a reflection in the window of the nearest partial-house. 

Looking closer at the reflection, it is apparent that the green is missing in Tonic’s hair puffs. With a soft, bewildered touch to a hair puff, Tonic notes other changes “My eyes should be a warm, persimmon orange, why are they now the color of black walnut?” The gnome’s mossy patches and bark-like skin are altered too; the moss is gone, leaving instead pale patterns on the delicate brown skin. “Where has my bark gone? Where is my moss?” Tonic wonders aloud. Marvelling and still gripping the perfect, red metal cylinder, Tonic lets out a loud yelp when a voice nearby says “Are you going to drink that soda?”

Fen slowly moves over to sit by Prism, collecting rocks along the way. Neither friend speaks. Prism is angry and frustrated, trying to stand, prodding at the useless legs, and attempting to figure out what’s going on. Fen is sorting the rocks, noting their colors, textures, and sizes, organizing and reorganizing them in different patterns. The brownie keeps trying to tell Prism that everything will be okay, that the rocks just need to be in the right order for it all to work out, but for some reason Fen can’t seem to communicate ideas very well. The brownie’s inspiring demeanor isn’t functioning like usual.

After the brief scream of surprise, Tonic stammers “W-what? Who..?” The gnome’s wide eyes take in a figure in odd, fantasy clothes, wavy grey hair in a bun, and sturdy, dark boots. “From your expressions and clothing I’m guessing you came from the Land of Legend. I’m Petrichor - I’m a tylwyth teg. Don’t worry; this building site is deserted. Most paths from Myth to Legend come out somewhere abandoned. I’m not sure why, though. Maybe it’s easier to build a path where it won’t run into stuff? I like to walk through and admire the quiet; it’s a melancholy sort of beauty here. Anyways, hello! How can I help?”

With another sneeze and a snuffle, Tonic’s looks again at the metal cylinder. The gnome’s mind is in a whirl trying to figure out what to ask, or say, or do. “I don’t… What’s a soda? Can you help? My friend’s legs aren’t working.” is the best the gnome can manage.

Petrichor pipes up, “Let’s go look; I’ll do my best to help. Is this your first time traveling to the World of Myth?” Tonic nods as they walk back to Prism, and the tylwyth teg continues, “Ah. Well, then. Have you discovered how you’ve changed yet? I lost my ability with plants; I can’t grow anything anymore. I create gardens in paper and paint now. I’ve learned ever so much, but it is a blow to lose my connection with living plants.” 

Tonic realizes that Petrichor’s whole outfit is adorned with plant imagery; buttons that look like flowers, embroidered patches of leaves and blooms, a hair tie knitted to look like a vine, even plant patterns woven into the cloth. The gnome says with honesty, “I’m so sorry; that sounds really difficult. I can’t imagine not being able to interact with plants!”

Ahead of them are the figures of Fen and Prism. Tonic gestures to the two friends, asking Petrichor, “Can you help Prism?” Tonic remembers the earlier reflection and all the changes it showed, and uneasily tries to take in Fen and Prism’s changes. Fen’s hair no longer looks like quartz and hidden gems, but more like pale straw. The brownie seems introspective, not vocal and full of ideas. Prism’s hair is no longer splashing ocean waves, but is an undulating pale brown color, and the sprite’s skin is smooth and peach-ish like a newt, instead of the rippled angry of tidal pools and riverstones. 

“I don’t know if I can help, but I can do basic first aid.” Petrichor plops a rucksack on the ground and rummages through while muttering “Spray Slip (for slippers), Stop Flop (for better flips), receipt for Quiet Classes (for sneakers)... Hah! First aid kit.” The tylwyth teg opens the first aid kit and looks over the disgruntled Prism’s legs after taking the sprite’s temperature. After some careful bends and observations of Prism’s legs Petrichor says, “So there’s no pain in your legs? No feeling? I’m no professional healer, but nothing looks especially bruised or broken. If you could walk fine a minute ago, then perhaps this is your price for crossing the World’s Between. Some of the myths say travelers might have to give up their name, or the color of their eyes, or years of time in a few minutes. Losing your legs certainly seems along those lines.” Prism gives a surly frown, and Petrichor continues, “My house isn’t far; I live in the apartments on the other side of that fence. Would you all like a snack? We can take turns helping Prism over to my house.”

Tonic says, “Thank you; that sounds great. I’m Tonic, by the way. Prism, Fen, what do you think?” 

Prism looks up dolefully from the ground, “Well, I need some way to get around. I don’t think I can crawl everywhere. I really thought that once we got to the World of Myth, Graemes would be right here and we would all go home. It seems like there is always one more step.”

“Yes,” Petrichor nods solemnly, “Some tasks are like that. I find it best every day to just keep trying to do the next right thing. Here, Prism, climb on my back and I’ll carry you.”

As they start to follow the tylwyth teg, Tonic looks around and asks, “Fen? Are you coming? Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Did you know most rocks are just a type of quartz? And calling a stone ‘jasper’ sounds fancy, but it’s almost as vague as saying ‘quartz.’” Fen quietly picks up the pile of rocks, rearranging them in one hand.

“No, I didn’t know that, Fen. Are you okay?” Tonic asks. Fen nods, and keeps twiddling the rocks while following Tonic using peripheral vision. 

Petrichor carries Prism to the apartment. The first floor apartment is small and moderately tidy, adorned with paintings of plants, fiber flowers in vases, and various blooms and leaves. Putting Prism on the couch, Petrichor laughs and points, asking, “Tonic, do you intend to drink that soda? If you want to save it for later, we can put it in the fridge.”

“Oh!” The gnome is surprised to see the red metal cylinder still in one hand. “What is it? I found it on the ground and was going to ask Fen about it. Fen is great with stones and metals.”

“It’s a soda. A sort of sweet, bubbly drink.” Petrichor explains. “It’s put into the can to keep it fresh and makes it easy to travel with. Here, let me show you how they work.” Tonic hands over the can and the tylwyth teg remarks, “Wow! That’s light; it feels empty.” Petrichor shakes the can with a confused frown, looking it over as Tonic and Prism watch. Fen sits on the floor, rolling a stone in one hand. “No holes or punctures anywhere, but I don’t hear a slosh either.” Petrichor says while lifting the metal tab to break open the sealed hole in the can. The can is completely empty.

Chapter 14: Wildlings

After a restful night at the Snail’s Gift, Tonic, Atcher, and Prism are excited to be on their way. Finding Graemes and their journey’s end seem very close, and they are full of fizzy energy. The Wind Rabbits remain asleep in their bag, satchel, and pouch, as brownie, sprite, and gnome eat and break their fast.

Notyet is busy cooking, cleaning, and generally tending to guests and the inn while the trio enjoy a hot cereal of oats, buckwheat, and hemp seeds, with maple cream, chopped pecans, and fresh huckleberries on top. As the friends are finishing their meal, Notyet’s work slows down. The snail comes over to chat with the friends, “You seem to have learned a good bit about the World’s Between from your friend Graemes, I will try to help fill in any gaps in your knowledge before you go. Do you have questions?”

“Yes,” Atcher is ready to take notes, “can anybeing travel the Worlds Between? I understand the Lintels and Marginalia keep accidental crossing to a minimum, but are there people who cannot go? Could a group like us be separated, if not everyone is a Wildling? Are there limits to how much we travel?”

Notyet nods, “You have many good questions. As you’ve said, a Wildling is one who can travel the World’s Between. The word for someone who cannot sense or travel the World’s Between is “Glazed.” The Glazed cannot sense a Lintel, they do not get the “wild” feeling a Wildling has. When a Lintel is near, Wildlings describe an experience of the world shifting, of feeling newness, or magic, or of the world seeming brighter or more urgent. So no, not everyone travels the World’s Between.” Notyet looks at the group and continues, “As for a group traveling together, it may be possible for a Glazed to travel the World’s Between with the help of a Wildling, but I do not know. I’m not sure it’s ever been tested scientifically. Most beings regard the World’s Between as made-up, magic, fantasy, mere legend; those few who do travel are usually too busy traveling and having adventures to test the science of it.” Here the snail pauses to clear away the dirty dishes.

With a nose-wrinkle Atcher looks at Prism and Tonic, “We were doing so much, I never really considered… are we really going into the World of Myth? Where tricksy humans trap us and steal our science and skills? Where we get turned to stone? It hardly seems like something real…”

Prism’s changeable moods flow between surprise, disbelief, and anger, settling near confusion. “I never really thought… Graemes does travel, Graemes goes somewhere. And the journal mentions the World’s Between. And Nightshade said the World of Myth is real, and Vellum agreed; Notyet too. I mean, how would it even be some elaborate prank?”

Tonic pats the pocket with the plush moth in it, “I’m sure the World of Myth is real, but… well, just like any story, maybe bits of it are made up? Maybe it’s really just another part of the real world? I just don’t think magic can really be real...”

Notyet returns from cleaning and continues, “Your last question is about limits on travel; again, not much rigorous scientific testing has been done about traveling the World’s Between. However, I do get a fair amount of travelers, and they all have stories. While I’ve never heard of strict limits, travelers do report changes. Some changes might cause you to choose to limit your travels across the World’s Between. Do you know what happens when you finish crossing the Lintel? Rules between worlds don’t always match. What works on one side may be different on the other. The reward of growth requires risk; some beings who travel the World’s Between change but little, some change a lot. I have heard of some for whom time passes differently between worlds, and some whose body shape changes, some find they speak differently, some lose abilities or knowledge. Travel together, stay kind and adaptable, and you should fare pretty well.” The snail offers a cloth package to the trio, “Here, it’s your first trip. Take some apples and bread. The World of Myth is strange, and it’s always helpful to have at least one meal on you. Now follow me.” Before any of the friends can say thanks, Notyet opens a door down the hall and points outside with a rainbow umbrella. “The smooth grey path there. That’s a paved road. Seamint I think it’s called. It will take you the rest of the way to the World of Myth.”

Giving profuse thanks to Notyet, gnome, brownie, and sprite head down the paved path of seamint. “This path has nothing to do with the sea.” Prism notes. “Nor has it anything to do with mint!” Tonic agrees with a sneeze. Atcher takes a small piece of the smooth grey path to examine more closely, when Prism lets out a gasp. Atcher wants to check on the sprite, but feels it is important to study this bit of stone from the path first. Looking at the grain and texture, Atcher is certain they could understand the place they were going better, if the stone would just make sense.

Tonic rushes over to help Prism, who has fallen to the ground. “Are you okay? What happened?!”

Prism looks grumpy and bewildered. “My legs just stopped working! I didn’t feel a sting, or a rock turn under me or anything! I just can’t seem to get up.”

Tonic nods and tries to comfort Prism, “Let me see what I can find to help out. There might be some branches for crutches or a plant to help with healing. Do you see any Comfrey?”

Looking around for some way to help, Tonic sees a metallic-looking cylinder just ahead on the path. The top and bottom are silver, but the main portion is red, with white writing. Tonic picks it up with curiosity; it fits easily in a hand and is a perfect cylinder, with top and bottom closed, but it feels empty. Deciding to take the metal thing to Atcher, Tonic looks further up, and sees the circle of house bones.

Chapter 13: The World of Myth (and Land of Legend)

All three friends desperately want to run, but each stays on the circle of barren earth to help the other two. Slowly, in this way, each individual only managing to stay in order to support their friends, the semi-paralized trio inches forward until gnome, sprite, and brownie all stand completely on the barren patch of earth. The reddish-grey dirt is dry and grainy; no interesting rocks beckon to Atcher, no puddles call to Prism, no plants hope to sing with Tonic. The trio is frozen with anxiety, as if in stasis. Then, with a very deep breath (one full of trepidation and uneasiness), Prism, Tonic, and Atcher hold hands and reach out to touch the Tree Beyond the Garden.

Atcher waits anxiously; there is no mystical wooshing tunnel. Tonic tenses nervously; there are no sparkly lights opening a portal. Prism quickly loses patience and huffs in disappointment, “Wallowing currents! We’ve completed our Craft Conclusions, journeyed on a Wanderlust, met a dryad with a curse, were nearly stranded in a forest on our way to the Librarians, found a Knight and leveled a mountain, navigated an impossible village, crossed an endless meadow that’s only 20 paces across, walked further than I’ve ever been from home… but we made it! We made it to this tree to find Graemes. And nothing happens?! What do we do now?”

Impacted by the sprite’s words, Tonic considers going home; there is no longer the pull of the Wanderlust, the adventure could be done, and they would surely meet Graemes whenever the mentor travels this way again. ...but that seems so unfulfilling. To have made it this far, past so much, only to be stopped at the last step? 

Prism and Atcher watch their friend thinking, waiting for some idea. The gnome pulls out Graemes’ journal and reads the first decipherable portion to be found: “Whenever the world suddenly seems strange, when your heart races for no reason, when your senses sharpen and drink in every detail, when places you know are unfamiliar, when unknown places feel like home, that is a Lintel to the World’s Between. Find the Lintel, and you can cross over. Although the Lintels and Marginalia are often extraordinary, the actual travel of the World’s Between is gradual, often hardly noticed.”

“That was surprisingly pertinent.” Atcher quips cheerfully.

Looking around, searching for some indication of where to go or what to do, the trio remains baffled. They leave the circle around the dead tree and walk among the depression full of violets; the flowers are fragrant, the green of the vine tunnel is bright. Wandering back out of the vine tunnel, Tonic wonders aloud, “Did we somehow miss the right tree? Is that one last piece of the Marginalia; multiple trees in barren circles in a depression of violets, and we have to find the right one?”

When the trio is out of the tunnel, Tonic turns in a circle. “Oh blister buds. Atcher, can you tell from your Stratigraphy Skirt where we need to go? I can’t figure it out.”

As Atcher begins pointing out features on the skirt, Prism notices a wiggly movement drop out of the birchbark journal and asks, “Atcher; what’s up with your birchbark?”

The three friends see the Sudden Idea about maps wriggle free of the journal and start hopping and spinning. “Maplet?” Atcher asks, kneeling down close to the little Sudden Idea on the ground, “What do you want to tell me?” Maplet spins again, so it’s rose-star shell twirls around, then points away into the thicket forest and squeaks at Atcher. “Thank you, Maplet! Back into the birchbark now.” Atcher helps Maplet back into the bronze bag. “It seems we go this way,” the brownie indicates with a gesture the way the Sudden Idea is pointing. “Maplet is quite certain that although it isn’t exactly the way we came, it’s the way we need to go.” 

“Perhaps there are multiple trees, then, and we just chose the wrong one.” Tonic muses as the three friends start off again. The forest is as thick as before, full of brambles and untidy trees. Something seems different though, perhaps the lighting, or a scent in the air. All of the friends are quiet, as each tries to figure out what has changed, or if anything has changed. Prism asks, “Is anything different? Or did we just expect so hard for it to be, that now it seems slightly changed?”

The group continues on. Prism watches the sky as they walk, and eventually says out loud, “It seems a good bit later in the day than it should be. Wasn’t it still before lunch when we reached the tree? I think we are nearing late afternoon now.”

Before any of them can think about this question, they come out in a large meadow of short grass, with a low, sprawling, brown box of a house in the center. There’s a brightly painted wooden sign above the door that shows a snail in a ribbon-bow. The words above the image say The Snail’s Gift in softly curved letters. Maplet lets out a contented trilling purr as the friends approach the building.

There is a friendly light glowing from the windows, a delicious smoky scent in the air, and a laughing bustle of activity from within. Tonic pulls open the door and follows Prism and Atcher inside. The interior is all wood, with polished wood floors, scrubbed wood walls, and heavy wood beams that support the ceiling. The building has additions that ramble in different sizes, and slightly different heights from each other. The room they enter appears to be the main room, as it is a fairly large cube, seating roughly 8 full tables of guests, plus some smaller tables besides. There is an open archway on the far wall, and a small step up, leading to the next room. Entering this second room, the friends see that it is about the same size and shape as the first, with windows looking out the back meadow, and more travelers eating and talking. There is a kitchen built on from the second room, the grain and color of the wood (and another, differently-sized step down) suggesting it is a further addition. To the left and right, the main length of the building, there are some hallways that appear to lead off to other rooms (probably bedrooms). The atmosphere is warm and welcoming, with a fair number of beings eating an evening meal. Prism, Atcher, and Tonic are greeted by a snail carrying a tray of fresh fruit bowls.

“Hello, and how’s the road? I haven’t seen you in the Snail’s Gift before. I’m Notyet the snail. You seem a bit bewildered; would you like a meal?”

Tonic’s tummy wombles loudy, and they all agree that they are hungry. Notyet guides them to a table and gives them fresh fruit, warm pumpkin-sage soup, and lavender lemonade. Brownie, sprite, and gnome eat gratefully at first, but soon slow down. The food is delicious, but they still feel uneasy because their heads are full of worries about their journey; this doesn’t appear to be the World of Myth, they don’t know how to cross the Lintel of the Tree Beyond the Garden, and they have no idea what to do to find Graemes now.

After a while of cooking, bringing meals, clearing dishes, and tending the kitchen, Notyet notices the new guests looking despondent, their food only half-nibbled. The snail goes to the trio’s table, hoping to help them.

“What brings you here? I’ve been running this inn for a long time. Can I help you find anything?” Notyet offers. 

Prism fusses, “We were on a Wanderlust, but we seem to be stuck. We’ve been through so much and gotten to the Tree Beyond the Garden, but we can’t figure out how to cross the Lintel, which means we have no idea how to find Graemes.”

Notyet nods sympathetically. “That does sound troublesome. Can you tell me more of your journey?”

Atcher adds in more details of their travel. Tonic describes Graemes, and how the Wanderlust and everything started. Prism cuts in with clarifications. Soon, the friends have eaten their meal and told their whole story.

Notyet exclaims, “Quite the coddiwomple!... You’ve had such a purposeful journey, but to a rather vague destination. I think I can help, though. You did cross the Lintel, you are in the World of Myth. Well, nearly in the World of Myth. I keep my Snail’s Gift right on the edge. The worlds fade a bit into each other, so you don’t always notice right away. And there’s always a change from traveling the World’s Between. You should notice it soon enough. Don’t be too surprised if the changes seem like a steep price for traveling the World’s Between. It’s different for everyone, so I don’t know what to tell you to expect. I recommend resting up, then heading out in the morning. When you go, you’ll want to follow the paved path; paving is like smooth stone. I’ll show you after breakfast.”

Atcher yawns wide, and thanks Notyet. The snail shows them to a comfy room, then hurries off to finish cleaning the kitchen. Tonic comments sleepily “I’m exhausted, like all the hours we lost are catching up.”

Chapter 12: Lintel

The walk across the rest of the meadow is gentle, and the time seems a good bit shorter than the first half was. While strolling along, Tonic swirls toward Atcher and yelps “Quick! Before they’re gone!” while pointing at the hot air balloon floating slantwise to places unknown. 

“What?!” the startled brownie grinds to a halt and looks around with concern.

“The Useful Device! For seeing far away!” Tonic’s bubbling enthusiasm makes it hard for the gnome to articulate thoughts clearly.

Prism gasps, “Oh! Yes, let's send the Nightjar twins your Useful Device! It would likely be ever so much help to them.”

Tonic nods in grinning agreement.

“Of course! What a brilliant idea!” Atcher responds elatedly. Taking out the far-seeing Useful Device the brownie wonders, “But how do we get it back to them? The meadow takes so long to cross.”

“Wind Rabbits.” Prism asserts, while taking the Useful Device. With a sharp whistle, the sprite has all three Wind Rabbits at attention. “It will take all of you working together, but please race this Useful Device up to the hot air balloon. Okay?” Undertow twirls the Useful Device and takes the lead, showing Steam and Turbine how to lift and balance it. Atcher writes a brief note of thanks and explanation, ripping the page out of the birchbark journal. Tonic uses a bit of ribbon from a tea tin to tie the note securely to the Useful Device. Only a few slips and drops later, the Wind Rabbits are racing the Useful Device toward the ever more distant hot air balloon. Continuing their trek while the gift is delivered, the friends share the happy, satisfying feeling of helping. The woods on the far side of the meadow loom up quite suddenly, as though the meadow was eager to have the trio arrive; or perhaps the geography is not as scrunched up at this end. Looking back across the meadow, Prism notices that the hot air balloon and the Nightjar twins are no longer visible. The sprite smiles, thinking of what Weathervane said about lost things, and quietly says, “It was magnificent to meet them. I hope they bring delight where they are needed next. Although the twins aren’t exactly lost things, their friendship is treasured.” Moments later, the speedy Wind Rabbits are back.

Surveying the landscape ahead, the friends determine that the trees are large, the brambles tangled, and the undergrowth a thicket. It is hard work to get into the woods. Atcher chooses a sharp Sudden Idea from the Birchbark journal to help cut into the brush. Tonic looks for a path with the least harmful plants, and uses the Mighty Teaspoon Hammer to sweep aside and crush any plants blocking the way. Prism barrels through like a storm, ripping and stomping, and sometimes howling from a vicious thorn or stick. In this way, sprite, gnome, and brownie make it through the woods. 

Once inside, the light is a dappled green, and the air is cooler. The trees are older and larger, so the undergrowth is thinner, making progress much easier. The trio stops for a rest and a snack of nuts and dried fruit. The Wind Rabbits chase up a breeze to cool everyone, and soon the friends are searching for the depression full of violets that marks the Tree Beyond the Garden. Atcher uses the Sudden Idea about maps to help determine their course. The underbrush has thickened again, and sturdy green vines curl and lock everything together, almost into a wall. Tonic observes, “Some of these vines are as thick as the bowl of my Mighty Teaspoon Hammer. We won’t be able to cut them. But if Compass saw the hollow of violets, then there must be a way through. Look for any sort of break in the vines, or more cleared area.”

The search is quite fruitless for a long while, until Atcher notices the opening of a small tunnel. “I’m not sure much more than a Wind Rabbit could slip through there, though.” the brownie muses with disappointment.

“Not to worry!” Tonic exclaims, hauling the Mighty Teaspoon Hammer around. “It seems that most of the plants here are dead and brittle. I believe I can lever the tunnel open a bit bigger for us!” The gnome heaves and bashes with the Hammer, causing a ruckus. In a short time, bracken pieces fly and the air fills with viney bark dust. Clearing the debris, the trio sees that the tunnel is big enough to walk through in a crouch. The vines that are left are a vibrant green, and closely woven together, forming a tunnel that almost glows with green light.

Tonic goes through the vine tunnel first, to clear the way. Since Atcher is the tallest, the brownie sometimes bonks into a lower-hanging stick or bole. The group is out of the tunnel faster than you can say “repeating regatta of revolving rafts is revolutionary!” Although why you should want to say that is unclear; it’s not as though it pertains to the situation.

On the other side of the brief, verdant tunnel is a wide, grassy clearing; a depression filled with violets. In the center is one twisted tree, on smooth, bare earth. The tree is smallish, possibly a peach tree, but totally barren. Not a leaf or flower on it. It is intriguing and enticing, though the trio could not explain why if anyone had asked. The party moves toward it, holding hands, unsure of what will happen. Tonic is slightly in the lead. “This is it,” the gnome declares, “this is the Lintel. We’ve almost found Graemes!” 

The moment Tonic’s foot touches the cleared area, all three friends are filled with fear and a sense of dread and loss. Their hands clasp tighter, and none of them moves forward.

Chapter 11: Weathervane

Actually approaching the dome takes some time, but not so long as the trio feared in this strange, scrunched-up meadow. Upon closer sight, the dome is a large, round, puffy, rainbow-kaleidoscope of color; and it seems to be inflating. A figure bustles loudly behind the dome, and there is a constant roaring-hum of a noise happening inside the dome. As Prism, Tonic, and Atcher approach the scene, the Wind Rabbits rush up and over the bright dome, twirling and snuffling playfully. “Hullo! Fairwinds, little friends.” is heard to come from the otherside of the dome, where the three Wind Rabbits went. 

Rounding to the far side, the brownie, sprite, and gnome see a cheerful, busy figure giving bits of sand to the Wind Rabbits (the airy lagomorphs are happily crunching up the tiny particles). The stranger is a bird with a small beak,who is wearing spectacles and a light blue cravat.

Tonic calls “Greetings and hospitality!” while Prism waves and Atcher peers at the woven cube next to the figure.

Looking up in surprise, the stranger greets the three friends. “Hullo there! Are these Wind Rabbits your friends? They are wonderful!” Flapping a wing in salutation, the stranger continues, “Call me Weathervane. Have you ever worked on a hot air balloon before? I could use some help with mine. We lost some things during a spot of nasty weather recently, so Compass went to fetch some supplies, but my dear twin set out ages ago! We are the Nightjar twins; have you heard of us? We write and reenact our explorations!”

The friends stare uncertainly at the enthusiastic figure. Noting the hesitation, Weathervane continues, “Weathervane Poorwill Nightjar? Compass Frogmouth Nightjar? The famous twins, exploring by land and air? … no? Well, no matter! You are in for a treat, because you now are able to make our acquaintances! I travel the skies by hot air balloon, and Compass traverses the land. We put on performances of our most astounding adventures, so all may know of lands far flung and learn of the wonders within them!”

“Do you need any help?” Atcher offers. “I’ve not worked on a hot air balloon before, but I think if you tell us what to do, we could follow directions.”

“Splendid!” Weathervane crows with enthusiasm. “I appreciate all the help you can give. Here, just hold this rope,” the bird-creature hands a rope to Atcher, “and if you would help pull the basket upright,” Weathervane continues, motioning at Tonic, “and could you have the Wind Rabbits assist in filling the balloon? We will have this set in no time!”

The group works hard following Weathervane’s instructions, pushing and pulling and straightening and twisting all the bits that need adjusting, until the hot air balloon is filled, and ready to take off. While waiting for Compass to return, the friends ask Weathervane to share stories of the twins’ travels.

“Certainly! I love to regale an audience with a good tale of travel.” Weathervane answers. “I would give you one of our books, but sadly, they were in one of the bags we lost during the storm.”

“Oh no! Did you lose a lot of items?” Prism asks, worrying it may have been the storm whipped up on the mountain that caused the twins to lose their things.

“Not to worry. We lost some items, but most we can easily replace. I did lose my treasured moonstone necklace, and Compass lost a favorite tin and  beautiful pen. Still, the items served us well while they were with us.” Weathervane moves to fix the position of the basket’s weights and check the straps.

Prism speaks up, confused, “Aren’t you sad to have lost meaningful items? I don’t understand why you aren’t upset.”

“Well sure,” the explorer replies, “I’m a bit sad, but I know the necklace and other things will go on to help somebeing else. Over time, items get lost. Some things lose their usefulness to us, or are needed more by anotherbeing. That’s one of the reasons we sometimes lose treasured items; they are needed elsewhere. I try to moderate my mourning over losing an item with good tidings for wherever the item is headed next.” Smiling encouragement, Weathervane finishes checking the hot air balloon.

Tonic thinks about the beauty in this idea while fixing everyone some tea, and spends a moment being thankful to all the items lost over time, and all the ones found just when they are needed. 

As the cups are passed around, Atcher pipes up, “Why don’t you and Compass travel together? Why one by air and one by land? Doesn’t it sometimes get lonely being apart that way?”

Weathervane nods and replies, “For sure, it can get a bit lonesome. But we travel a similar path, and we meet up regularly to compare notes and swap stories. We get enough together time, we just like to travel different ways. I love flying, see; I always have! The skies, the wind and clouds, the treetops; ahhhh, a soothing balm for me. The ground makes me fidgety. It is too firm, too solid! I was hatched with wings that just don’t fly, so when I was young I always felt nervous and unsettled. I was forever climbing higher and seeking out the aircurrents of altitude! I wanted to fly, and tried all sorts of schemes with kites and capes and deep breaths.” the friends listen to Weathervane’s story, enraptured. “My constant search for ways to fly were mirrored by Compass; mirrors are a bit in reverse, you know. While I wanted to touch the skies, Compass wanted to stay firmly on the ground; but since my twin’s wings work, others were constantly urging poor Compass to ‘fly like a proper bird.’ Oh, compass hated the prodding and teasing. What was wrong with just walking? We should all be allowed to move in ways that bring us joy. So while I was pitied for my ineffective wings, Compass was ridiculed for not using effective ones. We decided early on to find a job, a calling, that would allow us to work together, to help others, and to travel however we wanted! When we started our exploring endeavors, we both hiked, but I would always climb the tallest trees whenever we rested. Sometimes I would even travel the tree canopies while Compass walked below! Eventually, I discovered hot air balloons, and now I’m hardly ever on the ground!”

A hearty cry of “Clear trails! How have you got it working, Vane?” rings out. Looking around, they spot a bird with a wide beak and a sturdy backpack walking across the meadow toward them. “Ho! Fair winds, Compass! Some new friends helped me out!” Weathervane responds. The twins greet each other with compassion, and soon, all are being introduced and acquainted. Prism, Tonic, and Atcher explain their journey, to which the twins are helpful and optimistic. 

Compass assures the sprite, brownie, and gnome that they are headed the correct direction. “I saw the depression full of violets when I was out gathering. I didn’t go near it, but it shouldn’t take you too much longer. The meadow itself is a lot of geography in a small space, so it takes quite a while to cross. You are nearly out of it though, not to worry.”

Tonic gives the Nightjar twins a tin of fruit blossom tea to enjoy on their travels. As the hot air balloon rises, Compass sets off walking again, wishing everyone, “Safe journeys, and may peace and joy be with you until we meet again!” When the balloon is high enough for a good view across the landscape, Weathervane points the trio toward the Tree Beyond the Garden.

“Well met, and meet again!” Tonic, Prism, and Atcher all call as they head toward the Lintel.

Wildling Series; Wild Adventure. Episode 13; Chapter 10: Stories

With Atcher, Prism, and Tonic all reunited, evening is arriving. They set out dinner, arrange a camping spot, and once it was dark enough, they set up the Night Tent. The trio hug and joke and laugh as they go about their tasks. Turbine assists with starting a fire, and Steam helps find tasty plants. Undertow stays in the Seafoam Satchel and rests from a grueling day. Once they are all settled and eating their meal of roasted veggies, bread, and cheese, the friends are eager to share their stories.

Prism goes first, sharing the story of taking the stream. “You were right, Tonic. The stream is part of the village, and did not allow me to swim my way around the Marginalia’s twisting. I had a terrible rough time.The stream was never where it should be, and sometimes it wasn’t even a stream! I would swim forward into open water, only to bash into impossible rocks and muddy banks. Everything was disorienting and uncomfortable, and I hated feeling alone. Every time I thought I was making progress, I kept finding myself back beyond the wall, or halfway out in the forest! Once I even found myself in the ocean; I had to swim a current that was hidden in a subaquatic cave to keep up with that twist. The stream did not like my affinity for water, and had to pull a lot of tricks to keep me turned around! Everyway I faced was upstream current. Undertow could barely keep up with the flickering speed of twists. Skidding along the surface as fast as a freshening wind, that Wind Rabbit almost got twisted to places without me! I had nearly made it into the middle of the village, when I came to some shallows lush with cattails and thick with mountain laurel. The fight to get there was exhausting, as whatever way I went, I was fighting current. The place was gorgeous, though, just like The Shallows at home! Undertow sniffed a laurel bloom floating in the stream, just as the place twisted again. I was horrified! I barely caught a hindfoot as I felt the waters changing, and Undertow ended up stretched thin across several waters. Poor thing was barely a puff for a while. I gathered Undertow up into my arms, calling the fierce little Gale to me across the wide winds and waters. It took forever, I was worn out from trying to stay still in the shifting river, but every moment Undertow was stretched meant another twist and a further stretch of the wind rabbit. I gathered as swiftly as I could, coiling the rabbit up and gathering as much breeze into my arms as I could; I think Undertow lost a bit of an ear, but it will heal.” Prism gently pets the sleeping rabbit in the satchel and goes on, “Once I had Undertow together I just slumped against the riverbank and stayed still, cradling the little Wind Rabbit as the world twisted around us. I think I slept that way for a while. That’s where we were when Undertow heard Steam singing. I’m so glad I was already holding the rabbit, or I never would have been able to keep up! I’m so relieved to be with you both again. I missed you, my friends.” Prism finishes the story with a smile and a friendly hand-squeeze.

Atcher’s story is next, of using a Sudden Idea and getting help from some Bits and Pieces. “I didn’t think we could just ASK for help, and I really wanted to use a Sudden Idea about maps! I opened to a fresh page in my birchbark journal, and started mapping what I could see of the town. The Sudden Idea helped orient me, and I kept track of where I’d traveled with my stratigraphy skirt. I walked around part of the outside of the Village, but the edges kept mutating, and didn’t properly match up. I was sometimes one one side, sometimes another, but never going where I wanted to. I took a break to rest and re-organize my map pages; I have pieces of maps crammed in all over multiple pages. It’s a mess! While resting I was reorganizing my birchbark journal, and also my bronze bag when I found a Bit hidden in the bottom! I have a Piece in my pocket, and I think I focused on that for a while; I remember the light changing. It might have been night, because I got out the folded-up Night Tent and used it as a glowing star to see by. I was eventually able to construct a Useful Device, which was reenergizing for me! Unfortunately, the Useful Device I created wasn’t much help with the specific problem of navigating the Village of Twist; it allows me to see further, but as the village keeps changing and shifting, seeing distant things wasn’t really pertinent. It just made me more aware of how lost I was in regards to my mission.” Atcher says while showing the crammed map pages and Useful Device to the friends. After Prism and Tonic get to examine the maps and murmur appreciatively over the Useful Device, Atcher packs them back away in the bronze bag, knowing the Useful Device will be helpful later. 

Tonic shares the story of befriending River Brindle, and getting guided through the ever-changing village of Twist.

*Much later, Tonic learns that River Brindle journeyed far away, and the gnome realized they weren’t likely to meet again. Tonic made a note in Graeme’s journal, “Although having friends too far away to visit may be sad, it is good to have met them. Some friends are deeply important to us even when we only see them for a short time. Being far away doesn’t end a friendship.” Tonic wished they had exchanged some way to send letters to each other. “A happy thing to look forward to from a friend is a much needed delight.” was also recorded in the journal by the gnome.

The three friends are happy to be reunited, and get some much needed rest. The next morning, Tonic, Atcher, and Prism are all together, and the Lintel is close. “River Brindle said the Tree Beyond the Garden is just past this meadow, in the woods there.” Tonic points. “So after we break our fast, we’ll be on our way!”

With the sun already up as the friends finish breakfast, Atcher nearly manages to get the Night Tent mostly folded up again. Rather than a hand-sized glowing star, it looks more like a pillow-sized moldy sandwich, but at least it is mostly put away. 

The morning light warms up the wide meadow, evaporating dew, and waking the flowers. It promises to be a lovely morning, and they are almost at the end of their journey. Walking hand-in-hand-in-hand the three friends cavort across the meadow. “You know what?” Tonics asks aloud, “I feel much lighter. I don’t have the urgency I felt at the start of the Wanderlust. I’ve traveled some, I’ve been to new places, met new people, I even helped the Season Knights! I think I’m coming around to the idea of going home again.” 

The meadow, which had looked so short, seemed to just keep unrolling in front of them. The friends soon slowed their cavort to a calm walk, and eventually a puzzled plod.

Sweaty, slightly confused, and appearing to be about halfway through a meadow that should only be 20 paces across, the brownie, sprite, and gnome pause to assess their situation. “How long is this meadow?!” Prism exclaims as the trio rest.

Looking towards the woods on the far side, Atcher points across the meadow, “Is that it up ahead? I think I see something!” The friends turn and see a colored dome in the distance. Excited, the trio run and tumble toward the not-too-distant dome, and the Wind Rabbits run behind them, rushing wind at their backs.

Chapter 9: Marginalia

Once out the other side of the woods, brownie, sprite, and gnome walk for some time, discussing their adventure. Falling into a hole is agreed to be a low point; sleeping in the Night Tent on the winding trail was definitely the highlight. Atcher consults some notes, “We need to find the Twisting Village. It is supposed to shift and change every time you observe it. The Tree Beyond the Garden is in the woods just past their meadow. Getting through the village will be difficult, though. Any thoughts or plans? I have been caring for a Sudden Idea about maps. I want to see if it can help us traverse the shifting streets.”

Prism is quick to speak up, “From what Vellum said, there is a creek that goes around and through the village; I think we can use that to bypass the challenging Village of Twist.”

Tonic isn’t so sure. “I think we are going to need some local knowledge. The Twisting Village is part of the Marginalia. I don’t think it can easily be defeated or snuck around. But Vellum said people live there, so somebeing must be able to help guide us!” 

With a stormy temper, the water sprite argues, “We can’t just ask. What would we tell them? If they guard the Lintel to the World’s Between, they aren’t just going to take us to the Tree Beyond the Garden! And remember how concerned the panel was at your Conclusion? I don’t think we can just tell people that you are a Wildling. They might purposely leave us lost and trapped there!”

“Those are valid concerns.” the garden gnome agrees “I think we could find a way through, though. Atcher is great at explaining things, and inspiring people to join in. I’m sure if we ask, it will work.”

The disagreement grows, each friend thinking their way is the only way, and no compromise is reached. After lengthy discussion, Prism says "I'm going to try it my way and you try it yours," and storms ahead in a huff. Tonic looks at Atcher, who shrugs in agreement. It seems they have finally come to a consensus; they will each try their own way, see who gets to the Tree first, and then help the others reach it. All this discourse means the trio arrives sooner than they expect, to the labrynthine village on their map. 

“Oh, whoa. Here is the twisted village.” Atcher quavers, looking over the slate stones of the houses, the somber shining metals, the deep red color of the street bricks, the bright glass windows, and the heavy dark wood doors and fences. “The dark and bright patterns must reflect light so that it is hard to see where you are going; like tricks with mirrors.” Turbine huddles down in the bronze bag, and the Sudden Ideas peek out of the birchbark journal.

Prism cuddles Undertow and comments “The mist here never goes away. I can tell from the way the weather moves. The mist will shift, but the air stays moist; it only turns thicker into fog, or back into wisps of mist. It must be miserable to see anything.”

Tonic gulps and puts Steam back into the teapot, with the lid firmly closed. “Okay. Are we all ready to get through this Marginalia maze village?” Doubting whether they should split up, Tonic watches Prism in the creek, singing to the current, and sees Atcher eagerly follow one of the Sudden Ideas around to the far side of the Village wall. 

“Well,” the gnome says to a nearby rosemary bush, “We are at the Marginalia, we are so close. But we are separated. Prism trusts the water and Wind Rabbit to lead a safe water route. Atcher is inspired by a Sudden Idea. I really wish we were together.” 

Walking through the gates and into Twist Village, Tonic looks at the red brick lane and dark slate buildings nearby and feels lost among the shifting streets and abundant alleyways; light glints and hides, mist curling over everything. Villagers are mostly on busy errands of their own. Most aren’t exactly rude, but also not very helpful when approached by a strange gnome. While standing in a park green and trying to determine which way to go, and feeling terribly turned around, Tonic spots a cheerful figure chatting with some villagers and warming a weary butterfly from a perfectly still hand. Tonic goes over to say hello and see if this villager can help navigate the way to the Tree Beyond the Garden. 

Offering their name as “River Brindle, of Okashi Street” the villager is tall and lithe, with large hazel eyes, beautiful wavy orange hair, and black stripes. And the wonderful thing is that although the gnome is feeling lost and nervous in the constantly-new, peek-a-boo village, there is someone offering to help. Tonic remembers dire warnings from stories and myths, and briefly fears that this new friend might not be as genuine as they seem. However, they keep to bright, populous places, and this stripey new friend is kind and considerate of all Tonic says and asks. The gnome decides to trust their gut, and takes advice from Graeme’s journal, “Many stories are told as cautionary tales; they are created to try to keep us safe. But often they also make us fearful, so we forget that anyone is capable of being helpful. Talk to those you meet; most will be kind. Trust yourself when you think something is hinky.” 

Tonic decides to follow the stripy River, and stays alert in case anything seems wrong. As they travel, “Never a straight path in the village” River Brindle explains, they talk about life here, and life in the Teapot. The village is too far from any professors, so they don’t have Craft Courses or Conclusions the way Atcher, Prism, and Tonic did. “We largely learn from apprenticeship and errors.” River Brindle gives a cheerful laugh. “The young are encouraged to try things, and get them wrong, and when we find skills we enjoy, we go apprentice with someone to improve ourselves. I myself have apprenticed at many places, and I’ve had a few apprentices too. Getting things wrong is how I got so many patches in my vest. I keep fixing it to remind me of all I’ve tried and learned.” River explains with a smile, pointing out stitches and patches in various shades on the black tweed vest.

They go up streets, and down gardens, under stairs, and across bridges, sharing stories and comfortable silences all the way. In this unsettling place, Tonic is relieved to share stories of the tea garden, of blending and smashing, and of hopes and hurdles for the future. The gnome feels good talking about things with confidence, in this place of shifting certainty. River Brindle is delighted to let the enthusiastic gnome talk and explain the intricacies of a passion for tea, and life back at the teapot.

The journey through the Village of Twist is long and arduous, and River Brindle has them take several breaks. Tonic feels comfortable with River Brindle, but has a difficult time dealing with the ever-changing streets and buildings. The gnome fidgets abundantly, dealing with the discomfort of the unusual place by letting out the unsettled feelings in physical jitters, taps, and cloth twists. Once, when feeling anxious, Tonic unconsciously pets River Brindle’s tail as they sit eating lunch at the Temper and Scale pub.

After a while, the gnome realizes the faux pas, and looks at River Brindle in embarrassment. “Oh no! I didn’t realize I was holding your tail...I’m so sorry! I’ve been terribly worried, and didn’t even ask…”

River Brindle cuts in saying “It’s okay. It’s not a bother. If it helps you feel better, then please continue. Sometimes you need to hold a friend’s hand, or tail, when you are scared.” Smiling, River Brindle keeps talking until Tonic is ready to continue traveling. They start walking with Tonic still holding onto River Brindle’s tail like a security blanket or worry stone.

They continue their journey through the village, until they are stopped by a grass-tufted villager who asks River Brindle with disgust “Why would you let somebeing hold your tail?!” 

The two villagers seemed to know each other, as River Brindle responds with familiarity. As they talk, Tonic begins to fear being left in this unknown place, far from friends. The serene River Brindle calmly retorts “My friend needs help, and I do not mind. Have you even a tail to be held? How do you know it’s terrible if you’ve never tried it?”

Rebuffed, the villager stands wordless and grumpy. River Brindle and Tonic walk on through the maze of the Marginalia village. They travel far, and double back, and sometimes have to run to keep up with the wily, changing path. Eventually they come to the edge of town, to an open meadow. River Brindle says “Here is your destination; my journey goes elsewhere, my friend. Just look for the violet-filled hallow ground. It was once a well-traveled mound, but is now only a forgotten depression in the forest beyond the meadow.” 

Tonic replies “Thank you. Can I have a hug before you go?” With a fierce hug, River Brindle asks “Are you alright now? Have everything you need for your adventure?” Tonic nods doubtfully. Noting the new friend’s uncertainty, River Brindle reaches into a vest pocket. Handing over a soft, toy moth the tall, striped friend adds “Here, you might need something comforting to hug on your journey, and my tail has to come with me. Travel safe my friend. Well met and meet again.”

Tonic tucks the plush moth into a petal pocket, and replies “Well met and meet again!,” as the helpful new friend heads back into the village. Once River has left, the gnome looks around and suddenly realizes that the plan (reach the end of the village, then go back to find the others) was a terrible one. The gnome looks down at the Wind Rabbit sniffing the grasses and asks Steam, “How can we possibly back-track our own path to find them on theirs? Where would they even be? We chose different routes... That plan didn’t make as much sense as we thought.” Tonic slumps with regret, before perking up.

Inviting Steam to help, Tonic sends the Wind Rabbit off to find Undertow and Turbine. “Didn’t Prism say that Wind Rabbits would help us stay in touch?” Tonic muses aloud, and fervently hoping the Wind Rabbits can find each other. Steam curls up high, like puffs from a giant kettle, floating and spiraling above the tree tops, and over the village. Then Steam whistles a song loudly to the other two Wind Rabbits, and the trio are shortly reunited! Turbine tumbles ahead of Atcher, glittering like gem dust in the air, and Undertow surges forward, leading Prism on paws splashing like flecks of seafoam.

*Much later, Tonic learns that River Brindle journeyed far away, and the gnome realized they weren’t likely to meet again. Tonic made a note in Graeme’s journal, “Although having friends too far away to visit may be sad, it is good to have met them. Some friends are deeply important to us even when we only see them for a short time. Being far away doesn’t end a friendship.” Tonic wished they had exchanged some way to send letters to each other. “A happy thing to look forward to from a friend is a much needed delight.” was also recorded in the journal by the gnome.

Chapter 8: Continuing

Yelling angrily at each other Tonic and Atcher lash out in a slurry of words: “What do we do now?! How do we get Prism back?! Where do we go?! How can this happen?! That’s our FRIEND! Bad things can’t happen to us! Why couldn’t I DO anything?! Why didn’t you help?!”

The two friends yell grief stricken accusations to eternity. They holler desolation and loneliness at each other, crying for the unfairness (the Wind Rabbits hide from the out-pouring of pain). The burning, gritty, unceasing wind whips at them and slowly wears their anger and shock away, carrying the tiny particles of emotion far away on the air currents, leaving gnome and brownie worn out and defeated.

Once all is quiet again, the friends having exhausted their fighting, and only the ceaseless, stirring susurrous of the wind remains, Atcher and Tonic slump down on the sandy ground. The mountain has leveled out from the air currents carrying away, and sifting smooth, the sandy soil. Pre-dawn light glows on the horizon. Then, as gentle as the breath before a storm, Atcher hears the delicate trickle of sand shifting. Tonic points at the depression where Prism had been, and Atcher and Tonic watch the grit shift and swirl in it’s own eddies of air. The faintest whisper of breeze, like the soughing of a single, irritated leaf, says “Oh, pond scum! This sand is miserable and greedy.” in exactly Prism’s stormy bluster.

Prism, an invisible rush of air, pulls free from the grasp of the abandoned Summer’s sand. “I’m a water sprite, but I am made of tides and storms. I am of the weather, and no nasty, grumpy, pouting grains of dehydrating dirt will stop me!” Nothing more than a darkly breezing whisper, Prism’s vehemence is still blatant.

Tonic and Atcher cheer to know their friend is there, although they cannot see the sprite. The sun is up, and glaring harshly at the dry mountain. Rising high in transparent spirals of air, Prism floats in cirrus clouds, pulling in their vapors, and calling a warchant that sounds like bated stillness and screaming torrents. All three Wind Rabbits race toward the sea, snapping and harrying black clouds before them. 

Once drenched with the high altitude precipitations, the water sprite climbs down a cumulus rope and lands again on the parched, cracked, barren swath of land. Prism’s new skin shines like riverstones and angry tidal pools. The sprite’s chant of vengence continues, more screaming torrent now than bated stillness, and the Storm Herds thunder toward the flattened mountain. Rain pours down all around.

Atcher and Tonic are still stuck in the sand, and they soon become mired as the rains fall. The Wind Rabbits are all driving clouds toward Prism, leading the Storm Herds in. The water sprite continues to call, crackling with power, as the Storm Herds rush, roiling nearer. The sky is black with boiling clouds, rain is lashing down, and the cracking thud of the heavy hooves of the Storms sparks electricity that sears sand into glistening glass.

As Tonic and Atcher help pull each other free of the sticky earth, Prism’s snapping, rumbling chant continues with a passion. Atcher calls out, trying to be heard above the rising storm, “The tea leaves! Is this when we need Prism’s ferocious emotions?” 

“Yes!’ Tonic agrees, “And the missing season has caused a land of desolation and death; Summer is the grave enemy.” Turning toward the sprite, with the land in tremors from the mention of Summer, Tonic shouts to be heard above the storm “Prism! What is the hidden poem?!”

At these words, Prism stops conjuring the terrible hurricane, and says with surprise in a low voice, like the barest rustle of raindrops on leaves, “Oh...My creation song…” The sprite stands on the edge of the eroding cliff, wild rain mixing with foaming surf and seaspray; everything is soaked and pulled about by the storm. Prism’s voice crashes and fades like a storm-tossed boat on wave swells, then sounds more like wind soughing and wuthering. The conjured storm pauses, then builds according to the sprite’s words:  

I Was the Wind and the Ocean

I stood on the edge of sadness,

Looking at the chasm beneath me.

One the balcony of despair,

The wind played with my hair,

Tossing it about my face.

Then it picked me up,

Swirled me to places my mind had yet to see.

I ran atop the ocean,

The sea-spray in my clothes,

Waves pushing at my frame,

Begging me to join them.

So I did.

I flung out my arms

With my head held high,

And laughed at the Great Unknown,

Then fell backwards into the foam.

I was the Wind and the Ocean

And I laughed.

The sudden wind and waves from Prism’s poem has further washed the mountain away, and as the sprite stills, the friends find the mountain has worn away into a sandy shore. The far-off ocean beyond the mountain is now at their feet, not so far off, and lapping seafoam at their toes. The wild, violent hurricane quickly diminishes, and the Storm Herds disperse. Clouds of Summersweet flowers grow in abundance where Prism was consumed by the harsh earth of the fourth season. The flowers' scent is a fresh, sweet, woody scent, something like a blend of honeysuckle, rose, and clove. The buttery dawn light is friendly on the newly-made beach.

Gnome and brownie help their exhausted friend walk, while asking concerned questions. “Prism! That was astounding!” Tonic gushes, “How did you do all that? I never knew you could exist without your water! We really thought you were…gone...” Tonic trails off.

“Are you okay?” Atcher asks the sprite, while giving a big hug. “Your song was glorious! Where did it come from?”

Prism smiles sleepily and replies, “Thank you both. I am okay, just worn out. Separating is miserable; I won’t likely ever be able to do it again. There is a precision to it, and it takes an intense amount of energy. I’m so tired.” Atcher guides the group toward some shade where they can rest, as Prism continues dreamily, “The song is not something normally shared. It’s my Becoming song, the song of my creation. It’s the music that played me into existence, the rhythm of that brilliant, clear night on the seaside; the waves crashed into the beach in a joyful, powerful way and jellies glowed blue along the crests of the waves; the stars shone crystaline while bright meteors raced across the black silk arc of the night sky.”

Wading through a sea of fireflies, the exhausted friends help each other to the plinth where the missing statue belongs. Tonic pulls over large leaves to use as pallets. As the sun rises higher in the sky, leaving scudding white clouds above, smooth sand below, and promises a day of seagulls playing and interesting shells to be found, the trio rests amid the seagrasses on the warm, inviting beach. Steam, Undertow, and Turbine all frisk in the waves. You can almost smell ice cream cones and the new-plastic of freshly inflated beach floats. A sandcastle sits just off to one side, two crabs industriously building up the towers. The beach is peaceful, and the stillness just waits to be full of friends and fun and long, warm days full of kites and laughter. 

Prism dozes on the leaf pallet and damp sand, with toes gently patted by the ocean waves. Tonic makes some energizing tea. While the tea steeps, Atcher assists Tonic in looking for edible plants nearby. Tonic points out a clump of seaweed to Atcher, while gathering a bundle of cattails. “These will make a good meal; I think we will need to rest here a day while Prism recovers. Oh, curly dock!” Tonic exclaims as they walk back to the sleeping sprite. “Grab that glasswort, too, Atcher!” Brownie and gnome prepare the plants and watch over their recuperating friend. After the food is ready, they gently wake Prism up enough for a snack, and the weary trio eat. It has been a long day and night, full of physical stress and emotional turmoil.

Prism is quickly back asleep, recovery powered by cattail sausages and seaweed salad. Atcher rests and sips tea with Tonic. “What is the next step?” the gnome wonders aloud with a yawn. “How do we finish the task of finding the missing knight?” 

The Wind Rabbits kick up sand and push flowers high into the salty air while the friends drowsily try to think up an answer, relaxing in the warming comfort of the sand. Still asleep, Prism reaches out, and they all hold hands. The sleeping sprite gives a contented sigh.

Shortly, Atcher snorts awake and suggests, “I think we need to find the essence of the season. All the others were named for some part of their core. What has the fourth season been for us? Or what do we want it to be?” Sleeping in the sun and shade on the shore, Prism happily murmurs something that might have been ‘relax,’ or might have been ‘rest,’ or possibly even ‘recover’ (some insist the word was ‘berries,’ but as no one can say definitively, you shall have to decide for yourself what you think it was). Tonic and Atcher can’t tell, as both are swiftly asleep.

The trio sleep through the day, and thus they don’t notice the tide come in, or how it carries them along on their leaf pallets; the friends are still holding hands like otters, which keeps them together, and the Wind Rabbits gently brace the trio along. When Prism, Atcher, and Tonic all wake at dawn the next morning, the friends find themselves washed somewhere new. 

“Where are we?” Prism wonders, tucking the tuckered-out Wind Rabbits into pack, bag, and satchel. 

“I’m not sure. This isn’t where we fell asleep.” Tonic replies, looking at the forest just beyond the sand dunes. 

Atcher points to an island in the distance, “Look! I see four tall statues on that island; I think the Summer Knight must finally be named.” The friends pause, full of trepidation, but no rumbling or shaking comes. “Whew. It seems the Knight is found. I hope we are closer to the Tree Beyond the Garden.”

Prism points out plump, ripe dewberries growing in a neat line, leading like a trail straight to the forest. “I think we go to the woods. I’m pretty sure this path is a thank you.”

“To the woods, then.” Tonic lists ideas and Atcher takes notes, continuing the notes as they travel:

“Bring chalk, mark the trees. Avoid known dangerous plants. Untangle branches. Find and fall into a huge hole. Find a hidden clearing to camp in. Follow the winding trail up the hill and out the other side of the woods. Spot a village in the distance. Argue.”

Wild Adventure Ep 10, Ch 7.3 Season Knights

At the next flat area (after another steep, grueling climb), the earth is dry and cracked, the night is oppressively hot and humid, but there is no statue, just an empty pedestal. The landscape is barren and desolate. A lone figure sits to the side of the path, well-lit by the bright moon and stars. The creature’s body is crisscrossed with scars and stitches, and different shades of skin. As Tonic, Prism, and Atcher approach, the figure stands, saying, “Call me Patches. Are you looking for Summer?” The whole mountain rumbles again, and a dry layer of dust settles onto everything, “That’s what I was looking for too. But don’t say the name. The mountain gets really peeved.” Patches finishes with a disheartened sigh.

“The Knights get renamed periodically. They must be named to be given their purpose, and these names influence the coming seasons. The fourth knight has gone missing, because it has no name. You must find the Knight’s name, and carve it on the empty Mantle before the Wheel of the Year reaches Spring’s end. The lost knight was made of copper, like the bright flame of the Summer sun.” A cracking, crumbling growl shakes everybeing to the ground. “Ugh. Fine. The hot sun; better?” Patches asks the world. The group waits a moment. Seeming satisfied at a lack of further response, Patches continues, “In the past the knight has been named Plenty, Fire, Growth, Flowers, and Drought.” I have looked all over the mountain, but I cannot find the knight, and I don’t know what to name it. Shouting words about sum… er, I mean, seasonal words out doesn’t work. Either the knight doesn’t just show up when called, or I’m not using the right words.”

“You seem exhausted; kind of out of ideas. Why don’t you just go back for a bit?” Atcher asks, brushing off sand and dust, “Go home and rest, or research, before trying again?”

Patches looks surprised, a greenish patch of skin raising high over a brown eye, and the thick stitching between a yellow piece and a purplish bit of flesh making a triangle over a blue eye. “Have none of you looked back yet?” Patches says with some pity, “You chose this path. The only way out is forward, new choices. You don’t get a do-over.”

Gnome, sprite, and brownie slowly turn to look down the path behind them. “Oh.” they all breathe. There is no path behind them. Tonic opens Graeme’s journal at random for inspiration, and reads with a slight sneeze, “You can always leave...”

“That’s actually pretty comforting” Atcher says. 

“What? How does it apply? There is no path!” Prism points out, patting at dust caked-on to clothes and satchel.

“Okay,” Atcher continues “There is no path behind us; we made a choice and can’t go back to the start and choose something else. But we can always leave. We just have to choose going forward.”

“Yes!” Tonic pipes up, “That’s what Graemes says. ‘Whether it is a job, a hairstyle, a relationship, or a meal, you can always choose to change it. Leave, choose something different.’”

Patches is astonished, and stands still for several minutes, with multi-length, multi-hued hair tangling in the sandy wind. Just as Prism asks, “Are you okay?” Patches re-animates. Then with a joyful whoop, Patches dances toward the statue base. With a powerful leap, Patches picks up the shield (which had recently been leaning against the statue’s base), and proceeds to slide down the side of the mountain, letting out an enthusiastic “Thank you!” Soon exhilarated whoops, hollars, and screams echo back up the mountain. They mostly seem cheerful, and only occasionally terrified.

“I’m glad that was helpful.” Tonic says with a small cough, still rather shocked “I guess Patches never considered that leaving was always an option?” 

“Yes, I think a lot of beings forget that after making a choice, you can still choose something different. It is always good to be reminded that you can leave.” Atcher agrees, while trying to face away from the hot, abrasive night wind.

Prism nods, like a wave at low-tide, “Knowing we can leave is good, but I want to find the missing knight so that we can make it to the Tree Beyond the Garden. Any ideas?” 

The sprite, brownie, and gnome try to think of the next step in finding the missing knight, but find concentration difficult with the searing night’s dry heat and scouring dusty wind. Every way they turn still blows rough grit into their faces, and there is no protection from the constant coating of grime.

“Okay,” Atcher asks while spitting out sand, “What epitomizes summer? Oh blasting stones…” 

At the mention of ‘summer’ the bright sky itself shakes to fractures, and the mountain powders to dry, scorching dust. Everything sinks down some into the fine, sucking sand. 

“Blistering buds! It is boiling hot!” Tonic yells in fear. Reaching toward Prism and Atcher, the gnome tries to pull them out of the sinking sand.

Steam hops out of the travel teapot to help, blowing mightily (like gentle puffs of air). Undertow and Turbine join in, but all the Wind Rabbits’ efforts only seem to shift the friends further into the sand. Atcher’s ankles are locked fast, and Tonic is buried nearly to the knees. Prism angrily struggles to get free, feeling the tie to water and tides leaking away into the dehydrating dirt. The sand greedily sucks away the moisture, and the already-parched Prism swiftly dries out, starlight twinkling reflections on the dissipating water sprite. In less than a moment, Prism is gone.

Staring in silent shock, Atcher and Tonic don’t know what to do. This was supposed to be a fun, lighthearted quest to find an often-absent mentor. A sweet romp of a Wanderlust to rejuvenate their spirits. How can their friend be gone? So fast, without warning? Atcher screams and Tonic tries to dig into the sand, looking for their friend. Undertow snuffles disconsolately at the dirt.

“I don’t like the idea of Never Return.” Atcher agrees.

“Easy enough,” Tonic decides, “let’s find out what Restore the Seasons is about. Maybe whatever is down that path will allow us to use the Short Tunnel on our way back.”

In agreement, the trio of friends start up the perilous-looking path to the left. Undertow, Turbine, and Steam race joyfully along the path, frisking in the brisk mountain breezes, and playing a game of Motes and Eddies. Brownie, sprite, and gnome hike up the steep incline, bracing against the slippery path and the pushing breezes. The temperature gets colder as they climb.

Huffing and puffing, the friends reach a leveled area before the next climb. The air is colder here, distinctly crisp and chilly. Taking out a gear-patterned brocade duster, Atcher is glad they thought to pack jackets.This part of the mountain is a riot of color, the leaves all decked out in their best colors. The trail is covered with crunchy leaves, and nuts are everywhere, ready for picking. The Wind Rabbits race through the leaves, stirring them up into whorls and swirls of rattling color. Apples, pears, figs, gourds, and persimmons all peek through the foliage just off the path. 

“This is the perfection of Autumn,” Atcher says blissfully, “all those bits of Autumn you love, squished together into one perfect-painting moment. I bet there is a harvest festival just up ahead!” Tonic has made them each a mug of cinnamon-y tea, and happily breathes in the faint, drifting smell of campfire. Prism sips the warming drink, and curls up with Undertow on a seat-height rock, dreamily knitting the clouds into a rainy grey, when the sprite grunts grumpily “What is that up there?”

Ahead of the three friends, an intricately-worked bronze statue stands, blocking the way forward. The trio examines the obstacle. The statue’s armor is patterned to look like sheaves of wheat, with cornucopia of ripe fruits and vegetables meeting in the middle of the breastplate. A full quiver is slung across the knight’s back, and a sturdy hunting bow is held in one hand. On the other side rests a shield, depicting a wounded deer, and a field of stars. The bronze knight stands in mud-caked boots on a rocky bronze path strewn with curling bronze leaves and oakcorns. At close inspection, Atcher notices a cloud and lightning pattern on the helm and gauntlets. The plaque beneath the statue says “Blood Knight.”

“Well, what now?” Tonic wonders aloud. 

Atcher muses, “The statue stands like a sentry or guard, blocking the path. Maybe we need to honor the Blood Knight so that we can pass.”

Prism lashes out “Who is giving their blood first, then?”

“Let’s take a minute to consider the idea.” Tonic suggests. “We might not need blood to honor the statue. What can we tell about the knight?” 

Prism snorts and mutters “Oh stagnant seas!” but mulls over the statue’s imagery. “There’s storms, and stars.” the sprite grudgingly offers.

Atcher nods and continues, “Good observation! This area is Autumn distilled. And the statue is made of bronze.”

“There is the wheat harvest, and the deer hunt. And the base shows a long, winding path. Maybe travel or journey?” 

“Okay, so the Blood Knight is Autumn, bronze, harvest, sacrifice, storms, stars, and journeys. How does that help us get past?” Prism asks.

Atcher looks at the clouds still knit grey and rainy. “Can we each offer something to match an aspect of the Blood Knight?”

Prism follows Atcher’s gaze and nods. “I’ll offer a storm.” With a quick spin, the sprite hurls Undertow at the clouds. Giving a nasty bite and a kick, the Wind Rabbit herds the biggest, darkest cloud down toward the statue. Undertow nips and harries the cloud until it is rolling and black. As the storm cloud boils over the Blood Knight it lets out a mighty boom of thunder, and strikes the statue’s bow before scudding off toward the sea.

The path beneath the knight seems shorter as Tonic says to the statue, “We are on a journey. My journey. And we must continue this path, for the next stage of my journey.” Then Tonic puts a mug full of cinnamon-y tea at the knight’s feet.

Atcher takes out the half-folded Night Tent. Unscrewing a citrine star from a join between poles, the brownie says, “Here, a star to guide you, and it was a piece of my Night Tent, too.” 

The bronze path beneath the statue has shortened, and the three friends find they can easily continue on the trail up the mountain; somehow the statue is no longer blocking their path. The incline is steep here, and the air gets colder. The trio climbs with difficulty, often needing to boost each other up steep parts of the path, and help brace each other against gravity. The Wind Rabbits do their best to help push the trio along, racing and pushing at their backs.

The friends reach another leveled area, and can see the next steep climb ahead. The air has turned bitter cold here, and the friends’ breath comes out in cottony puffs. Prism puts on a heavy, weather-decorated deep blue peacoat, and Tonic bundles up in a surtout trimmed with leaves, berries, bark, and roots (those used in tea blends, of course).This part of the mountain seems desolate; bare skeletons of plants stand starkly against the freshly fallen snow, ice crystals glitter on rocks, and icicles hang from conifers. The trail is covered with a fine hoarfrost, and each step grinds beneath their feet, with a squeaking crunch. But the thick, fluffy snow just off the trail is deep enough to build snow forts in, and several burrow entrances can be seen, dotted between trees. The landscape is rather alive, really: the holly has bright red berries showing, witch hazel has cheerful yellow blooms offering color from a high crevice, and song birds look for seeds. There is the fresh smell of evergreens, and the distant scent of a warm fire and peppermint cocoa, a tantalizing promise of warmth and coziness somewhere in all this biting cold. Steam huddles in the travel teapot, and Turbine rustles around Atcher’s bronze bag. Undertow, meanwhile, rushes and churns all around the snowy scene, howling at the world, and snapping brittle twigs off branches. Ahead of the sprite, brownie, and gnome is a second statue. This statue is also of a knight, this time made all of silver. The statue’s armor is patterned with crystals and snowflakes. The whole thing is scrollwork silver filigree, and the gaps are filled in with small glass panes. Some of the panes are broken, but the broken panes look artistic, intentional. The knight holds up a candle in one hand, peering ahead. The other hand holds a pillow and bedroll bundle. The silver base beneath the statue has one bare shrub at the knight’s feet, and nothing else. The plaque beneath the statue says “Glass Knight.”

“Again?” Prism asks with frustration. “What to sacrifice this time?”

Atcher considers the Glass Knight, saying, “This statue has symbols for winter, silver, fragility, clarity, desolation, rest, comfort, searching…”

“Why don’t we sit down and think it through? We could all use a meal, too.” Tonic suggests. 

The friends all sit, huddled close, and have a small meal of honey butter toast. Well, it would be toast if they had a fire. But honey butter bread is almost as good. As they eat and rest, they discuss what to do.

“I could give up my Night Ten for rest or comfort” Atcher volunteers with distaste. “But then we would have nowhere to sleep safely.”

Prism votes with a laugh to “dump a hill of snow on it, and just walk over.” The gnome and brownie let out laughs too.

Tonic says, “Well, we are searching for Graemes, but I’m not leaving the journal.” And looking at the statue, the gnome comments, “Well blooming buds! It’s moved aside!” 

As the others look, they agree in startlement, “Oh! Maybe the rest and comfort was all we needed for it?” Atcher muses. The group gathers up their things and hurries to cross before the Glass Knight moves back. Again the steep path almost bests them, but nearing twilight their struggles bring them to the next knight.

At the third level area, the friends are nearly worn out. The climb has been arduous, and they are unprepared for the prolonged cold they have faced. The air has warmed here, and grown more humid, as though getting ready for a shower. This part of the mountain is green with moss and new leaves. The trail is slick from rain and mist. A few flowers have just begun to bud and bloom, and there are butterflies flitting in the warm yellow light. The Wind Rabbits come back out, exploring the trail, puffing butterflies, and playing sliding games on the wet path. The air smells of warm, wet earth and sweet blossoms. Dandelions, clover, violets, and jonquils bloom. Tonic spots some snowdrops blooming in the shade where the ground is still frosty. Honey bees buzz around all the flowers, adding a lively humming tune to the place. Prism points out some ducklings sleeping under a fern, and Undertow gently rocks a hummingbird nest on a beech twig. As expected, ahead of them is another statue of a knight, this one is made of gold. The statue’s armor is patterned to look like angry rainclouds and rushing tides; the phases of the moon trim the breastplate. Slung across the knight’s back is a shield, etched with leaves of all sorts unfurling, and buds starting to open. The knight holds a pot filled with a variety of seeds in one hand, and a muddy spear held high in the other. The base of the statue is a freshly tilled field on the shore of the ocean. The plaque beneath the statue says “Storm Knight.”

“Right.” Prism says, adjusting the seafoam satchel. “The Storm Knight is Spring, gold, mud, change, garden, renewal, beginnings, tides; how do we pass this one?”

Tonic puffs air in stumped exasperation. “I don’t know. We sacrificed to the Blood Knight. We rested and ate for the Glass Knight. Could we…” Atcher is staring intently at the pot held by the statue. Tonic cries out “yes, Atcher! The seeds! Let’s all do some gardening!”

The trio each choose a few seeds from the pot. Watching Tonic use the reverse end of the Mighty Teaspoon Hammer to create divots in the dirt by the statue Prism asks, “Why don’t you just dig holes with the spoon-end of your Mighty Teaspoon Hammer?”

“For planting seeds? Oh no,” Tonic’s head shakes “If we were planting trees, yes. But the seeds are so small that being buried under that much dirt would smother them before they could reach the light.”

“Fascinating!” Atcher exclaims, writing a note in the birch bark journal. The friends all add some seeds to the divots, and Atcher covers them with earth. Prism calls again on the clouds, knitting one into rain and watering the seeds.

The Storm Knight no longer blocks the path, and the three friends move past, more confident than previously. As they nearly reach the steep slope, Atcher says “There must be one more statue. Each flat area is clearly representing a season, and the knight statues seem to guard that season. It seems reasonable that we found Autumn, Winter, and Spring. We just need Summer.” At this utterance, the mountain growls and shakes, dusty cracks forming beneath the friends’ feet. They are shaken, but continue the journey. Night is falling, but the heat increases.