Tric has no problems getting Butterbell to cooperate up on the trail that Ash has marked. Indeed, it is rather boring leading the pony along. “Look, if you’re not going to carry anything, you’re going to have to pick up the pace,” he tells Butterbell, coaxing her to move faster so he can send her cantering ahead up to Ash. Tric follows along at a close enough distance that he can watch his brother get startled by an animal again. This time, though, Ash does not jump into the nearest tree. Rather, he quickly catches Butterbell’s reins and takes in the scene. Tric sees alarm flash across his features and realizes how bad this must look. A pony bereft of elves, lacking the pack that is supposed to be on her… Tric has a vision of how this could go horribly wrong, Ash spinning suddenly and firing off shots in the direction of the threat that chased Butterbell. He gulps at the thought of those fine-tipped arrows crippling his leg or arm. “Everything all right?” Tric shouts, announcing his presence. “Giving Butterbell a little bit of a break,” he offers as explanation.
“But you do not seem to be carrying her load,” Ash observes. “Have you saddled Heppa with it all?”
“I didn’t saddle Heppa with it. Heppa went down into the ravine to go fetch it, and she’s taking the long way back up.”
“Our trail does not go through a ravine.”
“Hers does,” Tric says. Ash sighs and unlimbers his bow. Seeing this, Tric explains further, “She said there should be a long way around, that the ravine will come back up.” He describes where they are supposed to meet up.
“I haven’t checked the ravine,” Ash reiterates. He loops Butterbell’s reins over a branch to encourage her to remain in place, though not to prevent her from fleeing if danger presents itself. Then he pulls out an arrow and starts toward Tric.
“Well, perfect! Heppa’s checking it! We should—” Ash stalks past Tric, and Tric turns to follow. “Why don’t we just go meet her? And Mate’s been checking on her,” he adds, which finally seems to reassure Ash some. Of course, Tric cannot stop talking, though. “If the bird comes back squawking or bloody, then I know something bad happened. And he did not. The only blood was from a field mouse.”
They leave the vetted campsite—Tric suspects it is marked with a discreet Wesmere ribbon somewhere—and go to check Heppa’s status. Tric insists on a shortcut that the more prudent Ash would not have considered, and the brothers find their cousin as she is just starting up the final incline. The grade has leveled off substantially here, so she is not struggling with the supplies too much. She takes a break while they refill their waterskins from a bubbling spring.
Ash actually compliments Tric and Heppa on their woodcraft. Though Tric is pleased to receive praise, he brushes it off. “We live in a pretty hilly forest,” he says, suggesting that Estbryn is not so different from here.
Heppa is far less cool about it, bubbling over with excitement about the cave she found and her haul of dapper inkcap. “I did try to sense the corruption in there, but it was too hard. It did make me a little sick,” she finishes her recap.
Tric’s eyes widen at that. “Did you eat some?”
“No, no. Just going in there.” It would be an interesting experiment to have Tric go in and see how he feels, given his mixed ancestry. However, it is already getting late in the day, and it is clear that Ash wants them back at the campsite. She will have a lot to write on her map tonight. “I wonder if they’re more potent when they’re fresh or when they’re dried…” Maybe I can figure out how the mushroom used to be before it was corrupted. Or what it is related to. “Oh! What did you do today, Ash?” she asks, remembering her manners. He looks confused by the question. “Did you see anything neat?”
“I saw no evidence today of any undead or criminal activity in the area to trouble Wesmere,” he reports.
“I saw two deer earlier,” Tric shares.
“Well, there’s only one deer now,” Ash says. “Dinner. That’s what I did,” he adds as they enter the campsite.
He does have a sense of humor! It’s so great that Tric has a brother! And he’s so likable, Heppa reflects happily. She begins jotting down her observations from earlier while Ash shares out their meal. “Oh, we need to work on your magic,” she tells Tric.
“On which magic?” he asks.
“Ash could probably do magic too,” Heppa thinks aloud, pensively looking across the fire at him. Sure, he told her when they first met that he does not wield it, but that does not mean that he cannot. “It’s inherited.”
“I guess so,” Tric says, not entirely convinced. “Does Uncle Thran ever do magic?” Cleomithir claimed that both Anador and Thrandolil were naturally gifted at magic. But what proud father would not think that way about his children? Tric reflects.
“I’ve never seen Daddy do it,” Heppa replies. “But I also don’t know what sort of magic was used on him. He might have forgotten that, too. Maybe Daddy doesn’t do magic anymore because Mother did something to him,” she grumbles.
“To be fair, there’s not a ton of need for it in the village,” Tric points out. Of course, their village was attacked this past summer, and Thrandolil did not take the sort of leadership position that Cleomithir said was appropriate for an elvish lord. “Not a ton of need, until there is…” Tric murmurs. He does not think that he himself is ready to wield fae magic, but he agrees to try. He is somewhat curious himself, and Heppa looks so eager to find out. He pulls out the aspen dowsing rod that he acquired for Nasir, it being the most fae-attuned object he can think of. With his and Glammur’s type of magic, Tric is often energetic, fiddling with his knuckle dusters or whatever else is on hand. For this serious fae magic, though, he feels he needs to be more responsible, like his dad.
Heppa thinks back to her distracted days in introductory shaman classes. She is far more attentive about matters she finds of personal interest, and back then, she was put in the class because that is what Mother wanted. “The two things that we started with were healing and manipulating plants. Do you have a preference?”
“Sure… uh, let’s think about plants.”
“Sorcerer it is, then!” Heppa jokes, that being the more offensive selection. “Sure you don’t want to work on the shaman glare?”
“Not really my style,” the affable Tric replies.
“Ash, would you like to learn, too?” Heppa asks, turning his way, but the avenger is gone. She shrugs and continues with just Tric. Maybe Ash is going to go study on his own, she thinks positively. Heppa ushers Tric away from the fire, having had her own accidents with exploding bushes in the past. She talks him through the spell as well as she can and assures him, “But it’s all right if you burn a bush. It happens to the best of us.” She watches with great interest, having been curious for a long time about whether a half-human can wield fae magic. This is a dream come true. Add to that the dapper inkcap stockpile from earlier, and this is one of the best days ever for her research.
Tric sets his intention on a set of brambles nearby, seeking to coax them into a shape. As Ruthiel instructed during their meditation session, he tries to be calm and collected. He has learned from his time with the woses to be wary of some types of magic, so he approaches this experiment less flippantly than he might have a few weeks ago. The plant does not take the form he envisioned, but it does shake slightly, as though there were a light breeze in the still clearing. He can even hear a quiet rustle from them.
“You’re a natural!” Heppa cheers.
“Are you sure?” Tric says, feeling drained from the intense concentration. “It would have been easier just to believe that it was moving. To just convince someone of that. But I see now why shamans develop that stare from just how much focus you have to have.” Heppa encourages him that he just needs more practice, but Tric is done with this for the night. He has learned what he needed to, that this is possible. The experience has further reinforced his belief that dowsing really is a form of magic; the rod really did help him concentrate. Maybe I did actually give Hezzis an artifact of great power… With the magic experiment over, he continues to hold the dowsing rod, sensing into it. “The water around here is exceptionally clean,” he comments to Heppa, who is intensely scribbling in her map packet. “Up here in the mountains they must have had a good set of summer rains.”
“It is very tasty,” Heppa agrees.
“There was a good snowpack last winter.” Ash’s voice drifts over from somewhere in the darkness.
“But it must filter through something,” Heppa murmurs, turning to the page on which she has begun to chart the Heart Mountains with the path Ash set today and her own ravine route. “Maybe some limestone…”
Tric nods to himself. “That adds up. That’s the best water.” In mind now of old camping trips with Nasir, Tric spins some stories to his half-listening cousin and his on-watch brother. It has been a good first day on the move.