Silvertip Mountain The ripple effect

FORGIVE ME FOR I AM NOT WORTHY!

Mason agreed and his father smiled, it would be good practice for them both. As they headed down the water side, Mason talked of things he had learnt previously. "That's right," he said, before realising that he had accidentally agreed to the entire statement, not the first question. "No wait." he quickly backtracked. "They die in winter." A short statement, just a matter of fact, before the details emerged.

"I'm not quite sure why," he carried on; "but it's almost as if they need to have sunlight too. When they're trapped under ice there's no sun and they seem to die. Think about the trees - they always grow up, towards the sun. I imagine herbs want to do the same thing too." He was rambling a little, and stopped. Letting Mason ask a question, if needed.

Eventually the conversation turned to Zaria as FitzDutiful kept an eye out for healing herbs to help his son's trade. "She's odd at the moment. Angry all the time with everyone. I had a meeting with some of the newer females and she came charging in all possessive. Women, you'll never understand them." It occurred to FitzDutiful that ever since mentioning Beta to his son, he was treating him different. Gone was the fragile way of speaking, the father-to-son only demeanour. Now he was talking as though they were near-equals, friends.

"Ah! Here we go!" FitzDutiful spotting some first-aid antiseptic plants hidden away in the nook of a tree, protected from the cold ever so slightly. "Remember these?" he asked.