Heron Lake Plateau you're an ancient ruin, a symbol of hubris and decay

i can switch this to RO if she's busy/not around :)

he wondered if who he was was a drifter.

it was indeed nice to know he had somewhere to return to, lay his head down. they kept him sheltered and fed. yet there was something easier too in drifting along. wherever his impulses pleased.

and with the recent announcements back home, it felt better to drift for a bit. even if he drifted with purpose. magda (@Magnolia) lingered on his mind. her wild ways and her abundance of knowledge.

it had all plagued his mind since leaving her.

so as he arched over the plateau in pale moonlight, he loosened out a little call for her.

hoped and wished she might come around.

he'd give it a day before he headed back home, just like they had agreed on.

After the run-in with the giant and her daughter, Mag had retreated northward to the forests above the plateau.

It was here that she foraged to get her mind off of things, and that worked well enough until a call sounded from afar. She cocked her head up to listen - ideally to determine if it was a man or a woman's voice, or if it held malice at all; then, she bundled what she'd gathered and turned heel.

As the woman crept from the woods and across the open plain, she took stock of what she'd learned so far. By the time she caught sight of the boy from before, hours had passed.

The moonlight glowed upon him.

Veran!

he hadn't realized just how relieved he'd be to see her again.

a sudden wave of excitement rolled down his spine as he lifted his head from a particularly interesting pile of muck.

she called out to him first and now he wondered if this was what friendship was like. probably. right? or maybe it was something else? regardless he felt all frazzled — only in a very good way.

magda!

he was suddenly crouching and heading towards her.

He was mightily pleased to see her, she noted. There was a sense of apprehension in him too, like a shying away, but he closed the distance to her quickly, and was low and interested at the same time.

Careful, aye! He was so focused on her, he hadn't seen the bundle she carried; or maybe he did and that's why he slunk so close, to greet and to inspect. Mag put down the bundle and greedily pressed her nose in to the boy's scruff, to learn more of where he'd been.

All she could smell was Saint, now that she knew Fury's scent.

As she withdrew from him, she grabbed for the bundle and began to unfurl the wide leaves and grasses that bound it. Here, fer yer perusal.

She didn't bother organizing all the things for him. He could suss out a few himself: some yarrow, bundles of withered flowers, a mushroom cap or two, and some black seeds.

in his excitement, he had not realized that personal space might be advisable when one carried something.

but soon enough she was offering it to him. in a way, he was allowed to look at the contents.

oh! you saved some of the yarrow. his tail continued its excited pace behind him. carefully he sniffed along the other things she had brought. unable to place the weird caps. it was the black seeds he hovered off the longest, though.

perplexed.

he remembered how easily some seeds could kill apparently. his head pulled back upright as he looked towards her blush gaze.

are you gardening?

which was perhaps a lighter question than asking the purpose of the seeds. if they were good or bad, or something inbetween.

A laugh bloomed out of her, the final taste of salted blood that she carried; it was raucous like the sea and scratching up her throat, but full of good humor.

Gardening! One look'n you think garden, oh, ohhh, the laughter drowned her a moment longer, then as it lessened she dabbed her eyes. Been a while since I had a good ol' belly laugh.

Those seeds are poppy! Fer sleep. Too much makes it permanent, an' sometimes walkin' dreams - aye? She took a look at the bundle and realized the seeds were scattered across the rest of the items, and her humor was gone immediately. Ah! Aw, nah. I had 'em bundled all careful, musta tore it up. Its all mixed now.

It was her own fault for not securing them better somehow.

he was somewhere between embarrassed and understanding. he guessed it was...good to know she wasn't interested in gardening?

his lips thinned as he became more than pleased to carry on.

poppy, she explained. good for sleep. too much would make it last. he had been prepared to ask questions when a great realization had seemed to strike her instead.

he did indeed see them scattered along the other items.

there's, uh, no easy way to separate, is there?

his ears slicked back for a moment.

Her focus was on the bundles but she did answer despite the stare. No, I don't think. Could dab 'em with my tongue but then I'd be dreamwalkin' the swamp — and I gots things ta do tomorra.

Or she'd die. More likely that, and Magnolia was not ready to leave this plane of existence; there were too many frogs left to catch and crunch.

Neh, it is what it is. She nosed at the bundle and overturned it, letting the remaining herbs and flowers and things tumble and the seeds to be lost to the grass. I'll get gatherin' again later. What uh, yew call me fer?

Her gaze lingered on him now, warm and happy as if her previous hours of toil had not been a waste.

he watched as she poured them upon the ground.

maybe it would be for the best. it strongly would be for the best.

still he felt a sudden pang of neediness to scoop up everything off the ground. like some goblin or hoarder. to preserve everything, even if it meant devouring some poppy seeds.

he would do his best to ignore that urge.

oh, i, uh— his gaze bounced between her and the spilled contents. was thinking about...a lesson?

because it would be far worse to say "i needed space and wanted to come see you again" probably.

Perhaps in the coming seasons the seeds would take root? Magnolia would check on this spot every few months, if that were the case. It could become a garden after all; she could call it Veran's Grove or something fancy; she saw the way he eyed the collection.

A lesson! Of course he'd want another. She'd already explained about the poppy seed, but there were other things worth sharing. Aye, then let's walk and talk!

The woman did not think of herself as a social butterfly (more like a fickle moth, flapping uselessly after one light or another as the desire caught on) but it was easy to put herself in to this teacher-and-student role.

You hunt much? Mag veered the conversation along with their path towards the waterway, walking in tandem with the boy.

i can,

they all could, technically, he supposed. not very good... his head turning as if to gesture to himself. small and scrawny! hardly a brute force in a take down, much good for much beyond chasing.

although he had never dove into arts of fishing or small game much beyond necessity.

are you wanting to hunt tonight?

he would not mind, he figured. as good as anything else.

A cheeky smile spread across her face. No, I plan 'ta pull weeds.

The water was still tonight. Despite the glow of the moon and the way the light turned the reeds a muted yellow-gray around them, the water itself remained brackish and black.

Mag observed the boy a moment and then motioned for him to stand at the lakeside with her, where the soil was loose and closer to mud. I 'ben so busy gatherin' that I haven't had dinner. Methinks, if ya want a lesson, it'll cost ya.

Fer every frog you nab fer us tonight, I'll give you one more fact. Would he take the deal? He seemed amenable to their arrangement before, and she had come when called; perhaps he did not want to risk the wet, or the cold.

The frogs would be more active in the next few hours. Being nocturnal, their activity always increased as the sun set and Mag expected their calls to be prolific, which would help Veran to hunt them.

every frog he nabbed?!

never before had he hunted them. entirely uncertain of what the best way to catch them would be. maybe it was like a rabbit? both hopped, right? one was just...slimy, slick. a water beast more than not.

he stood next to her with a deep breath. the air felt thick around the water.

alright, okay. deal.

because he did really want to help her and learn from her.

he tried to keep an ear out for anything but it seemed like he'd very much need to search through the mud himself.

a cricket taunted him somewhere far off.

Her tail waved when he agreed - the closest thing to a happy, clapping dance that Mag was likely to perform. She saw the look he gave the water and almost laughed at him, but she knew how fragile the male ego was, and besides - they were friends, and that would have only disheartened him.

I'll give ya one fer free! Came her compromise, as she settled upon the bank, in a spot she meant to truly pull weeds, and reeds, and anything else that floated by, to pass the time.

If ya sit still and quiet, they'll forget about us bein' here. You'll hear 'em before ya see 'em. Especially now, in the dark. The silly things were always the loudest at night when they thought themselves safe.

The look she passed him then was one of encouragement, motioning for him to go and to try.

for her prickly way of talking, she was kind. kinder than he felt he deserved sometimes — but he kept his pity party locked up.

he nodded softly. grateful for her free advice.

he moved a few stretches away from her before he stilled on stick legs. his head hung a bit low, ears kept out for the first things he may hear.

soon enough there'd be a sound that had him perking his head back up.

The woman did not move. She watched him as he watched the water, and then saw his ears tremble.

There was no use for her to get working yet on the weeds. Mag didn't want to disturb the boy from his first attempt. Besides, if he brought her anything, she'd have time while she ate to pluck at the surrounding flora; who was to say she'd tell him the truth every time?

A bullfrog sounded distantly — then a second or two later, a rival one responded quite far off from that. They were only warming up, Mag reasoned.

it could have been a series of things that led to a miss.

maybe he lunged too soon, maybe he missed the mark entirely. it even could have been the way the murky water splashed back up on him when he pounced.

regardless all he felt was water and mud. slick between his teeth and now marking his throat.

he was nothing but embarrassed.

so he stayed very, very still. belly in the mud, hiding below the tall grass.

His attempt led to failure. This was the real test: would he give up, or did he truly want to earn himself some knowledge? Veran settled among the reeds and Mag waited patiently to see what he might do.

In the dark, even with the moonlight upon his buttery silhouette, Mag had a hard time following him with her eyes. He hid among the reeds and the mud, much as a frog might.

Something moved among the grasses before her but Magnolia did not respond to it; she heard the plop that signaled something had splashed by in the water and knew from experience it was a frog, and that it was headed somewhere along Veran's eyeline.

There came a series of croaks from around them both, as if the frogs were singing a mocking song.

a symphony of his own failure was what it sounded like.

the frogs grew louder once he had settled among the muck and reeds. this time he felt a little bit more certain about what to do. so when one was within his grasp, he made a move.

only to have a narrow miss. well, partial miss. veran had bit down too hard and was left with only a bit of frog leg in his mouth. but surely that meant the frog would not be able to escape so easy. if it had not been stunned entirely.

he stayed on it.

like a prowling panther, he was determined to pick off his prey.

There came a splash again, but it was larger, and Magnolia saw it was Veran's attempt to grab for a frog that caused the ruckus. She hoped he was successful - for her own benefit more than his, truthfully - and when she smelled blood, she was more alert.

The woman licked her lips. She was about to praise him for his success when she saw the dangling leg without its body. With a sigh she settled back again to wait and watch, and idly began to pluck at some of the grasses. The subtle movements she employed might not disturb the frogs, or it might send them out among the edgewater.

At least he'd gotten a taste.

the taste was all he needed.

the frog could not manage to get away fast enough and soon it was scooped up into his jaws. only for him to very quickly take it right back to magda. he'd do his best to be softer in his movements through the waterways.

his plan was to leave it with her and (hopefully) gather another.

still he kept an ear out in case she had something to say.

Mag had stripped the heads off a pair of rushes she had plucked. The stalks she was careful with; but when the boy returned to her and left behind the bulbous body of a frog with one leg missing, she beamed to him. It was best not to speak - but later when she gave his lesson, she would of course praise him appropriately.

He had already turned to hunt further, indicating to Magnolia that he was devoted. Veran proved to be hungry for something. Maybe it was the frog blood now that he'd had a taste, or the thrill of the hunt, or - and more likely - he was keen on getting as much knowledge as he could in exchange.

This one's just like me, Mag thought as she watched him trawl the edge of the lake, feeling mightily proud.

he had learned.

while he would not be a pro by any means, he had quickly learned when to plunge and when to not to. that if he stayed low and still for long enough among the reeds that they'd be more inclined to sing their songs.

the next time he returned to her, it was with two. one was measly in comparison to the other, but it was better than nothing. at least this time they seemed to be entirely intact.

it should be noted that gathering two took him a touch longer this time, obviously. regardless he kept up his end of the deal with pride and hoped she hadn't minded the wait.

i'll get better. he assured her as he set them down.

She had a small stack of neatly cut and readied horsetail, with another pile of their ends, most of which were disintegrating in to plush seeds in the water or forgotten in the mud.

The boy arrived with two frogs and Mag was thrilled! She looked upon Veran with deeper pride. He spoke with humility and she tsked.

Ya learn quick! Those look delicious. C'mere, rest'n get warm. She pat the earth nearby with a paw. Should we eat now? Or didja want yer lesson?

he did not need to be told twice to rest up.

the fact of the matter was he was exhausted. mentally and physically — but he had realized something important. that it had felt good to provide. to be given the opportunity to prove himself in a means that wasn't just...brute strength.

magda had not tsk'd him for a lack of physical strength.

he didn't need to be a soldier to catch her frogs.

you should eat first. he hummed softly in response, head draped down onto his paws. he felt at ease. he felt soothed.

content to have been useful to her.