Green or blue? Iarkspur was faced with a terrible decision. Difficult and life-changing. Should she take her green bag with her, or her blue one? The green would remind her of home, but the blue, the blue would be a signifier of the changing times in her life.

“Take the green, the blue one is a little self-centered if you ask me. Too garish.” Her matron, her mother, Cytisus stood at the entrance to Iarkspur’s shed.

Why did I even consider the blue, what a silly color, Iarkspur thought, already filling the leaf-pattern bag with her supplies.

“Why are you rushing so much? That eager to leave us?”

“No, mother, only excited to see what the world offers.”

Cytisus scoffed and shuffled closer to wrap Iarkspur in a leathery hug. She smelt old. Not in a bad way, but then again, Iarkspur had known the smell of all her matrons for as long as she could remember. To her, they might as well be as old as the trees they lived among. They likely are, she thought, smiling down at the old lady. The lady tried to smile back, but her face didn’t quite allow for that kind of stretch. Much of her body was covered in fungal patches that contorted her skin and restricted her movement. The others, Levena, Maglee and Urlatha, were similarly affected by the nature around them. Iarkspur had been told that it was simply because they had been apart of nature for so long that nature had become a part of them. She had no reason to doubt any of them, so she took their word for it.

She wasn’t nearly as old, barely twenty and already a foot taller than any one of the curled-up women that called themselves mother. Perhaps I will curl up enough to seem that small when I get to their age, she thought before shaking it out of her mind.

Iarkspur was slim, like a twig, as Levena was fond of saying. Standing almost six feet tall, her narrow frame was emphasized by her height.

She followed Cytisus out of the shed, bag pulled over one shoulder, belt compartments filled with various herbs and potions for the journey. She had a special doll that she could poke at with a needle, should she get angry. Urlatha had assured her it wasn’t bound to an actual soul, it was more for getting the emotions out, so why worry? She did sometimes feel sorry for the doll on her worse days; perhaps getting a nastier cut from falling over a rock.

“Are you all set?” Urlatha asked as she stepped out of the tent. All three of the old women looked to be holding back tears.

“Yup,” Iarkspur said, “all packed and eager to get going.” Her attempt at comfort, via a smile, vanished as soon as she realized what she had said. “Not like that though. I will miss you all, I promise. You know I have to do this.”

“I wish you wouldn’t,” Maglee said, “but all birds must leave the nest to soar the skies.”

“Look at you getting all fluffy with the words,” Iarkspur said, hugging her, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“You know we love you,” Levena chimed in.”

“Of course.” Iarkspur pulled her into the second hug.

“And?”

“And I love all of you. Obviously.”

Iarkspur embraced Urlatha and stepped back to look at all four at once. The way they huddled together, small and frail. If Iarkspur hadn’t grown up and learning just how strong each one was, she would likely break down into the tears she could already feel welling. “Firm but fair”, was how Cytisus phrased it. Their little life in the clearing of the great Forest of Urkeoaes. Each one of them had their own shelter around the central fire-pit, in front of which they were all saying their goodbyes.

The tree trunks were all she had known; each one thick enough to dwarf the size of the encampment on diameter alone. She now had her chance to make her way out of this country and see the world outside of this forest. Is it even a country? Is it just a large forest? Iarkspur kept her worry from reaching her face, smiling and waving as she backed away. She only stopped waving once she was fully around the tree and out of sight. She had forgotten all the general knowledge she had been taught about the treacherous world beyond the wood. She had to see it for herself however. See the expansive seas and towering buildings. The people of all sorts. She had rarely seen anyone besides her matrons and even then, she had been forbidden to make her presence known. They could have been kidnappers or murderers for all she knew.

Enough of that. You’re on your way to your next season.

Iarkspur set her jaw, tilted her head up high, her pointed ears poking out of her knotted blonde hair. She then picked a direction and walked.

She smelt it on the second day of travel. She had woken up and expected to hear the usual sounds of birds going about their business, or various smaller animals rustling around the undergrowth. It was silent. The only sense that helped was her nose, as she smelt cooked meat. It reminded her of some of the roasts her mothers had cooked up over the years.

She decided to follow the scent towards her first adventure, expecting to meet some hunters cooking breakfast at a camp. She made sure to stay downwind of the scent, to keep it from getting away from her. Whoever is cooking is not doing it that well, she thought. There was a steadily increasing layer of smoke passing by overhead. Far too much smoke for an efficient campfire.

Something moved behind a tree up ahead. She could hear whatever it was walking slowly. The sound of footsteps felt uncommon in the quiet. She picked out that it was likely not a beast, bipedal definitely. She got low and slunk behind the tree closest to her. The trunks were not as large as those nearer home, but they were still large enough to hide a couple horses behind if she had needed.

She peeked around. There was a man walking with purpose, although not rushing, even with all the smoke in the air. He wore deep reds, his multiple layers of clothing blending the shades, topped with a gold trimmed, crimson cape. He had bright white hair and his eyes were- Oh gods.

The man bolted as they made eye contact. He must be the one setting the fires, Iarkspur thought, pulling out a potion from her belt and downing it in one gulp. She reached out with a hand, running after him and the roots of the trees nearest him started to tear out of the ground and grab at his ankles, then his knees. A sword appeared in his hand, his stride barely faltering as he cut away the irritating plants. As he looked down to keep his footing, a large root swung out and hit him squarely in the torso. Iarkspur worked quickly to knit the plants over his prone body, pinning him to the ground as she approached.

“Who are you,” she said, kicking his leg.

“That is not important. You intrigue me, but I don’t have time to chat today.”

He snapped his fingers and the roots closed over nothing. The man appeared, mid-run a good distance away, but she would have to leave the growing fire to chase after him. Hopefully he only set one, she thought, turning towards the smoke.

She ran ahead, passing by a good number of trees, until the smoke was thick enough to begin impeding her vision. There were large trees that kept the fire somewhat contained and thankfully hadn’t begun to burn, but something in the clearing beyond was fiercely alight.

She took steps to run towards it and tripped on something, a small rabbit in a green waistcoat. He had golden earrings running up one ear, a couple connected by a small silver chain. He was breathing faintly, although unconscious and had deep cuts all over his body. One ear had been sawn off completely. Iarkspur pulled out a second potion and picked out a couple purple flowers from her pouch and made the rabbit eat the flowers before washing them down with the purple liquid. The cuts on the rabbit, whilst still there, stopped bleeding and slowly formed scabs. He might live, but it was going to be painful.

She left him there, satisfied that he would be okay for a short moment and pulled on the last dredges of energy she had gained from her potion to pull up large roots to smother the flames, kicking up dirt and small rocks in the process to put them out completely. Completely tapped out of strength, she staggered over to the base of the where the fire had been put out, to see what exactly could have been burning in the clearing.

She fell to her knees and threw up.

In front of her lay possibly hundreds of rabbits, dressed up similarly to the one she had helped. There were broken shards of planks, some evidence of doors and walls and furniture. All had been torn down and added to the fire.

She looked around, in tears. She could not see any more survivors. The flames were gone, although the smoke persisted. She felt disgusted in herself for how good it had smelt.

She ran back to the unconscious rabbit, picked him up, and ran off, in the opposite direction to where the man had run.

The rabbit blinked open blood red eyes a good hour after she had set him down on the grass. They were far enough away from the flames to not have to see the smoke, smell the aftermath, or be found by a madman wanting to cut off loose ends.

“What happened?” The rabbit said, coughing out the remains of the smoke that had settled into his lungs.

“What do you remember?” Iarkspur replied, not wanting to drop it all on him too hard. Or really at all if she had the opportunity.

“Enough. Who are you?”

“A passer-by. I noticed the fire and saw you were injured. My name is Iarkspur.”

“And the others?”

“Would you like a drink?”

“The others?”

“You sound like you’re dehydrated. I really think you n-”

“What I need is answers. Give them to me or leave me alone.”

“You were the only one that made it.” Iarkspur hadn’t made eye contact with the rabbit yet, but felt compelled to look at him now. Silently processing his situation. “The drink?” He didn’t make any indication she had spoken, but accepted the small flask anyway.

He downed his drink and got up, flinching at the various cuts, bruises and burns. He began to walk away, back the way Iarkspur had taken him.

“Where are you going?”

“To see for myself.” He turned around to her, his breathing labored. “Did you bury them?”

She looked away again.

“Then I shall be doing that too.”

Iarkspur waited a few moments after he had gone before following, keeping a respectful distance the whole way.

She went to help him in digging the graves, going to move roots to make it easier, but he stopped her.

“I will not cut corners with the respectful departure of everyone I love. Loved,” he said, the last word cracking in his throat. Iarkspur watched on as he dug each grave himself and carried each body to their own resting place, saying his final words to each one as he did. After a few hours of watching him go back and forth, she stood up from the grass as he approached.

“Where will you go now?” She said.

“To find the man that did this.”

“How will you know where to look?”

“He’s the most famous caster on the continent.”

“Does he have white hair and wear red?” Iarkspur watched as the rabbit gritted his teeth enough for her to hear.

“Yes, why?”

“No reason. Can I come along?”

“The company may be welcome, yes. Any more questions?”

“Only three right now. Who is the famous caster, what is your name and where are we going?”

“I’m Arledge. Arledge Clove. And you and I are taking a trip to High Morr.”