Another scrape of the of the knife against the dull green twig, and another strip of bark shifted and moved into the small pile of similarly colored bark, careful to not let any fall to the dirt. The same repetitive motion done again and again until the stick is white, save for what little bits that I have left either through negligence or the small growths on the wood diverting the straight path of my knife. Another stick to the pile, another light toss and another landing. Another.

 I have been kindly asked, although I never actually had a say in the matter, to help with the work of someone else. A job that rightfully I didn't have to do but was allowed to and pardoned from the work I could've done in the fields. I sat inside a roundhouse, itself a short distance away from the rest of the village, on the ground and next to a respectful amount of baskets full of these same sticks. Twelve baskets, to be precise, last I counted it. Perhaps some more were sneakily added in without my knowing. The light coming both from what little rays managed to get through the canopy above and the small central fire that I've occasionally attended to. Again I scraped and finally again finished another twig, I opted to gently place this one into the basket.

 "Still working on the sticks, Attie? I would've been done by now."

 With a jolt and unfortunately a practiced care of keeping the knife away from my skin I turned around to face my friend, again with no real say on my part, Brenna. Standing within the doorframe and carrying another basket of twigs, her dark brown eyes on me and her lips deformed into a slight smirk. That smirk. She was lying, the time it took for her to fill the basket with twigs allowed me to complete only a single basket. Roughly an hour has passed and it's not possible to do nine times the work in the same amount of time. With an exaggerated frown I put aside the newly picked up twig and stood up. I shifted the knife and held it by the blade, and gave her the handle. She laughed through her nose and made a small smile.

 "I'd appreciate the help, and you have nothing else to do. Sit down and get back to work. Don't get pouty over a bit of teasing," she casually placed the basket within the cluster of it's like and sat cross legged near me, only separated by the pot of bark I've positioned conveniently next to me. Moving her hands and grasping at the pot, she delicately dragged the pot closer to her and in the center between us. She grabbed a twig and started scraping, uncaring of my standing defiance. With a sigh I plopped back down and resumed the work.

 If there was one thing Brenna wasn't lying about it would be the speed of her scraping. She might not be ten times my better but being twice as fast as I am would be no overstatement, she worked the well cared for blade against the wood with truly practiced grace, carefully balancing gathering the most amount of bark with the least amount of strokes, while leaving very little bark left. She had callouses on her slightly tanned fingers that I lacked, but more than that the ease with which she moved made me feel amateurish in comparison. Not that I'm not an amateur. Perhaps I was staring too much, her face lifted away from the twig and she directed her eyes towards me with a questioning glint. I looked away in embarrassment. I was not enchanted by her skill, I merely wanted to ascertain the validity of her word. Being a bit more effective than I am doesn't hold cause for her statement. Deciding my reason for staring herself she decided to give advice.

 "Forcing it doesn't really work, you know. Only the bark itself is needed, cutting too deep into the wood is a waste of time. Align the edge right, hold the twig nice and steady and voop, the bark comes right off." With the same practiced ease that she's showcased before, and acting like her advice was useful, she continued. "No jagged lines for the blade to get caught in. And make sure the knife is sharp, you wouldn't have to put so much effort into it if it were nice and sharp." She turned her eyes towards me once again and repeated the motion. The bark cleanly separated from the twig. With a nod she says, "Got it?" and I meekly nod in return, keeping my eyes on my stick. I placed the edge of my knife against the wood and pushed down and separated the bark as I've done thousands of times before. I turned towards her to gauge her reaction, to no surprise she had her smirk and lifted eyebrows ready for my stare.

 "You've got enough sticks to practice with. Hone the blade, it's clearly gotten a bit dull," she said and focused her attention once again on the finger thick stick in her hands, but not before idly taking off her honing stone pendant and handing it over to me. I looked down at my copper knife checked its straightness. With no curling and knicks on the blade and the knowledge of Brenna pestering me to hone the knife regardless of how sharp it really is, I decided to hone the knife. Grabbing the dark gray stone I set my concentration on tending to the double-edged blade.

 "We'll go collect nettles once we're done with this, hopefully you'll manage to cast the ward correctly." I gave no mind to Brenna's plans and focused on making sure my finger doesn't accidentally get knicked by the blade. It's nothing new and it doesn't surprise me to know her mom gave us the task of collecting the nettles. "Mom has also asked us to collect some puffballs and maidenhair spleenwart, Heber's been complaining of a cough and it doesn't look to be a cold. After all that it'd aught to be time to head home for the both of us," the rhythmic scraping stopped as she asked for my acknowledgement. I nodded, assuming she'd see, and once again heard her scrape another line of bark from the wood.

 Time had passed, the sun had made through its zenith and reached halfway into evening. The sticks and twigs had been debarked, the bark itself compacted into a pot and placed next to a wooden cabinet filled with tiny bowls of dozens of different herbs and mushrooms. I would likely tonight be dreaming of shaving bark off of twigs. Brenna had taken several breaks throughout, and I had worked the entire time but despite the extra time she had outpaced me well above what I had been able to do.

I'd have to admit that she had a good excuse to be so lazy, although I should also be fair and say her breaks were never long. Regardless, the work had done and we were heading out of the house and into the cool and slightly moist air of the forest. A small clearing had been made, the trees cut down to make room for some level space. The light peaked through the canopy but was completely unobstructed within the center of the clearing. Fences outlined a small garden of carrots and beetroot. Despite being a herbalist, the raven-haired woman didn't care for any herbs herself. 'I have the forest for that,' she would say in her light accent, she was probably right. The forest is much larger and much better suited for growth than whatever a mere human could set up.

 Brenna walked past me and went towards the pathway that lead to the village, the house itself being only two minutes away from the clearing that worked as the border between the forest and our village. I picked up two baskets and then followed her quickly since she would leave me behind if I stood around for too long. A small, well used trail led away from the main path and into the forest which Brenna took. We walked in silence through the forest, paying attention for any of the plants requested of us. A basket of nettles would be enough, which would take a while, and it would be better to split up and search than to stick together. I snapped my finger to catch Brenna's attention and handed a basket over to her, which she took with a nod and made for off trail. She's likely memorized some spots of nettle, or perhaps of the puffballs or maidenhair, and went towards that direction. I continued along the trail.

 There was a small natural clearing thirty or so minutes ahead the trail that I would likely find puffballs in. Small mushrooms that best grow in open fields of grass, very round and range from white to brown in color. Useful for stopping bleeding. Despite spring not being the time when puffballs grow most abundantly it's best to start collecting it before anyone suffers any injury this time of year. Although it is useful regardless of the time. I do not know what variety of maidenhair was requested, nor where to find it. I would need Brenna for that.

 The dirt beneath my feet was well used. It was packed, no plants or weeds have been able to find purchase within the ground, only along the edges did small greenery start to grow. It was a thin pathway, only one or two people ever went through here at a time. The herbalist herself most likely carved this out of the forest and it would likely stay for generations more, or at least one more now that Brenna is here. The trees were old, the forest itself ancient and existed long before any of us had. Moss covered itself in patterns of patches on trees, gnarly branches covered overhead and filtered out the sun in a cacophony of leaves. Birds chirped and lived, nesting both high and low on the trees both alive and dead, a wide variety of weeds and ferns fought over land on the floor. Dead trees covered with mushrooms and insects can occasionally be seen.

This is the forest, one dominated by mostly oak. At times it worked as the boundary of my world, now it's as boring as harvesting crops and tilling soil.

 I spotted a small group of nettles about a foot tall growing around the trunk of a rotten and dead tree. Moving off the trail and towards it, I prepared myself for the collection. The majority of it could be safely harvested without having to worry about over harvesting, but it's not always certain it'll grow back with the same vigor or volume. Only a couple of inches are collected from the top instead.

 I prepared my ward, hoping it would be strong enough a cast. Breathing deeply and concentrating on the air that surrounded me I breathed in a wisp of wind elemental and covered my hands within a thin layer of the airy substance, carefully constructing the spell within my mind and coagulating the color around my arms. Then I collected saliva inside my mouth and started drawing the energies in and spreading the light blue water in droplets across my skin, praying for its healing to soothe any stings that might reach through the barrier. With a controlled exhale I finished the construction. I have never been good with spells and wards. Both the herbalist and her daughter seem to see so much more than I do, where they can see the fine details of the elementals I can only see vague hazes of its presence. Even in my most vivid moments I can barely see the depths that even Brenna, who is about as trained as I am with the sight, causally sees without much thought.

 Setting the basket down next to the nettles, I gave a look at my left hand. If done properly a thin layer of light cloudy mist should surround my arms, but the spell seemed to only have partially stuck. It was meant to stay static, as if like cloth, over my skin. But the mist rolled through and in certain areas licked away from my skin, slowly releasing the elements back into the natural world. It should work still. I started harvesting the plants. Gently pulling taught the stem of nettles, I felt the slightly slippery sensation of the warding push again my fingers. A good sign. Drawing the knife against and cutting about four inches off the plant and dropped it into the basket. I had felt no sting, hopefully the spell will hold up for as long as there are stinging nettles. I moved across towards another of the weed and repeated the same motion. The spell had lasted me nearly the entirety of the harvest, but towards the end I had started feeling the characteristic burning of the sting and the reactive cooling sensation of the water elemental at work. At this point it was like torn and ragged cloth. The ward had served its purpose, with a couple waves of my arms the rest of the spell dissipated back into the world.

 Picking back up the brown willow basket I continued along the trail. I had walked roughly one third of the way to the clearing and had already collected a good amount of nettles, I only need three or four more nettle clumps to fill half the basket. I fully expect Brenna to have collected her fair share by the time I've gotten back, hopefully she would have gotten the maidenhair by then.

 I traveled through the trail and spotted a single more cluster for nettles and harvested those as well. The ward was slightly more effective that time, it didn't leak out and I felt no pain from touching the plants. But the mist still had movement. Regardless I've reached the clearing, through a sudden stopping of the ancient trees revealed a small well lit hill covered by mid-shin high grass. At the highest point ontop the mound a single tree stood vigilant, tall and straight and relatively young compared to its peers.

 I didn't know why this clearing was here, whether it was made by human hands or as a silly change of pace by the spirit of the earth. I had walked with the Herbalist here before and she spoke to me, and to me specifically since Brenna was not with us at the time, that this was a plot of land cleared by the faeries. She said they did it for no reason other than because she had wished to find a place to rest out here in the forest. A place of rest it was, her husband was buried here and his gravesite marked by a single round rock to the young tree. He had died five years back in a skirmish against a large group of outlaws, at least fifteen men tried to steal our crops and land. I barely knew him, and he treated me no different than most of the other villagers. Perhaps not so scornful of my presence if I needed something nice to remember him by. Three of our villagers died in their effort to send the outlaws back, two of them from infection and one from a rocked slinged to his head.

 I wasn't there to watch, of course, being seven my mother had hid me in our home and away from the fighting. I had only known the details from a small group gathering mourning the loss of the three villagers, my dad who had took part in the fighting didn't tell me anything about what happened. Life was still the same despite the battle so I had no way of knowing up until then.

 I sniffed the air and walked into the clearing, the trail having been beaten by the grass and ending at the point of the clearing. I wore browns cotton trousers, purposely made too large for my build so that I may grow into them, and leather shoes with poorly maintained lacing. Any fleas that got on me here would be few. I walked and tread through the clearing and towards the tree, wanting the highest point in order to get the widest view of my surroundings. The hill was not large at all and the clearing only a rough three acres of land. The walk had not been long, I had walked and played in the forest all my life, although even then not as accustomed to her as the children of hunters were, I was not tired and needed no rest.

 Once ontop the hill and next to the tree I gave a courteous nod to the rock, and again to the tree, and surveyed the area. Green and light yellows dominated, small flowers of red, pink, and white dotted the landscape in clumps. The land was flowing and smooth, very little to no stones made appearance either because of there being none, or having been engulfed by the green tide. A white and brown dot wouldn't be impossible to find. Luckily spotting a group of the mushrooms next to a large stone I headed down and kept my eyes trained on the ground. Perhaps I would find more mushrooms, or avoid my foot getting trapped and possibly sprained inside a hole. Or some insect or animal waiting to bite or strike, I don't know, but none did.

 No warding or spells was needed for collecting. Not even a knife. Once I reached the rock I leaned down and inspected the brown, round mushroom for its firmness. Slightly squishy, but firm. Twisting it out of the ground I cleanly cut into it. Pure white, the bottom had been slightly eaten by bugs and yellowed as a result. But that could be easily cut away, this was a good mushroom. I repeated the same motion for the next, expecting the same result and being greeted with it. The two were very close to each other, and I looked around for any more mushrooms. Looking behind the rock I found one. Testing it revealed it to be soft, too soft. I pulled it out and used my fingers to break it apart and revealed the well eaten meat within. Bugs were still crawling inside, most of the meat dark or yellow. I tossed it away. I lurked across the rest of the field for more of its kind, keeping track of where the trail was lest I got lost. Very unlikely, but it pays well to be careful.

 I had found only four, including the ones I had picked up already, as I had walked across the field. If I had better sight I might've found more much faster, the elements can sometimes lead to mushrooms and specific varieties of plants. The colors are never uniform, and beyond the visual aspect of it there's a taste to it as well. Brenna swears there's more to it but I can't see it. Four would be enough for today, the mushrooms are roughly palm sized and the meat we can get out of it would probably be plenty enough for any injuries anyone might be cursed with.

 Before walking back through the trail home I needed to collect more of those nettles, so I walked a careful circle around the field. Each completed cycle resulting in me going further outward, and extending the amount and area I walked. The method isn't the greatest but barring having a sense, or a lot of experience with the plants, I had no other way. Noting any game trails or bird nests along the way, I found a tiny field of the hairy devils growing next to an ash tree. I chose to do more than cut off the tops, as these plants had grown nearly to my thighs at the highest, and cut it from the base. The ward this time was definitely not as effective as I would've liked. The burning of the sting was being given to me faster than what the water could soothe and heal. I had to cast it twice but the only reason I didn't do it again thrice was due to the fatigue.

 From experience, overuse of spellcraft would dull my senses until I could not taste or feel anything, and at worse render me unconscious. This was the same with both Brenna and her mother, but both of them could last much longer than I could. By the end of it both hands were covered in hives, and I dared not to heal them in fear of losing more sense than is safe to part with. The basket was full at that point, and I walked back into the clearing and through the trail towards Brenna.

 The return was the same. Nothing new or exciting happened as I went along the well used dirt path. I had spotted another group of nettles hidden away behind a tree, but I paid it no mind. The burning had long ago given way to an itch, but I tried my best to ignore it. Brenna would probably heal it for me, she isn't so mean as to let me walk around with hive covered hands. Arriving at roughly where Brenna had parted from me I picked up a stray stick and hit the tree with it. Waiting for a sound, some response, and there being none I did it again. The whack of the stick against the tree vibrated into my hands, and similarly echoed across the forest, but there was again no response. So I went off trail, hitting any tree that came close enough to me. Eventually she would respond, and if she didn't it would mean she would be back at her home or off doing something entirely different. I walked randomly, vaguely straight and sometimes curving, until I heard a faint voice.

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 "Over here," it sounded like a call. Most likely her. I walked toward the vague direction of the call and whacked against a tree every now and again to see if I was heading closer. She would respond with her own whack, not uncommon for her to do, which seemed to have been getting closer. Her whacking had stopped. I assume she was getting ready to scare me, or pounce on me, or whatever it is she was planning. I continued to whack, warily looking through the trees, and decided to stop whacking. I stood still.

 "You called?"

 And then I sighed. She had gotten behind me at one point, I would not be surprised if she had been behind me for a couple of minutes now. I turned around and stood in front of the girl, who was slightly shorter than me by a mere inch. Dressed in, well, a dress of green and white, slightly baggy on her and tied up up to reveal most of her shins. A cloak of blue with slight lines of red covered her shoulders, put together by a copper brooch, and the long dress made itself into a sleeve of white covering her arms up towards her elbows. Her dark hair was free flowing, she was not yet of age and wasn't allowed to braid or decorate it in any way. She carried her basket similarly as full of nettles as mine and the knife laid ontop, similar to mine. I looked into her eyes and nodded, shifting the basket in my hand into an one-handed hug and showed her the mushroom bounty I had harvested.

 "Good, all that's left then is to collect the maidenhair. I didn't expect you to find any, and I'm not even sure you know what it is," I shook my head at that. "Right, the variety we're looking for grows on steep cliffs or walls. Anything east facing, wide, and tall would work." She started walking and motioned for me to follow, "We're not going to be looking for any such place, I know where a cliff is nearby that I was told, by mom, the herb would be on."

 I had expected this to be another errand. We didn't need so much of the plant since it was only for one person but we wouldn't have been asked if the time it took to get it wasn't long. The distance of the walk would likely be great, but Brenna seemed to have forgotten something. Our baskets were more or less full and I would've liked to place it back home, but more importantly my hands wore covered in hives and itchy. I walked up behind her and tapped her shoulders, receiving a small surprised jerk of her shoulders.

 "What?" Looking back and a bit bashfully, she asked and waited for my gestures. First I pointed towards the basket, then I showed her my hands. Turning them from palm to back, the problem was clear and there was plenty enough light to show my pain. With upturned eyebrows and a light smile she responded, "right, we should get these baskets back before we head out. But before that, hold out your hands out please." I abided by her, setting down the basket and giving her both hands palm facing downward. She made a motion with her mouth as if collecting saliva and hovered her hands over my own. I watched as she weaved the moisture into a light mist around her fingers, which turned to floating droplets.

 The speed of her weaving was much faster than my own, much more accurate as well. I can't move the elements in the way she and her mother can no matter how long and hard I train for. With a slight pang of jealousy, and a humph on Brenna's part, the droplets surrounded and touched my hand. The effects were immediate, the itching stopped and redness and hives gave way to my normal pale skin. With a sniff and a nod from me, and an affirmation from Brenna, I picked up my basket and headed back to her home.

 I knew from experience that whenever Brenna had free time she would head into the woods and find a place to meditate. I knew one specific spot she liked, a small tributary surrounded by rocks and moss somewhere within the direction of here. I could find it and use it myself but was forbidden to come unless asked to, since she would sometimes wash herself under the small waterfall and I had once walked in on her doing that. She didn't like that at all. The flowing of the water against the rocks was very soothing, the place was usually a bit damp and the rocks a bit slippery in places. She had not gotten hurt once having been there, at least to my knowledge since she could've healed and came back, but I do sometimes worry.

 Deer sometimes would come and drink from the water, as she has told me, and she carries a charm against bears and wolves on her at all times. I wore no such charms since you'd have to be meditating, or doing something very boring, in order to use it at all. I silently visually inspected Brenna's back for any rips or tears on her clothes, seeing none I let go of my worries this time. If there were any injuries the Herbalist would most likely deal with it.

 The way back home was uneventful. Brenna didn't speak and I of course made no attempts either, but that is fine. I wasn't expecting anything. Arriving at the small roundhouse it became clear that the herbalist was home, as a small high pitched voice and a deeper, slightly accented one could be heard. The small one most likely belonged to Doireann, Brenna's little sister of six winters. A small girl who at her tallest stood at our shoulders, she'd wear the red handmedowns that use to belong to Brenna. Slightly lighter in complexion than Brenna, with brighter and almost hazel eyes of our village, she looked strikingly like a younger version of her older sister, and of course a more pale version of her mother.

 We, without wanting to rudely interrupt, walked a bit more carefully towards the door frame and peaked inside into the orange tinted inside of the house. The fire was alive still, it had better be, and the Herbalist was sitting at her small table with Doireann on her lap. She was grinding away in her stone mortar while reciting to her daughter the various names of herbs and their uses, placing no attention to our arrival although undoubtedly knowing of it.

 "Cow's tongue, not to be confused with the actual cow's tongue, for treating burns and scalds by boiling the fronds, or leaves, and making it into a salve. You remember how to make a salve, right?" Doireaann nodded absentmindedly, "Navelwort and sengreens can also be used to treat scalds. But cow's tongue is found most commonly around here. They normally hide in moist, secluded areas." The herbalist stops her grinding and turns her neck to us, eyeing both of us and the baskets we carried. "That's many times more nettles than I wanted, you two will be practicing with those tomorrow then," almost dismissive of our arrival, she turned back towards her table. "Hurry and get the maidenhair for me, it shouldn't taken too long and the more sun left the better. Leave the baskets here, take a pouch before you head out."

 "We'll be back soon," Brenna says, "and don't bore Doireann to death with lessons, mom." Doireann perks up at the thought of doing anything else but listen, and occasionally recite, her mother's words. Brenna walked up next to her mother and dropping her basket next to the pot of willow bark, she takes an empty pouch and ties the string around her wrist, walking out waiting for me to deposit my own basket.

 "Will we?" Doireann whispers as she stares up into the eyes of her mom.

 "Don't inspire false hopes into your little sister," the herbalist mocks in return, pausing her grinding and resting her brown and slightly weathered hands on her child's head. Doireann deflates at the touch of her hand, her mother responding in turn with hugging her waist and repositioning her to a better sitting position. "We'll stop when they come back. But I'll give you a short break if you tell me a herb helpful in beautifying the skin," a carrot was thrown and waited a bite, lest she got the stick.

 "Uhm," Doireann shifted herself again and thought for a while, until finally coming up with an answer, "fumewort?"

 "And how do we use fumewort?" the raven-haired mother replied.

 "Infuse it into water? Or milk, I forgot which." Slightly less confidently the small girl replied. The herbalist set aside the mortar and pat the girl on her head.

 "Both could work. Good."

 We walked off together at that point, me having collected my wooden club in case of danger, and not wanting to give Doireann any ideas of occupying us on our journey. I once again walked behind Brenna. I couldn't see her face, but I'm sure it was smiling.

 "Maidenhair spleenwort," Brenna started lecturing, "the variety of maidenhair we're gathering today. Grows on cliffs and sometimes man made walls, usually facing east. Only one or two fronds of the plant is needed, but the walk to the cliff suggested to me by mom would take a while." She turned towards me and eyed me, "if any of the brown-ones or wolves come," she slowed her speech and spoke a bit louder, "not that I wish their presence, I'm counting on you to fend them off. Got it?" I nodded and shifted the club in my hands.

 Long and sturdy, I had been gifted the club by my father and had been told to take this with me anytime I go someplace far. I had very little training with it against people. But with animals, all I needed to do was to hit with enough force or make enough noise. Not the safest journey we're undertaking here. If absolutely required I think Brenna and her charm would be somewhat helpful, she isn't entirely without defenses herself even without the charm.

 We were traveling north-east of the town through wild woods, no villages were towards these parts but we weren't walking even half a day's travel away from the village. According to Brenna by the time we've gotten back the sun should be beginning to show his descent, but there would be plenty enough light even then. Our progress was shown through the differences in what trees were present, shifting from ever-present sessile oak trees that surrounded our village to spots of rowan and birch, although oak still dominated. At one point were walking alongside a relatively steep hill. No wolves, or bears, were present, and Brenna picked up on anything as we walked towards the cliff. Perhaps our destination had a specific name but it was never mentioned to me.

 We had reached the cliff, respectfully tall and perhaps fitting for the terrain. I had no way of knowing, we had mostly walked in the flattest areas we could find to avoid pointless fatigue. I imagine this is a lightly more mountainous and tricky area to walk through, the trees that surrounded us having shifted away from the oaks into something much thinner and taller. Willow trees were present, and so were birch, but that is not the focus of my trip here. The cliff was indeed east facing, but without getting closer I wouldn't be able to tell if the plant was indeed growing here. So we did, up until we were able to touch the walls.

 The cliff was at least sixty feet tall, most likely a few feet higher, and it showed. The sun was illuminating us from overhead shows the cliff's face near perfectly, the white-greyish stone annoyingly bright against my eyes. Various plants and grew on the base, some having had crawled up about ten feet high but the majority were near the dirt rather than growing directly on the stone. Brenna seemed to have caught eye of something as she walked alongside the side of the cliff. I followed her as she made it to a moss covered pile of rocks with a plant that looks suspiciously like maidenhair crowing within a crevice. She took her knife and cut off two of the fronds and packed it into her pouch, and made her way back towards me.

 "I would collect more, since this is such a tedious trip but I was given a pouch rather than a larger bag, I assume she didn't want us to collect too much. Two would be enough, like I said. Let's go back." Nodding my head and turning my back away from her as I have already memorized the way back more or less I made my way back towards the village. As entirely uneventful as our way back, up until we've reached the sloping hill. There Brenna had called out to me in a near hush, calm and collected without a care in the world, "Attie, I think we're being followed." I turned to face her. I felt nothing. Although my senses were still dull from the wards I had casted previously today I don't think I was as dull as to ignore the signs of dangerous animals lurking about. The birds were still chirping, the insects still doing whatever it is they normally do, as far as I could tell everything was the same. But this is Brenna and she could sense much more than I could.

 I nodded at her and place my hand out in a gesture of questioning. Her voice might betray no sign of fear, but her eyes were much wider than they normally are. Her dark eyes warily watching over the forest, she must've not catch my sign. I tapped my club on the ground gently as to make a little noise and immediately got her attention back with a very quick turn of her head. "Attie," my name itself a near threaten. I repeated the motion, nodding my head and gesturing as if questioning. She breathed through her nose as she prepared to tell me what she was feeling. "I think something watching us. I think it's a bear, I've felt this before with mom. I wanted to mention it, perhaps it's lurking around somewhere around us and not truly following." Her voice cracked slightly towards the end, her voice betraying her fear finally. I nodded and eyed the trees behind her back for any sign of beasts. None were, and noticing my slight relaxation Brenna nodded and continued to walk.

 I waited for her to go on ahead but she stopped and gestured for me to walk ahead. Slightly confusing, since if the bear was stalking us she would be the one closest to it. However having no method of complaint other than waiting, which was bad, I walked ahead. Luckily there was no encounter with any bears throughout our journey back to the herbalist's roundhouse. A very good thing.

 By the time we've gotten back the sun had turned his sky orange, the trees casting long shadows across the land. The forest was getting dark fast, if we had stayed for much longer it would've been significantly more difficult to have gotten back. But we did and without any lost limbs or worse. The smell of vegetables wafted through the air, and the light of the house guided us towards it. The day was more or less over and it would've been a happy relief to finally sit down and eat something, neither of us had eaten all day outside of breakfast. Presumably, the Brenna might had stolen a few berries on our trek or by her own without me noticing.

 Most likely tomorrow we would be collecting berries. But no more work today, heading inside we were greeted by the sight of the Herbalist and her daughter playing with wooden figures. I imagined she had given up trying to teach the poor girl and decided to play house with her, or perhaps tell the odd fairytale. There was a pot of boiled vegetables and good sized chunks of meat, a loaf of bread having been cut and a small tub of butter prepared. They had clearly been waiting long for our arrival. Whatever the herbalist was doing she stopped as she noticed us. She most likely noticed us long before we entered the house.

 "Finally you two've come back," she gave her small wooden horse over to Doireann and stood up from the ground. Her hair, which was previously braided into a bun, had been let down, her brown face slightly contorted in displeasure over out late arrival. "You're late. Very late. No matter, come, everything is ready to be eaten. Please set aside the things and wash your hands," taking clay bowls and taking large scoops of the stew into her wooden ladle and served portions and set them aside ontop a small wooden table. We went by her word and found the small pot of water after putting the items in their respective places. My club text to the entrance, our knives ontop of a table. We roughly scrubbed our hands, in turn as the pot wasn't large enough to fit both of us in the same time, and then went to the bowls and sat and ate. Brenna looked a bit shaken, which her mother picked up on, and was forced to say our tale.

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 It's been two years since I've been asked to help with the raven haired herbalist's work. Myself being born within a family of farmers I had expected to live the rest of my life as a farmer. There has never been anything special about me, nothing to have made me think I would be suitable to work for someone as learned as a herbalist. What the rest of the kids and villagers call being dumb being the only thing that made me stand out as I've never been able to speak, and what little sounds I've managed to make are more growls and grunts than speech. Even those I have trouble bringing out on command. But the suitable life of a farmer wasn't my fate, apparently, since for as long I could remember I've had been able to see colors and shapes overlaid over objects and people.

 Soft colors, barely perceptible unless I concentrated and often times completely ignorable. For the first ten years of my life I had thought everyone else shared this perception but simply never mentioned it. The turning point was on Brenna's tenth spring when she suddenly but silently worked the forms and shapes clumsily through her body. In breathing she would take in more than just the air, white wisps of color, but also the light yellow colors of the sun through her fingers and the pale brown of the dirt through her bottom, moving them in a way that I've not seen anyone else do. She sat still under the protection of an oak tree on the edges of the forest. It was newly spring and the cycle of tilling, seeding, and harvesting of the grain would begin again. I had been entrusted with an adult's share of work and had been working in the field. Mercifully my share of work was closest to my own home, but this time this fact only served to inconvenience me as she was on the other side of the field, along the pathway towards her own home.

 I first decided to wave at her, to see if she would see. Sitting so silently next to the forest was dangerous and someone should tell her to sit, if she wanted to rest, somewhere more safe. But her eyes were closed, and she made no reaction. I'd be surprised if she could see my flailing even with her eyes open. I had set aside my adze axe and made my way towards her, motioning to my dad my sign for "wait," two short claps of my palm and made for Brenna. There was no need to jog or run as the walk wouldn't take long, our village was a very small one at roughly eighty people at most and the fields weren't all that large. I passed through the small village of roundhouses, their yellow roofs of reeds and carefully maintained fencing as I walked towards Brenna. Being completely ignored by the villagers working their own fields, which was nice, along the pathway towards the raven-haired herbalist's own home, keeping my eye on the path. She was not directly on or next to the path, she had decided to walk a good distance away in order to sit and rest, choosing to sit on the grass under the sessile oak tree. It was at about this distance that I first noticed the fluctuations of the air and dirt colors, the silent breathing working as if the heartbeat of all the movement that surrounded her. I had concentrated at that moment, this was not something I've seen done before. I got off the path and stepped onto the green grass and towards Brenna, making sure not to make too much sound and disrupt whatever she was doing. But I was apparently too loud, as the world stopped and the colors halted its movement, her eyes open and staring at me. I panicked at that moment and jumped back.

 "What is it, dummy?" she asked with a soft voice, almost threatening annoyance despite the patient tone. I stood there for a second as I took in and measured the experience, before suddenly twirling my hands in the air in front of me. I wasn't entirely sure what I was trying to express, but I wanted her to do the thing again. The heartbeat, I had thought, and used one hand to imitate the beat on my chest. Two quick taps of my breast, a pause, and again, then a twirl of my hands to show the movement of the wind. Throughout she only looked at me blankly, perhaps slightly amused. Bless her for understanding what I was trying to convey, as her eyes widened slightly. Out of all the kids and even adults she seemed the one who most easily understood my gestures.

 "You can see?" wanting to confirm her intuition she asked, but I looked puzzled. Of course I can see, I have eyes and I'm not old. "No you idiot, you can see the elements? The air, the color of the sun, the darkness of the earth?" I had no idea what the elements were then, but I tentatively nodded. She extended her hand out palm facing me and with some concentration said, "really? Then what color element do I have on my hand and on which finger?" With my left hand I held up my pinky finger, and with my right I waved my hand through the air. She had overlaid a small amount of white color over her pinky finger. She looked at me stupidly for a moment before running up to me and grabbing my hands and taking me to her home. She introduced me to her mother and tested me once again, and from then on I was made into the Herbalist's apprentice.