One morning, three weeks after the death of his father, Ricky found himself on a trail which he often travelled in his free time. His job as guide to notable figures travelling between villages in Westland had kept him busy after the suspicious death of his father. The investigation had concluded only that something huge had done it, and then disappeared without a trace.

His feet had taken him away, and he'd found himself on one of the trails running closest to the barrier. The feeling of dread and whispers just out of earshot unsettled most who passed this way, and kept the trail from being properly cleared. Only the tireless efforts of the border guards, his friend Chase the leader among them, kept the barrier trail passable. Accustomed to these trails from the past few years learning the ways of Westland, he knew every plant and tree to be found.

Zee, his idosyncratic Grandad, was fond of distilling concoctions and salves from things he requested Ricky find for him. This had naturally required Ricky to travel the length and breadth of Westland learning about everything therein. "I'm not as young as I used to be, my boy" the old man would say, with a cheeky glint in his eye.

Blinking, suddenly, Ricky noticed that he had seen something that was out of the ordinary. He snapped himself out of his daydream, and took a steadying breath.

Without any answers in the investigation of the death of his father, he'd not been able to reach any closure in the matter. Hence his wanderings today, and in the weeks previously.

Drawing himself fully upright, he closed his eyes, and let the sounds of the forest pass over him, reminding him that he was safe. These plants and trails were his old friends. Whatever had surprised him would soon make itself known.

Opening his eyes, he cast his piercing blue eyed gaze about him.

There!

On the path ahead of him, a single oak had been strangled by a strangely purplish plant. The vines he knew of were green or grey, and had very different seed pods..

This plant had sprouted in the time since he'd passed earlier in the week. Nothing he'd ever seen before grew that fast. Only stories of fast growing grasses, he'd heard, but they were woody, and tall.

Drawing nearer to the confusing plant, he saw that it had pods on the vine. He knew that shape intimately!! Prior to his death, his father's blue message jar had always had a dried pod in it. Why it might be kept in a jar, only used for leaving notes in when his father as away, was completely out of the question. His father had done many strange things in the course of raising his son. Ricky's parents had been well known for their controversial parenting practises, so Ricky had never thought to ask. It had simply been another curious part of his life.

Here in front of him was the unmistakeable shape of a snakes head. The bulbous pods waving side to side menacingly.

Drawing his belt knife, for he never went anywhere without it, he reached for a bulbous pod to take home to Zee.

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"Aargh!"

With wide eyes and clenched teeth, Ricky saw, through the pain, that the pod had contained a thorn, which was now embedded in the back of his hand. Placing his knife in its sheathe, he used his fingernails to attempt to dig the thorn out.

As his fingers closed on the thorn, it seemed to wiggle violently side to side, eluding his grasp.

Reluctantly, he drew his knife again, to take more extreme measures.

No sooner had the tip of the knife touched the thorn than the thorn dug deeper into the flesh again, sending waves of pain through his hand once more.

"If you aren't going to come out, you'll have to stay there, then." He growled, snipping a bulb off the vine, seeing it wither in his hand, and placing it in one of his belt pouches.

"Once Zee gets his hands on you, we'll see what's what!"

Looking venomously back at the source of the pain, he saw that the vine had nearly completely wilted, in a matter of moments!

"Magic" he murmurred under his breath, 'that figures.'

Focussing on the trails ahead of him, Ricky did his best to stay on task. He must get to Zee as soon as possible. For the moment, he needed something to help with the wound. Looking about briefly, he headed towards a patch of Aum he had seen recently.

Once he'd snapped the stem off near the base, and applied the clear sap to the wound, he thanked the fuzzy old man for his herbalism teachings.

****

Zee, secretly First Wizard of the Midlands, sat on his boulder, wearing only a loincloth. He would be naked, but Ricky's mother was a stickler for propriety. He was a stubborn old man, though, which was why she had given up eventually.

He was a firm believer in being completely in touch with the world around him.

What better way to feel the world around you than with as little as possible between your skin and the air around you?

****

Ricky headed north, towards Hartland, the town Zee stayed at, and close to his father's house. Trunt lake was up ahead, after which it was only a few more kilometres to town. He certainly had enough in him to get to Zee. If he didn't ... well ... best not think about that.

"I'm coming Zee. I don't know what else to do."

A sound of heavy beating wings assailed him as he walked.

Stopping, he strained for any hint as to which direction it came from.

The trees around him were tall, their evergreen canopy showing precious little sky.

Up to his left!

The heavy sound was right there!

Struggling to pierce the thick tree growth with his gaze, he saw only a glimpse of a deep red moving at high speed.

Sprinting despite the pain in his hand, he crested the rise in front of him, and saw through a gap in the trees above him.

Despite his quick actions, he saw the figure in the sky was already far away, nearly lost on the horizon. It appeared to be flapping, but was too far to make out a distinct outline. He could hear the animals and birds nearby still fleeing in terror from the strange event.

As the concerning figure disappeared from view, Ricky looked down onto Trunt Lake. From this height, he could see all the way across it, about half a kilometre distant. The sunshine shone througn the surface of the water and revealed the rocky bottom, with its deeper sections and weed beds.

In the distance, he saw movement, where Hawker Trail wound in and out of sight along the lake shore. He smiled, hoping to see one of his fellow trail wardens, or their leader Chase, doing something unusual this far out, near the barrier. The Ven forest was a low traffic area for the people of the westlands.

A white dress? Who would be wearing such a thing in this forest?

The clients who hired him to take them between locations were sometimes impractical, but a white dress was a poor choice for a number of reasons.

As if that wasn't enough fo a shock, another movement from further back on the lakeshore revealed four men moving stealthily from tree to tree, and keeping their gaze locked on the path in front of them. While he watched, they too passed into the trees once more.

A conspicuous white dress and four men in silent pursuit? She might not even know they were on her trail!

He had to reach her first. It was probably her only chance!