Tamsin Swiftwing's Arc

Chapter 2 of 10

Tamsin stepped past the red ribbon into the shadow-filled forest. Her wings tucked close against her back as branches crowded in from all sides. She needed to learn how to navigate this darkness before she could reach the ruins. The older pixie had warned her that the path twisted and turned, easy to lose in the gloom. Tamsin pulled a piece of chalk from her pouch and marked an X on the nearest tree trunk. She would leave marks as she went, a trail to follow back if she got lost. The forest floor crunched under her feet as she moved forward, marking trees every few steps. After an hour of marking trees, Tamsin turned back. She had learned the first lesson: how to make a trail. Now she needed maps and books about the forgotten ruins. The village archives held tablets about the mirth spell, but nothing about where the ruins actually were. She flew back to the meadow, following her chalk marks until sunlight broke through the trees. The eldest pixie lived near the gathering pool in a house covered with flowers and vines. Tamsin landed at the door and knocked. The silver-winged pixie opened it and smiled. Tamsin asked about books and old maps. The eldest pixie nodded and pointed to a small birdhouse hanging from her porch. Bright blooms decorated its sides, and vine patterns wrapped around the entrance. "Take it," she said. "Inside are rolled maps from before the ribbon was hung. They show the old paths." Tamsin lifted the birdhouse carefully. The maps inside rustled as she tucked it under her arm. She had her trail-making skills and now she had directions. The ruins were one step closer. Back at the Pixie Treehouse, Tamsin unrolled the old maps across her floor. The paper cracked and split at the edges. She needed somewhere to store them properly. She flew to the market square and found a wall rack made of metal hooks and woven baskets. Perfect for keeping maps flat and safe. She carried it back and mounted it near her door. Each map went into its own basket, sorted by distance from the red ribbon. The closest ruins sat three days north. The farthest stretched two weeks west. She pulled out the nearest map and studied the hand-drawn paths. The ruins meant danger, and danger meant injuries. Tamsin needed a place to make healing salves when she returned from each trip. She built a workbench outside the treehouse using flat stones and sturdy oak legs. A silver vice held jars steady while she worked. A stone mortar and pestle sat ready to grind herbs into paste. She tested it by crushing dried lavender, watching the purple dust collect at the bottom. The smell cleared her head. She had her maps organized. She had a station for recovery. Tomorrow she would start the real journey into the dark forest.