Fennel Thistledown's Arc

Chapter 4 of 21

The next morning Fennel woke to fire in her knees. She sat on the edge of her bed and could not stand. Her stores were low again, and both girls waited outside for herbs she could not fetch. The wild patch lay across the meadow, past the stream. On a good day the walk hurt. Today it was impossible. She needed those herbs, and she could not reach them. Lily appeared in the doorway. She took one look at Fennel's face. "You're not walking anywhere," she said. Her voice was flat, but she was already tying back her sleeves. Fennel felt the old worry stir. A student this sure of herself might decide she no longer needed a teacher. But right now she needed the girl's legs more than she feared her pride. "The patch has a lavender you don't know," Fennel said. "Orange and blue on the same stem. Cut only the blue blossoms. Leave the roots." Lily nodded once and turned to go. "Wait. You can't carry a full basket that far alone." Lily grinned. "I won't be alone." She whistled low. Outside, water splashed on stone. Fennel dragged herself to the window. A creature stood in the garden, tall as a horse, its mane and tail flowing like a stream poured upward. Its whole body rippled clear and blue. A single horn caught the morning light. Fennel had heard of such beasts near cold springs. She had never seen one come to a whistle. "He drinks at the stream by the patch," Lily said. "I've been feeding him windfall apples for weeks. He'll carry the basket." She strapped the empty basket to the creature's back, where the water rippled and did not soak the wicker. The traveling girl crept close, eyes wide, and did not dare touch it. They left across the meadow. Fennel sat by the window and could do nothing but wait. Her hands itched to work. For an hour she watched the tree line and chewed her lip. They came back near noon. The water beast walked slow and careful, the basket heavy on its back. Lily lifted the lid. Inside lay stems of the strange lavender, orange and blue crowded together, and she had cut only the blue heads, clean at the neck, roots left whole. She had followed Fennel's word exactly. Fennel ran the blossoms through her fingers and smiled. The stores were full. The girls could work for a week. But she saw the truth plain now. Her knees had failed, and the work had gone on without her. Lily had led. Lily had chosen the beast, the path, the cut. The lesson was no longer Fennel's to give alone. "You did well," Fennel said. Lily heard the words and stood a little taller. Fennel watched her chin lift and knew the danger had grown. The girl had just learned she could do it all without her.