Luna Lovegood's Arc

Chapter 6 of 19

Morning came gray through the canvas walls. The young Snorkack slept on the blanket, its striped flank rising slow. Luna's fingers throbbed. She had played the harp half the night to keep it calm, and still the herd waited somewhere in the trees. The music had bought the dark. It would not buy the day. The moment she stopped, the little one would cry, and its family would come for the tent. She knelt beside the sleeping creature and thought hard. She could not play forever. She could not silence a frightened animal without hurting it. But she remembered her father's journals, the neat lines of ink he had written for thirty years. Snorkacks ate gurdyroot. A fed creature was a calm creature. And a calm creature did not call for help. Luna dug the sugared gurdyroot from her pack. She had saved a handful of it. She broke off a piece and held it near the young one's nose. Its eyes opened. It sniffed, then took the food from her palm. It chewed. Its ears settled flat and easy. It did not cry. But one meal would not last. The herd would return by nightfall, and she had almost nothing left to give. Luna needed more gurdyroot, and she needed it fast. She could not leave the tent to dig for it. If she left, the creature would wake alone and call, and the herd would tear through the canvas. So she made a plan. She lifted her wand, the slender wood warm in her sore hand. She had learned to sense where a Snorkack had walked, the faint heat of fresh tracks. Now she turned that same magic outward, low to the ground, feeling for the pale roots that grew near water. The wand tip glowed green. It pulled her gaze toward the far corner of the tent, where a purple-black rose grew wild against the canvas. Gurdyroot liked the same damp soil as that flower. Luna could not reach it without leaving the Snorkack. So she chose the harder thing. She scooped the drowsy creature into her arms, wrapped it loose in the blanket, and carried it with her. It stayed quiet, still chewing the last of the sweet root. She dug at the base of the dark rose with her free hand. Roots came up thick and white. Enough for a day. Maybe two. By dusk she had a full basket and a sleeping creature that had not cried once. The herd rumbled at the tree line, then went still. They had heard nothing to call them in. Luna sat back against the canvas, exhausted. She had solved it. Food kept the young one quiet, and quiet kept the herd away. But her hands shook as she counted the roots. The wild gurdyroot near the tent was nearly gone. To keep the creature calm, she would have to go back into the forest for more. And the herd was waiting there.