For https://steemit.com/freewrite/@mariannewest/day-404-5-minute-freewrite-wednesday-prompt-medicine

Chapter 15

Jan and Lavender sat in a tree. The tree had become the perfect place to sit. Branches gently moved aside to give them a view of the horizon. They watched the sun rise.

"We've found creatures and made them our allies. We've discovered treasure that we didn't need. We've even dabbled with magics. Do you feel satisfied, Lavender?" asked Jan, holding her shepherd in her arms. One cheek resting in Lavender's hair, the other brushed by a gently swaying leaf.

Lavender breathed in the last air of the night, and breathed out the first air of the day. The dew began to rise into mist. The light scent of deciduous leaves filled her nostrils. The heavy scent of soil entered past her tongue. She could taste the world. "I feel satisfied in this moment to watch the sun rise and snuggle in your arms, Jan." She bent her head back to accept the kiss meant for her head on her lips instead. "If you're asking if I want to return to Kittrosk and herd flocks of sheep, watching them slowly munch grass, and eating my mother's flank steaks at Chanbun's and be content, the answer is still no. You are an arbiter now. My place is with you. My heart is with you. And even- " Lavender held her fingers over Jan's lip. She could feel Jan breathing in to speak, to protest, and so without looking, Lavender knew it was time to halt her tongue with a gentle touch. "-even, my love, my heart, my tree, even if you weren't an arbiter, I would want to continue discovering our world."

Jan held her tight. She held her tighter than she even knew. Jan's mind turned over, from contentment to worry in an instant. Lavender continued, "If you gave up this place and these roots, we could take our bodies where your mind has been. If we left this part of the forest, we could follow the roots to the north or to the south, east west... We could touch different skies."

Jan held her breath. She hadn't known how much wanderlust she'd been holding until it came from her mouth. A tension or, not a tension, a strength, a flow that came from the tips of her toes and coursed through her feet and ankles, shins and knees, thighs and back and core, shoulders arms hands fingers, fingertips - flowing from her fingertips as she touched her own face, surprised as it flowed through her neck, up her throat, out her mouth, moved by her tongue, given voice by her lungs. Given emphasis by her heart, and thought by her mind.

"I want to go further than we've gone. I want to find another place and another place. All possible places. This world is big."

Lavender, tears being pushed from below by this want she hadn't voiced, spilled from lids, eyes held steady, unblinking. She found Jan's eyes and held them, warm and soft eyes holding warm and hard eyes. Hands pressing hands.

The sun rose.

---

Coriander and Chanbun gave each other meals every evening. Chanbun's were elaborate victuals, provenance from the many patrons who stayed in her busy tavern. She thought there had once been a time when she did not have many overnight guests, but those days were hard to remember. She had a bard on staff, a Swellven who was merely adequate, but who more importantly could be trusted to stay and play every night, and who told stories that hadn't been told before because he wrote them just for her and her patrons. Each patron brought a delicacy from his or her home, and, in addition to paying rent, gave it to the house to be appreciated by all. This was expected, and each patron seemed proud to provide.
Coriander's dinners were hearty, less fanciful affairs. She had meat of one kind or another, and each meat was given it's proper berth. There was room for each meat to shine. Though Swellven considered himself a fine man, he preferred Coriander's dinners. He did not have to pretend that he knew everything about everything, and he was content. There was something about Coriander that made him feel content. She also had a cat who would sit in his lap, and who Coriander pretended not to see eating the meats from his plate.

Parsley came with her little boy and his father most nights. She was quiet and had a few clever puns prepared every evening for them all to enjoy. She enjoyed watching her little one watch the sheep every day, and the little boy's father enjoyed watching the sheep watch the boy and her. It was a family of watching. Except on the nights when Coriander, who was mother to Parsley and grandmother to the little boy and mother-in-law to the father of the little boy, made supper. On those nights, they were not a family of watching, they were a family of eating.

"When does aunty Jan and aunty Lavender come back?" asked the little boy, who had no actual memory of his aunties who were adventurers, but who had been told about them so often, he believed he did. He tore this night's repast with most of the teeth an adult has, but he was missing two very important ones, and so after a first attempt, he picked up the entire steak, put it to the side of his mouth, and tore with his molars.

"None of us knows, dear heart," answered Coriander, who had begun to love the phrase "dear heart", ever since it had been pointed out to her in a silly song by Swellven that it was also a fun part of a hart to eat. The deer heart. Or the hart heart. She loved puns, and was very glad that Parsley was inclined to give them to Swellven who made these delightful silly ditties.

"Actually," Chanbun rose from the table, pushing back her heavy three-legged wooden stool, and raising a mug of bitter mead, "I do."

Chanbun paused for dramatic effect. She paused for a very long time, long enough that, after the expectant silence had hinted that something else was called for, Swellven got out of his own seat, walked to the fireplace where his lute sat warming itself, spent more than an instant though less than a moment tuning it, and strummed a dramatic cord.

"I have met a dwarven man who saw them both in the forest. He said that they had spoken with him, offering him berries. 'What did they say to him?' you ask." Chanbun looked expectantly at her expectant crowd who behaved expectedly and echoed, "What did they say to him?" as Chanbun had hoped they would.

"I'll tell you, but you have to keep it under your hat. The whole town isn't to know what I tell you tonight. That means you, too, deer lungs." Chanbun winked at the little boy who was paying attention only to the sense of the words, but not their meaning as he took another bite of venison.

"I'll tell you." she paused again, but not for as long this time. "Now."

"Jan and Lavender are speaking with all the small animals and mobile plants on the road. The rodents, and the road ents. They're convincing many of them to come with them as they wander in this direction. I don't know why for sure, but I do think that we should pack a picnic lunch and tomorrow go out and see if we can find them." Chanbun had just come up with this idea in that moment, and was pretty sure it was a better idea than she'd been about to give herself credit for. She'd planned to suggest that they have a big feast awaiting them, but a picnic and just a quiet family affair seemed even nicer now that she was thinking about it.

Coriander's eyes widened, "they're collecting and army of beasts? How do you know they haven't... you know... again?"

Parsley didn't know, but she didn't say anything about not knowing, because, though it looked like her husband didn't know and her son didn't know, Swellven and Coriander did know, so she wasn't about to let it be known that she wasn't in the know. Hopefully she'd figure it out. It couldn't be too hard to figure out if Swellven, of all people, knew already.

Chanbun coughed twice, loudly enough that the cat leaped off Swellven's shoulder, where it had decided he'd be most likely to be able to feed it, even if he was holding a noisemaker in his hand and standing away from the table.

"An army of beasts, really, Coriander? Your daughter can talk to squirrels and such now, and you are taking such a negative view of things? They're making a party of the forest! We enjoy parties! Parties are medicine for an aching world... or to alleviate boredom. They're medicine." Chanbun hid her wrinkles behind broad smiles, and that was where they were now.

"Chanbun, I think you're being mildly naive. I love my daughter. I think she's wonderful, but there was a time when things were-" Swellven stopped Coriander from continuing by announcing, "there wasn't a time! It was out of time! That's not how time works," but the gathered women shot him all the glares in the world and his lips hit each other with enough popping force that it sounded like the fireplace had suffer an explosive gas accident. It hadn't. Swellven just found his place.

Coriander continued almost as if Swellven had left an empty space in the room. "There was a nowhen when we were afraid of Jan. And there was a nowhen when I knew a Janice who made Jan the Jan we know. Our world is topsy-turvy sometimes. I'd be naive to believe that we cannot expect the unexpected."

"Well, then," Chanbun's smile broadened painfully, "a picnic can be advance reconnaissance. We'll find out what our deer stomachs are up to, and we'll help them find their ways. You can't be afraid of your child. In fact, you can't be afraid of anything. We're all just here and now right here and right now, and I'm still hungry."

Chanbun, Coriander, Parsley, Swellven, and Parsley's husband continued their dinner. Parsley's son had never stopped his dinner. Only the cat was not eating. Because the cat wasn't in the room any more. In fact, the cat wasn't in the butcher's house any more. The cat was, in fact, heading out of town, in the direction of the forest. Which, to be fair, was in all directions.