The Adventures of Thistle & Honey 7
Making plans & Seeking answers
“What is it that has you so afraid of the Forest of Shadows?” Honey asks from her perch on a pillow in front of the fire.
After Thistle had rested a while longer, she made dinner, and now the three of them are lounging in the quiet hush before bed.
“Well, for starters,” Thistle says, cradling a warm mug of chamomile tea, “there’s the deadly beasts that await inside to devour your soul.” She takes a sip, then nods toward Tuffin, who is snoring softly beside Honey’s pillow. “Case in point.”
Honey’s wings twitch. “What stories are told of what lies in the dark depths of the forest? What has you so scared? I remember some creatures, like our furry friend here, but sometimes becoming physical can mix things up in my memory.”
“That has to be disconcerting.” Thistle says, her brow furrowing slightly. “How many times have you done this guide thing?”
“A few.” Is all Honey offers in response. “Now, about that forest?” She adds as she adjusts her wings.
Thistle rolls her eyes her tiny friend and answers, “They say those who enter never return. Only their screams emerge… until they stop.”
Honey tilts her head. “How perfectly creepy campfire of them. So, no one has ever come back to tell the tale from personal experience?”
“Well,” Thistle concedes, “there is one story. About a witch who stepped out of the forest nearly three hundred years ago. They say she could no longer see, and the language she spoke was one no one understood.”
“And what happened to her? Could she still be alive? She would probably be our best shot at getting insight into the forest.”
Thistle considers this, eyes flickering toward the wood burning in the hearth. “It’s possible. Witches can live incredibly long lives. I could ask Berty, the gnome who sold me this cottage, he has a strange knack for knowing things. But even if she is still alive, if we can’t understand her, how helpful could she really be?”
“Speaking isn’t the only way to communicate, Thistle.” Honey’s tone is gentle but sure. “And besides, it’s possible I could understand her. I understand Tuffin after all? Being what I am comes with certain… advantages.”
Thistle continues to stare at the fire, pondering Honey’s suggestion. “You still haven’t actually explained exactly what you are.” She says without looking away from the flames.
Honey, of course doesn’t respond , and Thistle continues her pondering. She really doesn’t want to go into the Forest of Shadows. But as her eyes drift to the sleeping Glimmer, she remembers her promise; and knows that simply dropping him off at the forest’s edge won’t be enough.
Finally, she sighs,
“I would definitely feel better if we had some idea of what to expect. I’ll visit Berty in the morning and see if he has any information that might help us locate the witch, if she’s still alive.” She swallows the last sip of her tea and adds, “Besides, after dealing with Torak, it’ll be a balm to see his friendly face.”
Tuffin chuffs in his sleep, rolling onto his back, wings and limbs spread out without a care in the realm. Thistle feels a tug in her heart at his cuteness.
“You both will come with me. I’m not leaving you alone together.”
“Please,” Honey scoffs, “he may be annoying, but I have no interest in ending my time here because of it. He is safe from my stinger. For now.”
She stands and ruffles her wings before flying over to the kitchen sink. Catching a droplet of water hanging from the faucet, she uses it to wash her face and front legs.
“Now,” she says, turning back to Thistle, “we best be off to bed. I have a feeling tomorrow will be… interesting, if nothing else.”
The three of them arrive at the retirement community where Berty lives the next day, the early morning dew still clinging to the grass. Honey is safely tucked away in Thistle’s hair, and Tuffin skitters quietly in her shadow where he is invisible to the naked eye.
As they step through the main doors and into the lobby, Honey gives a soft buzz.
“This place smells of earth and wisdom,” she murmurs, “with just a hint of decay.”
Thistle stifles a chuckle as they make their way down the winding halls toward Berty’s room.
The moment they cross the threshold, his voice rings out, as if he’s been expecting her all morning.
“Dearest Thistle! It’s so wonderful to see you. To what do I owe the honor of your presence this morning?” The elderly gnome sits comfortably in a high-backed chair, its faded floral upholstery echoing the gentle magic of years well-lived. His thick white beard and bright red hat in contrast to the soft florals.
“You flatter me, Berty,” Thistle replies with a smile as she settles into the matching chair beside him. “Can’t a fairy visit her favorite gnome just because she missed him?”
“Ah, indeed she can. Alas, she hasn’t… and I suspect today isn’t the day she starts,” he chuckles, eyes twinkling.
Thistle winces a little at that, a sigh slipping from her lips. “I’m sorry Berty. I get so wrapped up in my own crap, and the box in my mind labeled ‘Friends’ gets packed up and shoved on a shelf.” She offers a sheepish grin. “I promise to make a point to visit you every week from now on.”
Berty let’s out a deep chuckle, “I’d love to see you every week, my dear, but don’t let guilt drive you. I’m quite content in my solitude.” He pats her hand kindly, his wrinkled face smiling. “It’s not a burden to have so much time to myself. I’m happy to rest in that little box until you’re ready to take it down again.”
He claps his hands together with sudden cheer.
“Now! Let’s talk about what you’re wanting, dear. No need to get bogged down in analysis.”
Thistle rolls her eyes, smiling as Berty shifts in his chair, attempting to sit a little taller.
“Alright, I guess we should just get to it then.” She shakes her head, then takes a deep breath, sitting a bit taller herself.
“I need to find the Witch that walked out of the woods, and I have a feeling you might be able to provide me with a starting point.”
Berty doesn’t look the least bit surprised. Instead, a knowing gleam lights his eyes, and a slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face.
“It’s about damn time.”
I love the description of a retirement community smelling like earth and wisdom (I'll skip the decay haha). My grandpa has recently moved into a home and this is such a beautiful way to think about the lives that have lived and learned and are now all collected together.
It’s about damn time!!! Ahhh I need the next chapter asap