“Oh, that.”

Another day, another wasp nest avoided and certified Raun advice. One more welcome than the other, obviously. Raun draws another group of scribbles into the ground.

“Now that word means ‘candle’, something I use often and that one stands for bucket, something I need to order,” Raun shuffles a little and gestures me to drag a nearby stool nearer, which he settles heavily into.

“This word means chair and that one means axe, the tool you keep throwing willy-nilly after collecting firewood for me.”

“Raun”

“Yes, that one’s my name good job now grab a stick and copy like we did yesterday.”

“Raun…”

“Beastie you’ve already said that and there’s only so much daylight at the end of summer, now get a move on.”

“Raun I’ve got questions. About Ritugam.” I insisted to the scruffy man avoiding my eyes for a change. He sighed, rubbing his left eyebrow, then nodded.

“Right, that…ceremony. Some stupid git started it eons ago and that divided the good people even further, then the stronger ate the weaker and made crowns from their ribs. The actual ceremony is simple, some moron pours water over hands and that water changes based on what sort of magic rests in your arteries- I got fire and that led to boiling water spilling on the ground in front of me” Raun made a short and mean-sounding laugh “The brother at the time jumped more than a rabbit that day, stupid git.”

“What happened next? Did someone try to adopt you?” I tilted my head at the man who was drawing a humorous depiction of a man in robes with buck teeth and long ears. Raun shook his head.

“Sybil, my family may not be nobility or have a last name, but we’re decently established in this vale. Much like your buddy Loup’s departed father, we have a foothold that nobles can’t unwedge easily.”

“So nothing will happen? I won’t get adopted?” I stumbled over the last word, having to pause at the end to not add an ‘o’ to the last five letters. Adopoted isn’t a word, no matter how much fun it is to say. Raun scratched the side of his cheek, then shrugged.

“I dunno, I’d like to say that all goes well and you’re able to afford unicorn steak but it’d be best to have” A flourish of the hands, “Some sort of plan, should things not go all well.” I tilt my head; is Raun telling me to run away? Is adopting that bad? I open my mouth to ask but on Raun rambled about local rivers running and how he’s worried about how the flooding has been messing with his bees. Actual bees, not mislabelled wasps.

Apparently, the extra water occasionally floods the flower fields his bees prefer, then mosquitos take up residence in the puddles left in the field divots from where the rotting flowers, then the frogs follow after the mosquitos and how all that means that Raun gets a smaller wield of beeswax next spring. 

“If a box falls near you, best look a few miles back to see the hand pushing a card.” He said enigmatically, then requested that I help him spread some hay over a field with him in return for another dinner portion and a spare knapsack for my ‘knickknacks’. I spent the next few hours in a slightly hunched position throwing dried grass over an almost-bog before a warm loaf of honey bread was pressed into my hands alongside a garishly orange bag.

I rubbed the bag in some dust before tucking it into my little cave.

“>Escape plan huh…<” I mused out loud on the long path back. It’s not like extra preparation would hurt if adoption was really that scary.

HelloHound

A fun and normal afternoon discussion to have with a five year old