Pondweed and Snow

Tyr and Reichenbach of Blackwood
Winter, Year 762 of the New Age
Blackwood, Near Widow’s Hollow

Tyr
Blinking his eyes open, he could just make out the blurred remains of last night’s fire, blackened, steel pot nestled in the charcoaled wood. Shaking his head against the piercing morning cold, he turned to his side; Reichenbach and Zecho were still asleep, leaning on each other for support. Pushing up off of the frozen ground, Tyr walked to where his fire had been last night, pulling the pot out of the fire by the chord, he proceeded to sift through the charcoal to make sure that there were no residual embers, not that it mattered too much in winter. Allowing the two their proper rest, Tyr began to roll up his kit-- grinding stone, cup, waterskin, and remaining herbs. After a small while, Reichenbach began to move, groaning a little. “Good morning,” Tyr said softly, waiting on a response.

Reichenbach
Reichenbach came back to the waking world with a groan and a splitting headache. He blinked his brown eyes as the scenery in front of him slowly came back into focus, trees covered in snow, along with the remainder of his ailments. His shoulder throbbed, every beat of his heart felt in the tight flesh, and the voice of his unlikely healer greeted him shortly after he recollected his thoughts from from the night prior.

“What's going on?” he groaned, lifting his head slightly to look around more. His gaze settled on Tyr and he scowled, upset that he was still there and under his care but perhaps not as angry as he had been last night.

Tyr
Watching his patient carefully as he woke, Tyr noted the sore, but deliberate movement. “Well, it’s currently morning, and surprisingly enough, it’s not snowing yet. I need to collect Ebony Pondweed for a more potent poultice to draw out the remainder of the infection, as I didn’t expect I would need any this winter, and we need to get you more water; you’ll be desperately dehydrated by now,” as he responded, he brought the waterskin with its remaining contents to Reichenbach, and watched him swallow it down greedily. “Besides, I’m sure you’d like to be able to go home tonight and enjoy the shelter.” He knelt to inspect the dried Bloodnettle poultice in his charge’s wounds; they would hold sufficiently until they could reach a source of ebony pondweed. “Can you muster the strength today to make a small journey?” Tyr asked the hulking stag with the small hart by his side who was by this point shaking himself awake.

Reichenbach
Gathering his legs up under him and managing the strength to push himself up, Reichenbach listened to Tyr talk about what he needed and what they had to do. Apparently he would be required to accompany him on his journey to finish his medical practices. Not what he expected, but since he had no clue how to tend to himself he didn't have much of a choice.

Zecho stood on shaking legs, yawning, and Reichenbach only noticed him for a second before he turned back to Tyr. He did feel thirsty, terribly so, and pondweed sounded like it would include water to drink as well. He supposed the minor deter would fair well for him in the long run and figured may as well. Again, not so much choice as it was favorable outcome and need. He nodded his head to Tyr to show his agreement with the plan.

“How far is it?”

Tyr
Thinking about the improvised map in his head, he responded, “From here to the pond we need to reach, it’s slightly less than half a daylight’s walk Before you ask, yes, I have factored in reduced travel speeds along the way due to illness. We’ll be following a small creek for a good portion of the trip, which will provide you with water for when you get thirsty. I’d advise you to keep the pelt on, as your temperature is still somewhat vulnerable, although you have made some notable progress.” Pacing a small circle around the hulk of Reichenbach’s form, he took stock of the stag’s wounds--healing, but still agitated-- and his ability to stand. “If we start now, we can be back to Widow’s Hollow before the sun sets tonight, and we won’t have to take shelter out in the lesser known parts of the forest.” Picking up his steel pot between his teeth, he turned to the two, “So, let’s get moving.”

Reichenbach
Following Tyr's lead, Reichenbach stepped carefully through the forest, head drooping a bit as his illness still controlled most of him. The fact that there would be water along the way would make this trip much easier but he had to get there first and even then he was still a bit wobbly, meaning travel, no matter how slow, would be a task to test his stamina.

Zecho plodded along beside him, curiously watching his mentor to be sure he was alright and didn't need his help. He thought it was awful nice of Tyr to come back and help Reichenbach, even though he did call the bigger stag some names. He was sure that by the end of this Reichenbach would be right as rain and back to butting heads with everyone he thought was worth fighting.

“What are we getting from the pond?” the colt decided to ask, the air a bit dead.

Tyr
Walking out in front of the colt and his sickly protector, Tyr was enjoying the silence. Despite the footfall, the crunch of crystallized snow, and the the sound of his own breathing, the clear crisp space of Blackwood in winter holding bright white against the stark black tree trunks. Going back into his mind, he turned past a small glade while trying to-- silently-- make sure that his patient and Zecho were still following.

Zecho asked a question about the nature of their trip, and Tyr almost stopped. The breaking of the silence pierced into his ears and caused him to flick his ears down against his neck. “We’re going to get Ebony Pondweed, due to it’s filter-like structure, it’s a little more effective at drawing infection out of a wound. Today, I’m going to use it for a more potent poultice on Reichenbach’s wounds, and also to collect some, since I don’t often go on runs out to this location. This silenced the trio again as they kept moving on towards their destination.

“Alright! There’s our creek up ahead. You’ll be able to get a drink in, and we can stay here for a while to rest. Reichenbach, I’ll suggest that you don’t stand in the water, as it will dangerously lower your body temperature, and we don’t need you getting any more sick,” Tyr commanded, as he stalked his way towards the sounds of the running water.

Reichenbach
Coming up on the river, Reichenbach had to remind himself that even though he was burning up, the travel and heavy pelt making him sweat,  the river would do him no good this time of year. Instead he carefully made his way over to the water source, breaking the ice that crusted the banks and dipped his muzzle to drink.

It was cold. So cold. The stag could feel the water sliding down his throat with an icy slash, splashing into his belly and settling there. It made him shiver, but he was so thirsty he couldn't do anything but drink more, his body hungering to satiate at least one thing he needed while it was available.

Little did the Hart know that his guzzling would not fair him well later. Cold water in an overheated body would shock his system, causing greater harm, but he was blind to this knowledge, drinking until he could drink no more and then settling to rest in a cleared space that Zecho had prepared for him whilst he had sipped from the river. He gave a slight grunt of thanks and the colt snuggled up next to him again while Tyr puttered about, waiting for the signal that it would be time to continue.

Tyr
Breaking the small, fringing ice that laced the river, he dipped his muzzle into the frigid, alpine water. Once his throat no longer felt rough and dry, he filled his water skin and corked it back up. Lifting his heavy head from the water, he glanced both up and down the river, plotting the best mode of attack at the pond they had to reach. If we continue to walk up along the river, with the flow running opposite to our direction, we should be able to follow it back to here, even if it snows and we lose our previous tracks...I just hope that the strain isn’t too much for him, with this last thought, Tyr looked over his shoulder at the hairy stag that was drinking heavily from the river. Digging in the snow, Tyr uncovered a small patch of straggling grass, pulling it up in his teeth. So little food for such a herd… Walking to the trunk of a nearby pine tree, Tyr began to slash at it with his horns and hooves, scratching the wood and tearing at the bark. Zecho looked up at him inquisitively from the side of his protector, and Tyr responded saying, “I’m marking our path, for when we return.” Then, watching the two resting together, he began to pace around, keeping watch and waiting for Reichenbach to muster his strength for the rest of the journey.

Reichenbach
Zecho tilted his head, watching Tyr for a bit longer, then dropping his interest when the older stag started to pace.

Reichenbach sat there for a while until he felt he was taking too long to recover. With that, he stood, grunting from the exertion, and dropped his head again once he was upright. Ugh, his headache was back again, maybe worse than before. And his stomach… It felt tight. Probably just from the walk and the illness. He’d feel okay once he started moving.

He looked to Tyr to say he was ready, Zecho shaking the snow from his pelt.

Tyr
“Alright, then, if we’re ready we’ll want to walk along the river until it starts to turn towards the mountains, understood?” Tyr then started the second leg of their journey. It had been a long time for him since he had wandered out in this direction of the woods.  Maybe this spring I’ll go out to search for bloodnettle again, it is always worth it to have some… The thoughts in Tyr’s head went on in this manner, always on herbs, never on his actual vocation of being a witch. After this silent travelling had gone on for another while, Tyr turned his head back ever so slightly to ask Zecho what his magical strain was. Tyr had grown curious as to why the rugged and calloused stag would take a small hart into his care. We’re nearly there, I think

Reichenbach
Zecho smiled. “My mom was a hex and curse master, but my dad was an illusionist and possession artist. I can do hexes and curses, because she taught me, but I don't know if I want to do anything else.” He looked at his mentor who was still dragging his feet. “Reichenbach said he can do Possession magic too, so maybe I'll do that!”

Listening, Reichenbach snorted quietly as his charge spoke. “He needs to find a shaman to practice his magic,” he admitted, having no knowledge of cursing himself. “But he's working on becoming stronger. He can hold his own against some others I suppose.”

He knew his charge was still pretty weak but was easily influenced by his words and had a passion about him that the older stag found favorable. He was about so extremely dedicated to seeing him achieve his aspirations and often showered him in compliments. The little colt was born to follow and if he wanted to follow him then who was he to deny him?

Tyr
“Hexes and Curses you say,” Tyr responded in amusement, “I’ve been meaning to learn the art myself. I’ve…” Choking a little, Tyr swallowed the lump that was rising in his throat, “I’ve spent far more time honing the art of Neceomancy, but I appreciate those who are skilled with a spell.” Tyr smiled, but a little more sadly. He thought of his parents buried in his childhood home. “It’s good to hear that you are working your hardest to become strong, Zecho.”

Stopping for a few minutes at a time, the incline of their journey began to become more steep and the sun was nearly ready to begin its descent from the arch of the sky. Seeing a bush of Winterberries, Tyr halted to procession, pulling a large mouthful from the bus and bringing them to Reichenbach. “Eat these,” he commanded, “they’ll increase your resistance to the present chill.”

Reichenbach
Having started to feel the chill cut through to his bones, Reichenbach ate what Tyr provided with little hesitance. He really didn’t want to be a walking icicle after all, so there was no point in fighting the herbalist.

Berries consumed, Reichenbach started to trudge onward with the rest, the cramps in his stomach on his mind as they went. Surely he was dehydrated if his stomach was acting up. He remembered his mother faintly warning him of heat stroke when it got too hot out and one didn't drink enough water. Surely it was the same case here, except he was cold instead of hot. And sick.

“Are we near the pond?” he asked, teeth chattering.

Tyr
“We’re nearly there, and if you need to stay here, I would suggest that you do so, I trust Zecho to look after you if you need the rest, but our trip is taking a little bit longer than I had originally estimated,” Tyr stated, looking to the sky. “I’m going to keep moving up the hill, but if you can’t make it, you must tell me now. Eyeing the stag, Tyr could see the noticeable discomfort on Reichenbach’s face. His mouth was pulled tightly down at the corners in a grimace, and he shivered despite the pelts and exertion of the trip. Walking quickly to his side, he whispered into his ear, “Are you sure you’re all right? It’s my job to make sure you are made well, and I need honesty.”


Reichenbach
Looking up at the formidable expanse they still had yet to walk, Reichenbach felt a sense of hesitation. Though his pride told him he should make it, that he could because he was strong, his his body told him otherwise. His stomach was cramping tightly and it hurt beyond what he thought it should. Couple that with how cold he was and, honestly, Reichenbach didn't think he could simply brush it off this time.

“My stomach is cramping,” he replied honestly when Tyr asked if he was alright, knees buckling as the urge to lay down came upon him. “It hurts, a lot.”

Shame made his ears hot, but he couldnt deny his symptoms. Something else was wrong and he didn't know how to fix it.

Tyr
Pulling his head back from the stag’s side slowly, he acknowledged that this was a hard thing for Reichenbach to admit to; he had to be strong, not only for his ward, but also for the herd. He gave Reichenbach a sympathetic look, trying to tell him without words that he knew this stag’s struggle. Thinking for a long while, he thought back to a strange case that his mentor had him help with many winters ago. THe patient had been a fawn then, but Tyr figured that the same treatment might apply at this time. “Reichenbach, I need you to lay down, but first, I need Zecho to clear the snow where you’re going to lay,” as he gave the instruction, he saw the hart nod and begin to brush the snow off of the path that they had been walking. Drawing nearer to Reichenbach, he told him in a low voice, “Listen, you will be fine if you do as I tell you. When Zecho has finished with clearing a place for you to lay down, I need you to position yourself so that your feet are up hill of you,” seeing that the place had now been cleared, Tyr began to instruct Zecho to lay next to Reichenbach, keeping him warm while making sure that the pelts covered the large stag well enough. Pushing a large rock where Reichenbach’s feet were, he ordered that his patient keep his feet elevated, and to not take any fluids, even if he felt thirst. “Alright,” Tyr said, panting slightly, I’m going to keep going, Zecho, please keep him warm until his cramps subside.” And with those parting words, the dark revoker began to dash up and over the hill.

Reichenbach
Laying down, Reichenbach shivered. He hoped Tyr was right in his methods. This was a very precarious position and he felt even sicker if but for a moment. Zecho had slung his head over him to help keep him warm, the small colt doing his best to assist as the snow fell on them, dusting their bodies in a fine coat of winter white.

Reichenbach shuddered and cramped for what felt like forever, eyelids growing heavy as the treatment eventually began to work. He felt warm, a combination of the berries, his pelt, and his charge, and his stomach slowly began to loosen itself up. He was tired, but he realized, brain foggy, that it was actually good sort of tired. He was feeling much better and as such he could afford to rest.

“Zecho,” he grumbled in his low voice, the colt perking and looking at him. His eyes were already closed, sleep luring him in with each passing second. “Wake me when he gets back.”

Tyr
Panting while he reached the top of the hill, he looked out to see the pond. Galloping over to it, he was made slightly angry by the layer of ice over the top of it. As the snow came down, he launched his front hoof through the thick ice, clearing a large hole. Not wanting to make the plunge himself, he reached out, searching for the not yet rotten corpse of anything that might be semi aquatic. Digging around in the energies of the dead, he came across a frozen swan. During migration or some other journey, Tyr reasoned that it must’ve either fallen ill, or been killed by something else, maybe a caster practicing their magic. Running to the side of the lake where the swan had fallen, he dug the snow off of the corpse a little, breathing life into it. Stiffly, the long neck of the bird broke the thin layer of frost that held its form captive. Doing the same with its wings, the swan was perfectly preserved by the harsh, Blackwood winter.

The swan dove beak first into the hole that Tyr had created in the ice at his command. He fed the image of ebony pondweed into his zombie’s consciousness, repeating the command to it. He saw the swan surface, beak full of ebony pondweed. Having the zombie place it into his leather pouch, he thanked it for its service. “You know, you’ve been quite useful, and I may be able to keep you around for a little longer anyway, so I’ll just have you come along.” Flapping its powerful wings, it landed on the small of his back, thin claws present in his hide.

Trotting down the hill again, he could see the dark forms of his patient and Zecho dusted in snow. His rolling jaunt caused the swan on his back to whirl its wings to stay on its master’s back. “How’s he doing?” Tyr panted, his breath rising in clouds from his mouth.

Reichenbach
Zecho lifted his head as Tyr came back. “I think he feels better.” The colt shook his mentor, the large stag grumbling as his eyes fluttered open, squinting slightly as they tried to focus again.

Reichenbach turned and looked at Tyr once he was awake, confused as to why there was a swan. He rolled to get up, standing after only a second of trying. He shook the snow from his pelt. “Did you get the pondweed?”

Tyr
“Good, and yes, I have it here with me, we’ll need to head a back before I can apply it, because I don’t want to wash you with cold river water with unknown contaminants in it. We’ll go and heat some water for you, and that’s when I’ll change your bindings, can you wait that long?” Tyr understood the need for sleep, the infection had taken a lot out of the giant stag, along with the shock from the temperature of the water they had drank earlier, but they needed to get home. Reichenbach still wasn’t back to full health, despite the fantastic recovery he was making. Moving just a little bit past his patient, he looked further down the hill, seeing the larger flakes of snow as they were beginning to come down. “If we are going, we need to go now. It does us no good to be out in the open in a storm.

Reichenbach
“Right. Come, Zecho. Keep up.”

Reichenbach followed Tyr back down the hill, keeping an eye on the snow. He felt ten times better, his power nap having done him good, but he still had a limp and he felt himself stiffening up the longer they went, the cold making his shoulder ache and the poultice crack and flake. When they got to the bottom of the hill and into the forest the snow had started to fall at a much faster rate and the wind had picked up. Whipping through the pines whither and ghostly whistle.

Reichenbach kept his head low, trying to avoid getting snow in his eyes. “This storm is getting worse. How fast can we get back?”

Tyr
Looking intently to the trees, Tyr recognized his markings on one of them and quickly diverged from along the river toward it. “We can get back pretty quickly, and the snow won’t be as bad in the trees, although we will need to watch for large amounts falling from branches, so keep your tines low,” Tyr called out in response to the brown stag’s question. Swan flying by his side, Tyr trotted through, seeing remnants of their path. Stopping and closing his eyes, Tyr tried to detect the feelings of a few necromancers working in a concentrated area. Following the calling feeling of young magic, Tyr weaved his way deeper into the woods. “Follow quickly behind me, we’ll reach Widow’s Hollow soon.”

Reichenbach
Minding his head, Reichenbach kept pace behind Tyr, following the lighter stag though the woods until they reached the familiar scenery of the hollow. Once there, they slowed their pace, the sun now setting behind the mountains. Reichenbach gave it a glance as it's last remaining rays of light tickled the purpling sky before making sure his charge was near, Zecho milling around behind them and watching the swan with fascination.

Reichenbach turned to Tyr, ready for this endeavour to be over with. “Do what you need to finish this project. I believe it's drawn out longer than either of us have wished it too.”

Tyr
Swan landing softly in the snow beside Tyr, he nodded, breathing heavily. “Indeed it has, but we need to get out of the snow drifts to finish up. I’ll bring you to my home, but I must insist that you do not go back there unless you are invited or need my help,” Tyr said this flicking his tail, and flicking his rack in the direction of his hollow. Walking now, to be sensitive to the needs of Reichenbach and his fatigue, it was a short walk back to the hollow made of bent tree boughs tied with fibrous strips of bush bark. Shelves made of rough branches held artifacts from the previous tenant, as well as a plethora of dried herbs with which Tyr made his potions and poultices. The ground was free of snow and covered with a variety of pelts, weasel, badger, wolf, seemingly everything with the exception of bear and fawn. Crude drawings painted on dried, cracked skins hung from the ceiling, charting what appeared to be star patterns. Tyr noticed the small hart looking in wonder at the paintings, “I didn’t make them, I can hardly understand them. They were an attempt of my herbs tutor to make a map of the sky or something. I just keep them around because they patch the roof better than any branches I have attached to the roof through my zombies.” Moving to the back of the basic hut, Tyr set up his tinder in the small pit that was surrounded by blackened stones. Striking the bracelet on the pot once more, he started the small flame, smoke being drawn out through a small hatched opening in the roof.

Reichenbach
Reichenbach stared up at the crude drawings, noting the parts that appeared to be stars. Why anyone would want to make a map of the sky was beyond him but they were quite interesting to look at when everything else was mundane.

He looked back at Zecho and Tyr when the stag struck his stone against the wood and started a spark. Fire danced brightly, painting the den a warm orange glow that soothed his tired bones and the hulking beast found himself lowering himself to the ground, tucking his legs up neatly under him.

Once settled, he went back to watching Tyr work. “I take it your tutor has passed?”

Tyr
Tending the small yet growing flame, Tyr responded over his shoulder, “Yes. My tutor was quite old when I came to him in my fourth year, and I stayed by him until he went off to die near Uir’s meadow to be with the mother when he passed. At this time, I was seven, and a full member of the herd, thanks to his guidance and that of many others who were willing to share their experience with me.” Putting the pot into the flame again, he poured the now tepid water from the water skin into it. In a bit of a tired daze, Tyr sent the swan to sit in the cold, hoping that the cold would better preserve the flesh and slow the decomposition.

Once the water had become warm enough, he began applying it to the cracked plant matter that stuck to his patient’s thick hairs. He tried his best to not tug at Reichenbach’s pelt, but some hairs came out with the dried poultice regardless. “Alright, let that breathe while I make up this pondweed, okay?” Tyr commanded the brown stag as he turned back to the fire.


Reichenbach
Reichenbach listened, then mused over the information. A tutor, huh? He had never really been tutored before. Except by his mother and father, but that was something they were obligated to do if they did not wish for their young to die. No, he had never actually sought someone out to help him. He had always managed to do things and figure them out by himself.

But he supposed that everyone had their own way of learning. He guessed Tyr’s was through elders. The brown stag flicked an ear back when the removal of the dried medicine pulled at his coat, mildly annoyed that he would have a few hairs missing, but then nodded as Tyr instructed him to let it be and breathe. The cool air hit the wound and made it feel even more sensitive, flesh twitching, and Reichenbach resisted the urge to lick it.

Tyr
I need this to be a smoother salve, Tyr mused as he reached for some thick fleshed leaves and ground them onto the stone. Sighing at the strong aroma of his herbs, he pulled the slightly slimy pondweed from his pouch, tearing it into small pieces and slowly adding it into his mixture. It always was a slightly longer process with the water plants, they had such thick walls and tough flesh. Noting Reichenbach’s discomfort at the exposed sores, he tried to give some reassurance, “It will only sting until I get this poultice on it, then it will tingle for a little bit, but that’s just the infection being drawn out for good.” Reichenbach gave him a slightly dirty look, clearly not enjoying this experience. “You’ve been incredibly strong thus far, and I wouldn’t have made it as far as you did today with your same injuries.” Tyr wasn’t trying to hurt Reichenbach’s pride, but his thought that maybe he came off as slightly condescending with his final comment.

Going back to his shelves, Tyr pulled down more Willow Reed and began to strip it down to the bark, having tossed his previous bandages into the fire to keep it going for warmth. Doing this, the only sound between the three Blackwoods was the occasional pop of the fire. Standing slowly, Tyr said, “alright, I’m going to apply this salve to the wounds, please don’t jerk, or it could get too much into your coat, which would waste the mixture.” Applying dabs of the balm to Reichenbach’s side and chest with the tip of his nose, he smoothed even amounts and backed off when he had finished. Wiping his nose against his leg, he asked, “how does that feel now?”


Reichenbach
Skin twitching as the burn of medicinal herbs went to work, Reichenbach remained quiet. He watched Tyr with hawk like intensity, inspecting his now treated wounds once the other stag had backed up.

Not bad. The burn was gone and the spread was even. He nodded his approval. “Better,” he replied, getting to his feet. “Is that all?”

Tyr
Pulling a long strip of Willowreed up, he grunted through clenched teeth, “Just...about, I just need you to hold still for two more minutes.” Walking back over to Reichenbach, he tied the reed cross-ways on his chest, running it directly over the wound that sat there. After tieing a few more pieces of willowreed around him like a bandage, he righted himself and said, “There, you’re finally done. If it gets a little worse, you can make the bloodnettle poultice. It’s pretty easy to make and I’ll send some with you and Zecho if you plan on leaving tonight, although, the snow is getting kind of heavy out there. Also, your wounds should heal pretty quickly, and once they scab over, I need you to take it easy, as any time they crack or open they will bleed. Alright?”

Reichenbach

Reichenbach nodded. Sounded easy enough. He glanced towards the exit and noted that the snow was indeed rising and he wasn't quite sure he wanted to make the trip all the way to his own den in the storm. It wouldn't do anything to help his wounds and he had no desire to get heavily sick again.

He turned to see Zecho yawning in his spot, ears drooping, and sighed to himself. “Perhaps we will wait here until the storm has settled out.” He gestured towards Zecho. “And I have no desire to lose him in a snow drifts somewhere.”

At Tyr's nod of consent at said plan, Reichenbach settled back down in a corner of the room. “Your services are appreciated.” He said, but did not elaborate with a thank you. As the giant fell asleep, however, Zecho came over to Tyr.

“He really means thank you,” the colt murmured, so that his protector would not hear. He gave Tyr a small smile of thanks before going back to Reichenbach’s side and laying down.

In the morning, they were both gone, a sample of bloodnettle missing along with them.