Harvest - 7 (Patreon)

I stood on the forest's edge atop a stony ridge, the wind ripping around me faster and faster; a gale of air and a wall of water mixing as a storm cloud roiled above me. The effect was localised, small, perhaps only a few dozen feet across as my magic fed and condensed the howling and roaring elementals. They were willing participants, friends who had been with me all along while I worked with Vivi across Gilneas, only now we were trying something a little more combative.

Raising my hands in the air, alight with power, there was a thunderous boom. A bolt of lightning fell from the cloud and scorched the snow-covered earth. And then another.

After the twentieth strike I lost count, some falling at the same time as others or outside of where I was looking. The rocky ground was pockmarked by bolts of lightning and small fires had been started and doused by the storm. It was, as attempts went, by far my most successful.

"Hurricane, get?" I giggled, grinning widely and feeling giddy despite the wet chill I'd subjected myself to. If I practised with the elementals enough, taking the time to work and play with them more, I might be able to make lightning more directly, like a Shaman could. But that wasn't the main reason I was excited; with Vivi, or other rain-calling witches, we could amp it up further and have another weapon to defend the wall with.

Maybe, if it was strong enough, we wouldn't even need the worgen to keep Gilneas safe.

"Thank you," I murmured into the wind and rain, listening carefully to the whistling reply and the patter of falling water as the storm fully dispersed. I held up my hands and caught the last raindrops in my palms, before letting them fall.

Thanking the wind was easy. It enjoyed listening to me, bringing me secrets and warnings, being heard. Water was still an enigma to me, but I had found they appreciated when I didn't shy away from the rain. Or when I fell into a pond trying to mimic Vivi's water walking trick.

Generally, whenever I got wet they found it amusing or desirable in some way. Sometimes I wondered if the elements were all juvenile.

Spotting my friend and student arriving, I slid my way down the now slushy ridge and started heading back towards my camp. I'd arranged to meet up with Heather and Richard before we headed into the Blackwald; Lorna had dropped me off here two days ago, further ahead of them than I'd expected. Even so, we'd be early to the solstice meeting.

Knowing that I was going to be in the woods for another week, most of which would be spent walking or busytalking rather than being spent preparing or practising further almost soured my mood. If I could just fly to Tal'Doren on my own, like Celestine must be, things would be far more convenient. A commitment of days instead of weeks each solstice.

At least if the Raven were willing this would be the last time, and I would no longer be so dependant on Lorna. This trip and the one after with Celestine and Aderic to reach the capital for the New Year’s Ball where we would be the guests of honour.

Getting closer to my camp I saw a third figure, wondering if Joseline had changed her mind and come along despite her pregnancy, but no. They were too tall and broad, and the voice I was hearing in response to shouts from Heather was masculine.

"No! For the last time, no!" Heather screamed furiously, not even noticing my approach as she shielded Richard from the man.

"What's going on?" I asked, frowning at him as I quickened my pace. "I'm surprised to see you here, Johnathon." I recognised him only because he had abandoned Meredith after that bastard's actions had come to light. A mark in his favour even if this was a mark against it.

Johnathon shrugged, putting on an air of nonchalance despite the furor that had occurred between him and Heather. "We all end up on the same road, going the same way. Ain't more than one good route from Crowford to here. Not that I've got a gryphon to ride like you do."

"He has been following me even when I told him to sod off. Trying to take Richard off of me." Heather snapped at him. "You wouldn't be daring to try if my mother were with me!"

"All I've been saying is that a lad needs a man to guide him, not a woman. You offered to take him on and were refused. If I do it no one will bat an eye." He said magnanimously, shrugging his shoulders and sighing at me, as if to say Heather was being irrational and there was nothing he could do.

Heather was fuming, at the very edge of her patience as he pressed on in a way that sounded oh so reasonable. If, of course, one forgot he was trying to poach an apprentice Heather had worked with for closing on three years now. And ignored the misogyny of it.

"Shove your fish guts about making him soft where–"

"Heather." I said sternly, putting a hand on her shoulder. Ranting at him wasn't going to solve this if he had already refused to take a no for an answer. "I see why you are offering, Johnathon," my tone conveying that I did not in any way agree with him, "but there is an opinion here which matters far more than yours. Or even yours, Heather."

Looking at the deeply annoyed and unhappy teenager, who was glaring up at Johnathon, I invited him into the conversation. "Richard."

He took a moment to respond, being surprised I was asking him. "What?" He snapped, then thought better of it and spoke more politely. "What, Professer Arevin?"

My eye twitched. Frazzle had been the one to get my students to call me that over the last few months. The only one that wasn't was Trix. "The one who should decide who teaches you, is you. Both Heather and Johnathon here want you; one you've known for years, but who may be rejected from taking you as an apprentice again. The other you scarcely know, but will almost certainly be accepted and will take you away from your home."

"Nah." Johnathon shook his head. "Ain't more than an hour's walk from me cottage to Crowford. He can stay with his mum an' dad if he likes, or stay with me an' visit them. But if I'm teaching him, I'm teaching him properly."

"And why did you never greet me, if you lived so close?" I asked, gritting my teeth to smile at him coldly. "I had no idea there were any other witches near my home. I thought the Rosethorns the closest."

"You stumbled into my land. If I were a more blunt sort I could've been mad about that." He shrugged again. "Weren't, though."

Richard looked between Johanathon and Heather once, before nodding to himself. "I pick my teach. Professor Rosethorn." He grinned at me cheekily. "Not like you'll stop teaching me if they don't accept anyway. What do I care what they think? Better two teachers than one. And I won't lose my friends."

Heather smiled and pulled into a tight hug, the teenager's cheeks suddenly going bright red from the contact. He struggled weakly but Heather was having none of it. "Of course Gwen can keep teaching you as well. Just like I'll keep helping with Trix when she's busy; I'm sure you'll appreciate that." She teased.

"Teach!" Richard squirmed, growing ever more embarrassed by the moment.

"Well, that settles it then." I said, meeting Johnathon's gaze. I was rather starting to dislike him and his flippancy. "He's made his decision. Now, I'd appreciate if you didn't bother us further."

He frowned, but didn't protest. "I won't vote against the boy's wishes. But if he gets rejected, then that's that and I told you so. Safe travels, Miss Arevin." Adjusting his travel sack he started hiking into the Blackwald.

"Safe travels." I nodded after him.

"Thank you for helping, Gwen." Heather said. "I hope he wasn't right."

"Doesn't matter!" Richard protested, still squirming against Heather's chest. "I'd rather wait another year than go with him anyway. He's a git and you're better in every way!"

"Glad you appreciate us." I laughed.

-oOoOo-

"Congratulations." I said to Heather as she brought Richard out of the circle to stand beside me. Richard wasn't short anymore, but I reached up to ruffle his hair anyway; he batted at my hand perfunctorily in his sleepy state but he was smiling. "You did well."

"'Course I did. Got the best teachers." He mumbled, leaning against Heather. She was beaming with pride; he'd lasted quite some time and was the only apprentice being put forward this winter.

The changes this summer had rather disrupted events. Some of the men had shown up, but not many; not all the women had either, admittedly, but most had. There had been a vote for Heather taking Richard on but it went firmly in her favour; notably, everyone who had gone with Heather and Joseline's group in helping the harvest voted in her favour.

And with Celestine glaring at many of the others, they fell in line too. The first fox to be taught by a raven officially in centuries and my friend was the one to be doing it.

"Can we bloody start the fire back up? It's freezing here!" Malcolm grumbled now the ritual was over, his arms clasped tight as he huddled under his heavy cloak. "The snow's getting into my boots."

"Mine are wrecked from trudging through this mess." Another man hissed, stomping his feet to keep warm.

"Buy better boots." Rachel snarked at them. "Bunch of pansies. I walked here twice the distance in snow drifts up to my knees an' you don't see me complaining. You've even got trousers on! We're in skirts." She gestured at me. "An' she's barely even in that!"

I swished my above-knee-length skirt idly. It was short by standards here but it was comfortably long for me. "Eh, I'm warm enough." Cheating with enchantments was wonderful. The scarf I'd made for myself and Mama – which she'd cried over when I gifted it to her and put mine on and said we matched – was loaded with them. Mostly warmth, but there was certainly some degree of magical conductivity involved too.

Some enchantments were hard to quantify but something about it made it more special than any single item I'd made before. Maybe the heart I'd put into making it, the love of my mother and the desire to help bring us back together. I had truly loved working on everything with her since the harvest.

"She's the crazy girl who walked up to Talloren and asked for a gift." Malcolm dismissed with a quick shake of his head. "Likely don't even feel the cold."

Looking to Celestine for a moment, and seeing she had taken off her raven mask and looked amused, I walked over to him. Standing on my tip toes I tapped him on the nose, infusing him with a Mark of the Wild; one calling on the ideal of a thick fluffy blanket of sheep's wool to keep him warm. "There you go, little baby. One spell to help you keep warm in the cold, cold winter we ravens have dealt with for... oh, how long?"

"Three and a half centuries now." Old Grims snorted, bent over her walking stick. "Ain't even cold this year; these old bones cannae even feel it."

"C'mon, Richie. Let's get you to bed." Heather said, leading her yawning apprentice away. "So proud."

Looking up at the great flock of ravens in Tal'Doren's welcoming branches and feeling the rays of soothing moonlight my skin was basking in, I nodded. "A little early for me to retire. I'll do a lesson on Astral Magic tonight," I said, making a point to conjure a few starlights to light my path as I headed off. The fire would end up being a gossipping spot which I wasn't particularly interested in participating in. "Anyone who wants to learn, feel free to come along. Just don't expect to get anywhere in one night."

Malcolm, who had stopped shivering entirely and was looking decently puzzled, stared at me. "Right. Fine. Sure, make the cold go away with a touch. 'Course you can do that." Shaking his head he started after me. "Whatever. Might as well. You gonna make a fire?"

"Why bother? It's warm enough." I said, tossing my hair and laughing. If it came down to it I'd drop a mark on anyone who came; while the mark wasn't at all a cheap spell to cast, it was effective enough and lasted a while.

-oOoOo-

"This way, this way." Old Grims grumbled, trudging through the snow slowly and angrily with her walking stick. She was pushing herself too hard, too quickly, and Celestine had to catch her when she stumbled more than once. Not once did the old woman acknowledge it with anything other than a glare. "Don't speak up unless she speaks to you. Fox can be a brat and finds it funny, but the Raven won't let you get away with disrespect. Don't rightly know everything that counts as disrespect too."

Celestine nodded seriously. "None of your more... impressive antics, at this time, Gwyneth. This is an honour and you should treat it as such."

"Honour. Honour." The duskwing raven on her shoulder croaked, turning its head to the left. "Left."

A great flock of ravens in the treetops, that had been watching us for the last fifteen minutes of walking, all joined in. A great chorus telling us to turn left.

"Bah, I knew that." Old Grims said, changing her course slightly at the next tree. "Been down this path a hundred times. Don't gotta give me directions, dusky."

The raven ruffled its feathers irritably and those above us laughed.

"I'll stay quiet." I said, and I did intend to try to. "Does she have a title I should use?"

"Maiden of Dusk." Celestine said simply, carefully pushing a branch out of the way. "We are almost there. She is expecting you but... don't think that means she will be kind."

Nodding I steeled myself. There were a number of reasons this wouldn't be like meeting Lord Renard. I hadn't saved one of her children to earn the meeting, I wasn't in the same kind of aggravated mood as I had been then – six months was enough time to start to come to terms with things – and I rather doubted I could build the same sort of rapport that I had with Lord Renard through the knowledge I held. He had called her lesser than even he, and from that I could infer that she wasn't a Wild God. Still powerful, still one of our gods, but not one of the great animals of Azeroth that had been blessed by Freya.

Maybe she was related to Odyn's ravens? But Lord Renard had implied he wouldn't think highly of her either, so probably not. Her sire was from Kalimdor... Too many ways to interpret the information I had to come up with a working conclusion. For all I knew, she could just be a raven that lived around the Well of Eternity for too long.

My starlights started wavering, flickering, and dimming; distracting me into almost walking into Celestine as she came to a halt.

"We're here." Old Grims said, crouching down in the snow before a wizened old tree.

'Here', such as it was, wasn't even a clearing, let alone a glade or grove that felt like anything. Just a single old and worn down tree, broken and dead from age yet still standing against wind and time due to the sturdiness of its roots.

There hadn't been any magical protections that I could feel either, no distorted paths or mind-bending illusions to hide the way to this spot. Only the ravens and their watchful eyes that saw every step we took since we started in this direction; if I hadn't long grown used to their gaze, I would've found it quite eerie.

The duskwing raven turned to look at me, its beady black eyes catching mine. “Up.” It spoke, taking wing and flying up into the branches of the tree.

Craning my neck, I looked up into the tree. More ravens than I could count, the great conspiracy that adored Tal'Doren's branches during the initiation and Mingling all present in a tree far smaller. And, above them all, great midnight black wings that twinkled with dusky stars. Two great eyes that swallowed up light, faint streams tracing their way from my starlights to her until they were swallowed whole.

One by one they winked out, until the only light present was the great raven's folded wings. Even the stars in the cloudless sky had been dimmed to nothing in her presence.

She shuffled her wings and cocked her head, a duskwing raven fluttering down from the tree to land in front of us. It wasn't the same one, far, far larger; the size of a child rather than a toddler.

"Speaker." The oversized duskwing raven croaked, "Speaker. Speaker. Not Speaker."

"I'm not speaker anymore, great raven." Old Grims grunted, not bothering to look at the raven who had spoken and instead focusing on the demigod above us.

"Maiden, I have brought the one I spoke of for your consideration." Celestine said formally.

It was hard to know where to look as the Maiden of Dusk shifted in her perch. She wasn't the one talking. "Speaker, My Voice." The large duskwing raven said, hopping towards Celestine through the snow. "Not Voice. My Voice."

"I speak with the voice of the raven, having surrendered my own. Yet I still seek to advise."

"Fool." Alwyn said, and I whipped my head around only to find ravens. "Fool." One croaked again, a perfect mimicry of the man who had twisted my mind six months ago.

My heart pounded and only when Celestine put her arm on mine did I realise I was drawing Astral magic into a lance to throw at– he wasn't here. It was just a damn bird trying to rile me up. Gritting my teeth I let it disperse, the magical starlight once again being swallowed by the Maiden of Dusk before it could disperse.

I hadn't even reclaimed the magic I had put into the spell, she had taken it all.

"Perhaps it is foolish as one who speaks in your name to ask such, but ask I did. If you wished to refuse I could have done no more than that." Celestine said calmly.

"Fox." The large raven said, sniffing with disdain.

Turning to it, then deciding that I should address the one talking I looked up. The ravens were just a conduit; the raven above us, staring down imperiously, was the one directing their words. "Maiden of Dusk, I have been blessed by the Fox, Lord Renard, a child of Freya and grandchild of Eonar. I am glad to call myself worthy of his blessing." I held a hand over my heart, hoping I wasn't misremembering this. "But, half of this lifetime ago, you called me interesting. Have I failed to uphold that moniker?"

In a flurry of feathers and darkness, there was suddenly a head peering over my shoulder. An eye the size of my fist that was so black it hurt to look at mere inches away from my own, and a beak longer than my arm stretching out in front of me. It took all the willpower I had not to scream.

And, even then, I flinched and let out an undignified squeak.

"Interesting." The large duskwing raven spoke. "Interesting. Interesting." It scoffed, a perfect mimicry of Lord Renard's scoff. "Fox."

My eyes watered as I kept eye contact with the demigod. "Have there been none in the past who earned the blessing of both forms?" I asked; Celestine and Old Grims were gone. Whatever the demigod had done had moved me, or them, and left me isolated. "It is not an impossibility. Of that, I know for a fact."

"In all? There have been five." Nim said, the blink fox slinking out from behind a tree with her tails swishing gently. Tricks followed at her heels, cowed and cautious as she glanced at the multitude of ravens. "I greet the Maiden of Dusk, Mother of Ravens, and Watcher of the Seal."

"Greetings. Fox." The duskwing raven said back to her, the great beak retreating and the dusk-filled wings returning to the tree.

I breathed deep as my heart hammered. When Lord Renard had lashed out, turning his anger against the world, I had felt a primal fear that had made me certain that if he wished me to die I would. This was... not quite the same. Terror, yes, but not unsurmountable. A great danger instead of a simple fact.

"Why?" The raven asked, turning to me. "Why? Why?"

"Why?"

"Why?"

Every raven in the trees spoke, a thousand voices all repeating the same word. People I knew, people I hated, people I loved. It was maddening.

"Why You?"

"Watcher of the Seal. Of the seal created to hold the worgen back." I said to myself, my eyes closed. "I made a promise, no less than a binding oath in these matters, to Tal'Doren. I know how to neuter the threat of the worgen, the Druids of the Pack, permanently and must do so within my lifetime." Opening my eyes I looked up to meet the itch-inducing black eyes of the Maiden of Dusk. "I saw you looking over their sleeping forms. You maintain a vigil. I seek to end it. Is that reason enough?"

"Try. Many Try."

I held back a frown. "They didn't know what worked beforehand. I won't break the seal without the tools in place, but others seek to breach it regardless. The scythe still remains on Kalimdor."

A great hiss erupted and feathers ruffled. Nim watched silently and I breathed carefully; while I could hardly outrun any bird, let alone one the size of Rokkri, the presence of Lord Renard loomed somewhere behind the blink fox watching me.

If I had to, I could flee to him. Buy myself enough time to reach his protection.

One single black feather fell from above and landed in the snow in front of me. Too large to have come from any bird save Rokkri herself, it pulsated with magic that sapped the light from around it and made itself glimmer. It wasn't destroying the light, it was swallowing it and glutting itself.

"Prove. Prove." The duskwing raven said, flapping its wings but not taking flight. "Yours To Prove."

Taking the feather I held it gingerly. It held Rokkri's magic, her essence, the same thing that Lord Renard had bestowed upon me and given me his form with. Just not in a form that sent me into a dream where I was a fox. "I thank you, Maiden of Dusk, for this chance." I bowed my head.

Our meeting done with the ravens started taking flight, scattering, and great wings cast a shadow on the snow before disappearing. What she had offered was just that; a chance to prove myself. Nothing more, and nothing less; a trial I would overcome to get my keeper's damned flight form.

"Come. The way back is confusing in the dark." Nim said, leaving a trail in the snow for me to follow as she walked away. "You can admire your new plumage later."

I had now met both of our gods, those still with us, and survived. Of the two... I liked Lord Renard a lot more. And the foxes in general, though maybe that was bias because Tricks was so cute. Scooping up my little girl I gave her ear scratches as we made our way back to Tal'Doren.