Jahrra gazed into the mysterious, golden eyes of the old woman as she tried to determine her intentions. She could definitely be an ally when it comes to the twins, she thought shrewdly, but is all this kindness just a façade? Could she really be evil and simply be waiting to gain my trust, like the witches in all the old stories?
Jahrra pondered these thoughts for a while, but in the end decided that the Mystic Archedenaeh wasn’t dangerous in the least. She’s probably just glad to be talking to someone else after all her years of isolation. Jahrra smiled once again, wondering if during all this time the woman had been reading her mind.
“Tell me about your garden,” Jahrra said cheerfully, trying to cover her conspiratorial thoughts.
“I thought you’d never ask!” Denaeh beamed, turning once again into her younger, more vibrant self and leading Jahrra through the patches of mushrooms and clumps of grasses and vines.
Once she’d completely done away with her lingering hesitance, Jahrra spoke freely and easily with Denaeh. She found it comforting to talk with the Mystic, and soon she was telling her own story about her life and her friends and school. Denaeh listened carefully, nodding in the right places and smiling when Jahrra’s story needed encouragement.
Although Denaeh seemed to be intrigued by Jahrra’s stories, the Mystic wasn’t paying particularly close attention to what the girl was saying. Not that she was insensitive to Jahrra’s troubles, however. Denaeh merely needed to assess the girl, to figure out what she was made of. Yes, the Mystic thought to herself as her eyes glittered, making Jahrra believe she was smiling in response to her description of Kiniahn Kroi, you are special indeed . . .
“. . . and then he pulled me down from the face of the waterfall, just like that, and I fell almost thirty feet!”
Jahrra’s enthusiastic tale broke past Denaeh’s thoughts, and the Mystic realized that she would have to think about the future later. Right now she needed to befriend this young girl, gain her undying trust and loyalty, and make sure she had some kind of influence on her life from this point on.
Jahrra paused, giving the Mystic an odd look. After a few moments, she continued on with her story, forgetting that her new friend had seemed to lose focus for awhile.
“Anyhow, we went back to their house, and Gieaun, Scede and I were able to spend the whole evening in the kitchens with all of the cooks and maids. It was the best Solstice Eve I’ve ever had. And can you believe it? I didn’t even want to go!”
Archedenaeh grinned broadly over the small fire she had kindled beside her garden and added, “Yes, Jahrra, you’ll learn in life that many of the things you wish against turn out to be the best things that ever happen to you.”
Jahrra smiled at this. She liked this strange woman and at the same time wondered if Hroombra was aware of her presence in the forest. But her mentor would have told her by now, wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t stress how dangerous the Wreing Florenn was if he knew about Denaeh. Jahrra sighed wistfully. The Mystic was so much easier to talk to than the other adults she knew, and was so much more willing to answer her endless questions.
While Jahrra was reflecting on her sudden good fortune, a strange, crackling call cut through the thick air and a big, dark bird flew out of the mist, swooping down onto Denaeh’s shoulder.
“Whoa!” Jahrra exclaimed, falling to the ground in surprise.
The strange bird grumbled and fluffed up his feathers while Denaeh laughed, absent-mindedly stroking its glossy wings. Jahrra quickly rolled back into a sitting position, gawking openly at the odd bird. It looked like a raven, but it was larger with shorter legs. She stood up slowly, brushing herself off for a second time and approached Denaeh cautiously. She let out a low sigh when she realized the bird wasn’t black but a deep, dark blue color with silky feathers all around its neck, legs and back. Its neck feathers were streaked with a creamy yellow color, and the feathers on its back and legs were the same.
The bird made another strange cawing noise and Jahrra noticed that it had some sort of seed or acorn lodged in its glossy beak.
“Very well, Milihn, plant it on the edge of the mushroom patch,” Denaeh said to the bird, smiling and smoothing its silky feathers.
The raven-like bird fluttered off of her shoulder and glided to the other side of the garden. It landed rather awkwardly, hopping to a stop, and quickly shoved the seed into the soil, using its beak to cover it back up with black soil.
“What on Ethoes was that?” Jahrra queried breathlessly.
“Ah,” Denaeh said, smiling broadly, “that is my bird, Milihn. He’s a korehv.”
“What’s a korehv?” Jahrra asked, still stunned, wondering if she could find it in any of Hroombra’s books.
“A korehv is a bird native to Felldreim similar to ravens and crows. They’re also highly intelligent and are prone to collecting seeds and other useful objects, so you can see why he and I are so compatible.”
Milihn croaked contentedly and flew back to his master’s shoulder. He fluffed up his feathers and shook, dropping one large wing feather as he did so. Denaeh reached out and plucked it from the air before it hit the ground. She turned the feather in her fingers, examining it. Then she held it out to Jahrra.
“A gift from the both of us, it will bring you luck.”
Jahrra took the feather speechlessly, as if she were being offered a rare gem. She looked at it for a while, the shimmering blue color none like she’d ever seen.
“Thank you,” she finally said, tucking it away safely into a pocket inside her vest.
“He keeps me company in this lonely place,” Denaeh continued calmly after a short silence.
Milihn was now cocking his head to the side, observing Jahrra with one black, glossy eye. He let out a low, grumbling noise, causing Jahrra to flinch.
“That means he approves of you,” the Mystic said, grinning and scratching behind the bird’s neck.
“Oh, well, I like him too,” Jahrra replied sheepishly.
Once the shock of Milihn’s arrival wore off, Jahrra and Denaeh spent most of half an hour admiring the Mystic’s exotic garden. Not only did she have every kind of mushroom that grew in Oescienne, but she grew many wild herbs and plants and spices as well, all useful in helping with different ailments.
“Now, this kind of mushroom,” she said, leaning down and pulling up a dark purple one, “is very good at curing headaches. And this herb,” she continued, plucking the leaves off of a green and white plant, “helps to ease the stomach.”
Jahrra got out her journal and sketched and listed all of the different plants and fungi that Denaeh had growing in her garden. While Jahrra drew, the Mystic weeded, pulling at tough and stubborn plants that seemed to bring the whole earth up with them when she finally loosened them.
“Ugh, awful things these weeds, if only my other plants were so determined to stay alive,” she said, and then to end the silence that had been emanating from the girl sketching next to her she added, “So, Jahrra, tell me more about yourself. What do you do with your friends other than get into trouble with your classmates?”
Denaeh flashed Jahrra a teasing grin, but the girl’s head had flown up and her eyes had grown as large as apples.
“Oh no!” she said suddenly, shutting her journal with violence.
“What is it?” Denaeh asked, afraid she’d said something to offend her guest.