Ryn of Avonside

Dr. Wilcott arrived at the edge of the forest almost exactly when she said she would — an hour after our meeting in her office. Mer, seeing that the hard talking was over, trusted me with the magic side of things and left. She left in a hurry, too…

I hoped she'd open up to me about what was wrong later, because I was coming up with all sorts of doomsday scenarios.

“Catherine, thank you for waiting. I had to set quite a lot of things in motion in a very short amount of time,” said Dr. Wilcott. She was in the type of clothing you wear while painting, just as I'd suggested.

I nodded, only able to muster a small, but pretty genuine, smile. “Let's go.”

I led her into the woods for a good five hundred yards, to a small rocky ravine where I planted the fruit. As we walked, I had to keep reminding myself to be nice and supportive, because no matter how run-of-the-mill magic was becoming for me, this was a life changing event for Dr. Wilcott.

I knew that something was wrong when we got within fifty yards. My magical senses lacked the sort of warm, reverent taste that mage-fruit exuded… which could only mean one thing.

“Oh no,” I said, before we'd turned the corner. When we did, I had to steady myself with a hand on a nearby rock. How was I fucking things up this badly?

“What's wrong?” Dr. Wilcott asked, her hand landing gently on my shoulder. “Are you sick? Are you okay?”

With my free hand, I gestured to where the shrivelled stalk of the mage-fruit still stood. “I didn't hide it well enough.”

“You didn't— oh no,” she muttered, as she realised what I was saying. “Oh no.”

“There's someone unknown in my grove, inside a mage fruit…” I said, looking up at the tall faculty professor.

She looked anxiously around the forest. “That's bad, right?”

I nodded, then felt a spike of clarity as I realised that two people had seen me — Dr. Richards and Rhea.

“It's either Dr. Richards, or Rhea,” I explained. “They both saw me around when I was planting the fruit.”

I saw in real time as Wilcott's huge brain kicked back into gear and she began to tackle the problem. “If it's Richards, that's fine. He can be an ass, and he loves power a little too much for my liking, but he's still on our side. Assuming you still intend to give me this magic fruit, he can be dealt with. Rhea… she is the girl who dislikes you and Ryn, correct?”

“The terf, yeah,” I agreed.

“She'll be a different problem,” she said, pursing her lips. “I don't know enough about her to guess.”

I sighed and turned to lean against the boulder. “She'll continue her vendetta against transgender people, I think. You faculty folks haven't really done much to fight her bullshit, despite your promises.”

Wilcott shot me a look. “We're busy keeping this place from falling apart… but yes, I suppose we should deal with that.”

Well… it was nice to hear her say that. It'd be better if she stopped being complacent on the issue and actually put out a hard ruling or law about our rights. Oh, actually… that's an idea.

“How about this,” I said, feeling my own mind begin to fire on all cylinders. “I'll go make another fruit and give it to you. When you're out of the fruit again, you do something solid about the rights of all minorities, including us trans folk?”

Dr. Wilcott nodded instantly. “I can do that — I accept that deal. It's a shrewd move to put me on an even playing field with them, anyway. I can't keep them in check nearly as effectively when they have so much more hard power than me.”

I nodded. I understood exactly how much power the recipient of my fruit would gain.

“Wait here,” I said, and transferred to my grove. Oddly, I noticed that the jump was smooth, unlike when Mer had taken me to Ryn's grove. Were the Order's rings an inferior version of the ability or something?

Ah, don't get sidetracked, Catherine. Concentrating, I reached out to my grove and established mental contact. It wrapped me in a cloak of safety — a wordless, formless communion of comfort. Just like last time, I thought about solidifying my hold on my power… but nothing happened.

Confused, I repeated the mental process, and again nothing happened, but I was listening this time. As I tried, my grove tried too, but it felt… tired, somehow. It felt like my legs did after I climbed from the bottom of Ryn's tree to the top.

It wasn't going to work. Maybe there was a cooldown period… or a refractory period in the process? Whatever the case, I needed a plan B. Wait, no, I needed… well… crap.

As I was racking my brain for options, I saw the fruit out of the corner of my eye. It hung from the rock wall of my massive stone chimney, with the bulbous bottom a few inches off the ground. With how it was attached to the wall, it looked like… something gross. Glaring daggers at it and whoever was inside it, I—

I really looked at the fruit, and for a brief moment, I wondered what would happen if I just… chopped it up. The problem would be solved, but… it made my stomach turn. I couldn't murder someone. God, fuck, what a horrific thought.

Anyway, if I couldn't make one myself, I could always ask one of the others. Ryn was probably off adventuring on the Ring, but Cee…

Popping out of my grove, I headed for the lower entrance into Ryn's one. It was covered

As I was floating over, I sniffed the air. It smelled weirdly fresh. Frowning, I glanced around. The plants of the garden were busy twisting and turning in fractal patterns, like usual— oh.

In the distance, far enough that the twisting jungle almost obscured it, I could see an undulating wall of magic that crackled with lightning. A storm. Ohhhh fudge, that was like, mega bad. Wait, what would it do to the fruit?

Nuh uh, nope, no sir, I was not letting whoever was in that fruit get a crazy storm transformation.

Hopping back into my grove, I hurried to the fruit and began to weave protective spell plants around it. Huge leaves, bigger than my entire arm span, grew up and arched around the fruit. More and more appeared, layering up into a cocoon that would, hopefully, keep the storm from interfering.

With that task complete, I created a whole handful of growth-shrub seeds, then whistled to call my ferrets over. One by one, their little furry bodies bounded out of the foliage like fuzzy irate slinkies.

“Line up, troops!” I demanded, giving them all a stern look. To my surprise, they mostly complied. The line was a little wonky, but it was, without a doubt, a line.

Placing the seeds down in a pile of the ground, I gave each ferret a look. “I need you to go wild with these seeds, okay? I want them stashed and grown all over the grove, you hear me?”

Six pointed little snouts nodded.

“Excellent!” I grinned, feeling so, so much affection for my tiny critters. My grove definitely chose their forms well, I had to admit. “I have to go deal with another fire, so I'm leaving this to you all. If you get it right, we'll be stashing a whole lot of magic to use later! The biggest stash of magic.”

Six little fluffy ferrets began making tiny honking sounds, and one broke ranks to grab some seeds. Just like that, the competition was on, and they were unleashed upon my grove. Excellent. Good babies.

With that sorted, I hopped back out to the Nameless Garden and rushed over to Ryn's grove.

Once inside, I headed for Verburch. There were almost two dozen buildings in the Order's idyllic little village now, all made with heavy stone foundations and half-timbered plaster walls. It was also currently a hive of activity as people ran around hammering boards over the windows, and otherwise securing the town to weather the impending storm.

I saw the first bun on the outskirts of the town and made a beeline for them. It was Smoke, the bun assigned to help Bray with his work. Except, Smoke was a mage-bun now, so they weren't so focused on their duties anymore. Most of the mage-buns gained a healthy dose of independent thought when they came out of a fruit.

“Hey Smoke,” I called, right as they were levitating a board up to a second story window.

They squeaked in surprise, then spun and thumped a gunmetal-grey foot at me. “No surprise!”

“Sorry, sorry,” I said, holding my hands up placatingly. “Can you let Cee know I'm looking for her?”

I got a sassy little grunt in answer to my question, but they closed their eyes and, a moment later, opened them again. “Cee knows you looking for her. She be here soon.”

“Thanks, Smoke,” I said, smiling at them.

They wore an adorable little vest and skirt combo that made them look both dapper and elegant at the same time. It was a great look, and I wondered if I could pull it off like that.

Cee arrived after a couple of minutes, just as Smoke moved on to the next building over. Ryn’s pseudo-child was wearing a tiny denim jacket over a flannel shirt. Black pants completed the ensemble. Was someone giving the buns fashion advice?

“Catherine!” Said the first bunny mage, bounding over. “What's up? Whatcha need, friend?”

My eyebrows climbed half an inch up my forehead. That was a new style of speech… She was even putting on an odd, warped version of some English accent that I didn't recognise.

“Why are you talking like that?” I asked, continuing to give her an odd look.

Cee deflated at my words. “Is it wrong? Is it bad? I saw it on a TV show where all the people talked funny and a man flew around in a spinny blue box.”

My heart ached as I realized I’d accidentally disrupted Cee’s attempt to explore and understand her identity. 

I gave her what I really hoped was a reassuring smile. “No, no, it's cute. I was just confused. Anyway, I need your help.”@@novelbin@@

It took me a minute or two to explain the situation to Cee, but she was smart, and didn't need me to reason out why I was in this situation.

Cee, looking righteous, nodded when I finished. “Yeah, I put a bloody embargo on Rhea's cafe. No sour beans for her, the mean, catty, nasty, bad person.”

“I figured,” I laughed. “What about the fruit, though?”

“My grove is still sleepy, but… hey Smoke!” Cee said, calling over to the other mage-bun.

Looking frustrated, Smoke dropped what they were doing and hopped over. “What?”

“You got fruit ready?” Cee asked, a lot of tone and nuance leaving her tone. It was replaced by a lot more animation in her ears, whiskers, and head angle.

“Yes. Grove is bigger too, so probably time,” Smoke said, mimicking Cee's shift to a more bunny-centric mode of communication.

Cee grunted. “Okay. Get fruit. Catherine give it to outburrow human.”

Ho-boy. I wonder what Dr. Wilcott would say when she found out her mage-parent would be a one-year-old bipedal bunny mage? Hopefully she was chill with it…