it's a little bit of magic to end the world

POSTED: Tue Apr 17, 2018 2:59 pm

There were rumors of plants growing southwest of Salsola, around the curve of the bay and near to the path traveled between the Kingdom proper and its Portland outpost. Having always found himself moving east or south in his travels from Salsola, Neith had only traveled west once or twice between trips to and from the outpost as child and adult. He knew little to nothing of the region’s natural horticulture, but one thing was certain: blossoms as tall as trees, with stems for trunks and petals in the sky? Impossible. Even his mother had been baffled at the prospect and dismissed it as myth.

But it was an excuse to venture into the spring yet again, and Neith took it. With every step his satchel clinked with empty jars or the scraping metal of knives and tools. His shoulder began to ache from the weight. The Heiwa was a doctor of enough practice and experimentation to arrogantly consider himself knowledgable or instinctual. He had studied herbs and flowers for months, perhaps even a year now since the illness that breezed through in the previous spring. He was intrigued, and myth or not, an investigation was worth bringing back to Salsola to crop himself up upon, if only temporarily.

Assaulted by scents near to the coast, Neith stopped short of land he thought unclaimed and took a wide margin around its considerable territory. He should have known about its foundation, whatever it was, but that was the job of the scouts. He wondered if the pack had crafted the rumors of those flowers, for he saw nothing along the coastline for as long as he walked, and nothing out of sorts when he looped around their packland and made his way back towards the water.

He stopped on the other side of the St. John’s River. While waiting for his traps to catch dinner, he spread out his jars of gathered sprouts and early blossoms and sketched with charcoal across the back of a thin strip of birch bark, hunched by the light of his fire.

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