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Description

Summer, Year 764 of the New Age
Featuring Kite|Stag|Herbalist , Kite's mother (NPC)
The Woods of Glenmore

The huge stag breathed deep, the heavy scents of another glorious summer lingering in his nose; late Summer evenings were one of his favourite times of year, partly for the smells alone. His den was at the furthest reaches of his family's glade, which some ancient ancestor had dedicated their life into creating a crescent moon shape on the edges of the Gardens, close to the river that flowed from Loch Kerr. It was a perfect place for those with a care for herbs and plants, especially the more solitary few.

This glade in particular had been passed down through generations of his family, eldest son to eldest son, with the provision that all female relatives were to be provided for, unless their mate chose to move them. Most does in his family had become herbalists, some stags too, although like his brothers, the majority had joined the guard. Kite could remember a time when this little area was full of the noise of his brothers sparring, while his mother and her sisters gossiped or discussed the uses of various herbs as his father looked on.

Since he and his father had fought, however, their family home was a much quieter place with only his mother and some of her apprentices making their dens here on a regular basis, and himself of course. His brothers stayed near the training grounds, he didn’t give a nugget about what his sire did as long as he left him and his mother alone.

Moving his thoughts from that somber path, he instead turned his focus back towards simply feeling the evening. Delicate, golden light filtered through the break in the trees, leaving itself in beams and dapples along the ground; the full heat of the day was over, tempered by nights cool whisper, although still carrying the promise of tomorrow. A few birds sang their evening’s song to break the still air, somewhere in the distance a fawn called and was hushed by its mother, and the first stirrings of the night's breeze rustled the deeply green leaves that surrounded them.

All the flowers were in full bloom, adding their heady perfume to the lush, green, loamy scent that was forest; lilies, peonies, daffodils and lavender all added their individual aromas, each one distinctive to his fairly trained nose, but blending together to make a scent that was uniquely home. Closing his eyes and settling his massive shoulders, the dark stag breathed deep once more, spreading his awareness out into the soil, and up into the roots of his living home. Feeling his heart beat with the pulse of the forest, he sensed little that could disturb the peace of the evening.

Sending a wave of peace and joy towards the trees, he revelled in the feeling of oneness, unable to bear thinking of those without this connection; how bland their life must be. A soft voice broke him out of his meditations, and he opened his eyes with a gentle smile at his mother, sharing his feeling of well being with her.

“I don’t think the grass needs your help much, lovvie, grass around here rarely does.” Her soft voice pitched low enough to still be pleasing in the quiet, she nodded her delicate head towards his feet. There was definitely a much greener, denser patch beneath him than there had been, and some late daisies had been tempted to show their faces.

“We can’t all have your control, Mother.” He responded, somewhat sheepishly, carefully stepping away from his new patch of greenery, “it doesn’t always go where I expect, all that energy...I suppose it will come with time, but it’s hard not to become impatient.”

“You’re still learning, as am I, how to control it fully. This depth of magic is new to our herd. Not wholly new, but the forest is speaking to us again and we just need to re-learn how to listen.” For a moment they paused, hearing the forest around them and simply enjoying the closeness of another living being. His mother lightly nibbled his shoulder in an affectionate way, as she had done since he could remember.

“If you have a moment, oh hulking son of mine, I might need a couple of things collecting; I’m more tired of late than I should be, and I find it a bit harder to focus, what would you suggest?”

He nodded at her request, happy to help and even happier to learn more, these tests of his knowledge were common, although she wouldn’t trust him to try and heal anyone else just yet. Making him flex his mind in order to help her out, however, was perfectly safe as there was little she didn’t know about their indigenous plant life. His dam was getting on in years now, and while her mind was as sharp as ever, her body, particularly her eyesight, was failing her. She was beginning to rely on her son more and more.

“Perhaps a small amount of foxglove?” He considered aloud, mulling over various plant properties in his head, “that can be good to restore strength and energy...Or maybe a tea of Aster Berries? Very weak though, it can make you even more sick, but the berries are about right for picking at the moment...Personally I would prefer Foxglove.”

He looked to his mother for confirmation, although he very rarely failed these simple tests of memory, it was hard wired to check with her before taking any action. She smiled a tired, proud smile, nodding slightly and giving him a poke with her muzzle.

“Not bad, my love, not bad. But you forgot the most important thing… I’m getting old! All I need is more rest, to eat a bit more and walk a bit less. A trick question,I’m afraid, but a healer must also know when to just let a body be. Foxglove at my age could be risky, it can overstimulate the heart and cause chest pain, but a tiny amount steeped in water isn’t too bad an idea.”

“Humph. You’ve got seasons left yet, Mother,” he snorted, uncomfortable with truly facing her age, “especially if your apprentices have anything to do with it. Besides, I haven’t learnt a fraction of what you know yet, and there isn’t anyone else I’d rather learn it from. Óganach will just have to wait a while.”

“Don’t blaspheme dear, he’ll call me when he calls me, and I won’t deny him.” Another shoulder nibble took all sting out her rebuke; although she would never say so, her last and largest son was the closest to her heart. “Come, walk with me and see me settled. The night draws close and I feel the need to have the warmth of my nest around me.”

In companionable silence the two paced slowly together, giving the occasional friendly nod or smile towards the other inhabitants of the glade. They made a strange pair; she tiny, light, lithe and delicate, and he huge, dark and intimidating. However it was easy to see their resemblance as he carried himself in the same graceful way as his dam despite his size, and his face was hers in structure although in much larger proportions.

The evening light dipped from molten gold, to hazy pink and dropped towards the purple of twilight. The delicate song of blackbirds was replaced by the somnolent hoots of the owls as silvery lights began dotting the sky, while the trees below rustled and murmured to one another about the secrets of the day. Twining around their comforting roots, the fawnlings slept, safe and secure beneath the darkened canopy of their living, breathing home.

Description

Summer, Year 764 of the New Age
Featuring Kite|Stag|Herbalist , Kite's mother (NPC)
The Woods of Glenmore

The huge stag breathed deep, the heavy scents of another glorious summer lingering in his nose; late Summer evenings were one of his favourite times of year, partly for the smells alone. His den was at the furthest reaches of his family's glade, which some ancient ancestor had dedicated their life into creating a crescent moon shape on the edges of the Gardens, close to the river that flowed from Loch Kerr. It was a perfect place for those with a care for herbs and plants, especially the more solitary few.

This glade in particular had been passed down through generations of his family, eldest son to eldest son, with the provision that all female relatives were to be provided for, unless their mate chose to move them. Most does in his family had become herbalists, some stags too, although like his brothers, the majority had joined the guard. Kite could remember a time when this little area was full of the noise of his brothers sparring, while his mother and her sisters gossiped or discussed the uses of various herbs as his father looked on.

Since he and his father had fought, however, their family home was a much quieter place with only his mother and some of her apprentices making their dens here on a regular basis, and himself of course. His brothers stayed near the training grounds, he didn’t give a nugget about what his sire did as long as he left him and his mother alone.

Moving his thoughts from that somber path, he instead turned his focus back towards simply feeling the evening. Delicate, golden light filtered through the break in the trees, leaving itself in beams and dapples along the ground; the full heat of the day was over, tempered by nights cool whisper, although still carrying the promise of tomorrow. A few birds sang their evening’s song to break the still air, somewhere in the distance a fawn called and was hushed by its mother, and the first stirrings of the night's breeze rustled the deeply green leaves that surrounded them.

All the flowers were in full bloom, adding their heady perfume to the lush, green, loamy scent that was forest; lilies, peonies, daffodils and lavender all added their individual aromas, each one distinctive to his fairly trained nose, but blending together to make a scent that was uniquely home. Closing his eyes and settling his massive shoulders, the dark stag breathed deep once more, spreading his awareness out into the soil, and up into the roots of his living home. Feeling his heart beat with the pulse of the forest, he sensed little that could disturb the peace of the evening.

Sending a wave of peace and joy towards the trees, he revelled in the feeling of oneness, unable to bear thinking of those without this connection; how bland their life must be. A soft voice broke him out of his meditations, and he opened his eyes with a gentle smile at his mother, sharing his feeling of well being with her.

“I don’t think the grass needs your help much, lovvie, grass around here rarely does.” Her soft voice pitched low enough to still be pleasing in the quiet, she nodded her delicate head towards his feet. There was definitely a much greener, denser patch beneath him than there had been, and some late daisies had been tempted to show their faces.

“We can’t all have your control, Mother.” He responded, somewhat sheepishly, carefully stepping away from his new patch of greenery, “it doesn’t always go where I expect, all that energy...I suppose it will come with time, but it’s hard not to become impatient.”

“You’re still learning, as am I, how to control it fully. This depth of magic is new to our herd. Not wholly new, but the forest is speaking to us again and we just need to re-learn how to listen.” For a moment they paused, hearing the forest around them and simply enjoying the closeness of another living being. His mother lightly nibbled his shoulder in an affectionate way, as she had done since he could remember.

“If you have a moment, oh hulking son of mine, I might need a couple of things collecting; I’m more tired of late than I should be, and I find it a bit harder to focus, what would you suggest?”

He nodded at her request, happy to help and even happier to learn more, these tests of his knowledge were common, although she wouldn’t trust him to try and heal anyone else just yet. Making him flex his mind in order to help her out, however, was perfectly safe as there was little she didn’t know about their indigenous plant life. His dam was getting on in years now, and while her mind was as sharp as ever, her body, particularly her eyesight, was failing her. She was beginning to rely on her son more and more.

“Perhaps a small amount of foxglove?” He considered aloud, mulling over various plant properties in his head, “that can be good to restore strength and energy...Or maybe a tea of Aster Berries? Very weak though, it can make you even more sick, but the berries are about right for picking at the moment...Personally I would prefer Foxglove.”

He looked to his mother for confirmation, although he very rarely failed these simple tests of memory, it was hard wired to check with her before taking any action. She smiled a tired, proud smile, nodding slightly and giving him a poke with her muzzle.

“Not bad, my love, not bad. But you forgot the most important thing… I’m getting old! All I need is more rest, to eat a bit more and walk a bit less. A trick question,I’m afraid, but a healer must also know when to just let a body be. Foxglove at my age could be risky, it can overstimulate the heart and cause chest pain, but a tiny amount steeped in water isn’t too bad an idea.”

“Humph. You’ve got seasons left yet, Mother,” he snorted, uncomfortable with truly facing her age, “especially if your apprentices have anything to do with it. Besides, I haven’t learnt a fraction of what you know yet, and there isn’t anyone else I’d rather learn it from. Óganach will just have to wait a while.”

“Don’t blaspheme dear, he’ll call me when he calls me, and I won’t deny him.” Another shoulder nibble took all sting out her rebuke; although she would never say so, her last and largest son was the closest to her heart. “Come, walk with me and see me settled. The night draws close and I feel the need to have the warmth of my nest around me.”

In companionable silence the two paced slowly together, giving the occasional friendly nod or smile towards the other inhabitants of the glade. They made a strange pair; she tiny, light, lithe and delicate, and he huge, dark and intimidating. However it was easy to see their resemblance as he carried himself in the same graceful way as his dam despite his size, and his face was hers in structure although in much larger proportions.

The evening light dipped from molten gold, to hazy pink and dropped towards the purple of twilight. The delicate song of blackbirds was replaced by the somnolent hoots of the owls as silvery lights began dotting the sky, while the trees below rustled and murmured to one another about the secrets of the day. Twining around their comforting roots, the fawnlings slept, safe and secure beneath the darkened canopy of their living, breathing home.