Chapter 26 Ginger
Ginger
Itapped my quill against my journal impatiently.
My muscles thrummed with pent up energy. They begged for relief, ached to be worn down.
I gave up on my writing—the dragon journal could wait.
I donned a pair of soft trousers and layered on two sweaters—enough to keep me warm in the cold air of the fading freeze season but not heavy enough to smother me when my blood started pumping through my veins.
“I’m going running, Bram. Care to join me?”
The dragon simply stared at me for a moment before closing his eyes and exhaling in a puff.
“Suit yourself, lazy bones. You’re missing out on a fun time.”
His tail flicked dismissively. Rude little beast. I kissed him on the forehead and tucked him into bed.
Leaving my cloak behind, I slipped out of my cottage, locking the door behind me and tucking the key into the waistband of my trousers.
I stretched my stiff legs for a moment, taking care to tug on the muscles. I didn’t want to hurt myself.
And then I took off at a brisk jog. The wind whipped my loose hair around my face, tangled it in my antlers.
I ran a lap around town first. I waved at a few folk, stopped to chat once or twice.
The restless sensation persisted.
A piece of parchment on top of one of the old mailboxes caught my attention as I made my way toward the woods to extend my route.
My curiosity got the better of me. I came to a halt beside the mailbox and grabbed the parchment.
It was a flier, clearly placed there intentionally. It hadn’t blown away yet, so it had to be new. I looked around to see where it had come from.
A boy dressed in strange clothing was walking around, handing out slips of parchment to everyone he passed. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old, not yet an adult.
I jogged over to him. “What’s this?” I asked.
“A warning, miss,” he said gravely. “From His Majesty the King.”
“A warning?” I examined the parchment in my grasp, taking a moment to skim the text.
To Any and All Folk of Aldova,
Beware.
Magic is not the only thing that has returned to our realm.
Dangerous, powerful beings have also returned. Beings long since thought gone.
Be careful.
These beings seem like normal folk, but they are deadly. They are ruthless.
If you see one, do not approach—they may kill without provocation.
They have no regard for mortal life, no care for any of us.
If you come across one of these powerful beings, contain the threat, if possible, and inform my men.
I will extinguish the danger and keep the realm safe.
Things to look out for:
Folk with curiously strong magical power
Folk committing nefarious deeds
Unexplained magical outbursts
Folk that feel dangerous and powerful
Any neighbors acting suspicious—it is better to be safe than sorry
Be vigilant.
Any effort to aid these dangerous, powerful beings will result in swift, thorough punishment.
—A Royal Missive from His Majesty the King.
Itilted my head, confused. “Is this a joke?” I asked.
Dangerous, powerful beings arriving in the realm? That sounded more like the plot of a novel than reality.
I thought briefly of Shade. His sudden appearance on Merry Day. But strangers arrived in Moonvale all the time, and that was nothing new. Besides—Shade wasn’t dangerous or powerful. He hadn’t harmed anyone, as far as I knew. He just kept to himself, when he wasn’t bothering me.
“It is not a joke, ma’am. This is a grave situation.” The boy was pale in the face, trembling slightly. “The King has dispatched messengers across the entire realm, warning of the incoming evil. It must be dealt with before it destroys us all.”
That was rather dramatic. I supposed I wasn’t the only one with intense paranoia. Strangely enough, that made me feel a bit better. I folded the parchment and tucked it into the pocket in my trousers. “Thanks for the warning.”
“Be safe, miss. Remember: your life is on the line.”
Poor boy. He was even more paranoid than I was. “Sure. Of course. Good day.”
I glanced around to see other folk reading the missives. Some looked worried. Some disregarded the warning completely. And some looked downright terrified.
I shook my head. Paranoia was running rampant.
This whole situation was a mess.
I resumed my jog, headed toward the woods for some peace and quiet.
Breath sawed in and out of my lungs in a hurried rhythm timed with the pumping of my legs.
Inhale, four paces. Exhale, four paces.
Sweat slicked my skin despite the chill—I was glad for my earlier decision to forgo a cloak.
Leaves crunched beneath me, trampled into the forest floor. I typically stayed on the commonly trodden paths when I ran through the woods, but I occasionally veered further, striking new paths.
Today was one of those days.
The forest was like another home to me, as familiar as my own skin.
Squirrels scurried along tree branches to their nests, startled by the rhythmic thumping of my approach, but they didn’t go far. They were used to my presence.
This was my favorite part about the departure of the freeze season—the approach of the mild season meant I could spend more time out running, exploring, breathing fresh air. And the critters did, too.
A flash from the corner of my eye caught my attention.
It was bright, red and spotted, a glaring omen in the usually green and brown forest.
I veered off course to approach it, slowing to a walk.
The foliage was denser here.
I climbed over fallen logs and pulled my hooves out of muddy puddles. Sticks grabbed at me, snagged my hair, tugged my clothes.
I kept pushing toward that spot of red in the distance.
The treasure came into focus—a cluster of perfect, round mushrooms.
They were red and glossy, dotted with yellow spots. Their stems were hardly visible below the span of their tops. About ten of them sat, untouched, a perfect specimen. They formed a haphazard circle.
Glee lit up my stomach.
Kizzi would love these.
I spent plenty of time in the forest, sure, but I wasn't as familiar with plant life as Lunette, the druid who owned the plant shop, or even Kizzi. I didn’t recognize the mushrooms, but I was fairly sure they were safe.
There were no poisonous mushrooms in the forests near Moonvale—those typically sprouted in warmer or more mountainous climates.
Kizzi was a huge fan of mushrooms—she used them in all sorts of magical concoctions.
But I was no expert.
I had to grab them for her. I searched my surroundings for something to put the mushrooms in.
I’d left my satchel and my cloak at home to avoid their bouncing while I ran, so those weren’t many options.
Any nearby leaves were dead and dried, and I didn’t have time to cobble them into anything resembling a platter.
I glanced down.
I’d almost forgotten I was wearing two sweaters.
Kizzi better rejoice about these mushrooms.
I stripped out of my outer layer, leaving me in my sweat-soaked under layer. It wasn’t a beautiful sight, but it would do.
I twisted the sweater into a makeshift satchel, gently tying the sleeves up like a handle and using the torso as the cradle.
And then I considered the situation. Should I collect the mushrooms with my bare hands?
Would that taint them, in some way? I glanced at my fingers contemplatively.
What if I only touched them for a moment?
That would probably be fine. It wasn’t like I would be carrying them all the way back to town with my bare hands.
As quickly as possible, I plucked the first mushroom.
The stem was more solid than I expected it to be—more like the woody stem of a rose bush than a delicate piece of sponge.
But it tore off easily enough. I set the mushroom in the sweater-pouch.
A branch snapped somewhere to my right. I paused to listen, my ears snapping to attention.
Sounds in the forest weren’t uncommon, but creatures of the forest were usually stealthier than that.
When no other sounds followed, I resumed my gathering.
I plucked another mushroom. And then another. My fingertips turned a strange pink color, and I wiped them off on my trousers.
A wave of warmth heated my already flushed skin, and dizziness tugged at me.
I must have been running harder than I thought.
I swiped my hand over my forehead to collect the dripping sweat and keep it out of my eyes.
Gods, I was really sweaty.
The cold evening air didn’t do enough to cool me, so I shoved my sleeves up, exposing my forearms.
It was incrementally better.
I glanced around to notice the dual suns were near to slipping over the horizon—I hadn’t even noticed the time passing.
I needed to get home. Brambleby would be expecting dinner.
I hoisted the makeshift mushroom bag onto my shoulder and began the treacherous journey back to the trail. I clumsily climbed over a fallen log, nearly stumbling in the process.
Something heavy dropped to the ground somewhere behind me.
Leaves rustled.
Branches snapped.
A low rumble echoed in my alert ears.
My heart thudded sluggishly in my chest. I fought to pull enough air in.
Something was following me. Something big.
I glanced over my shoulder, prepared to face my death.
A dark mass was closing in.
I bolted.
I ran like my life depended on it.
“Help!” I screamed, but the words came out garbled. Distorted. It didn’t even sound like my own voice.
My ears were ringing. When did my ears start ringing?
The monster closed in.
I pushed my legs harder, faster, pumping my arms wildly.
My legs refused to listen.
As I darted around a tree to shake the monster from my trail, my hooves slipped on the muddy ground, flying out from under me.
My head smacked the ground with a resounding thwack.
A bright red mushroom rolled on the ground in front of my eyes.
And then I saw nothing at all.