Harvesting [open]

Breccan moved with sure strides, her bag bouncing rhythmically against one slim hip. She was lightly dressed for the autumn heat that still pervaded Katila in the afternoons, but there was an extra shirt in her bag, long-sleeved, in case the weather turned. Leaving the boundaries of Katila proper and entering the cool shade of the forest was a home-coming. Growing up in Ista meant a nose filled with sea-smells was familiar, but all of her time in Fort, and Journeying across the Northern continent, had given her a sort of nostalgia for forest scents as well. Being surrounded by the smell of warm earth and growing things allowed her soul to swell and expand, relaxed. It was marvelous.

She'd been wanting to come into the forest for a third of the season, to examine the flora and soil, but something had always gotten in the way. She was either doing extra chores in the hope that her work would be noticed or spending all of her time in the little hut that served Katila as a Healing Hall. There were plenty of minor injuries to treat, or there were younger people who wanted to Apprentice, even older ones who wanted the benefit of her herbal knowledge. It was pleasant to dispense the fruits of her study to willing students. She did not particularly care for children, and she was still prone to frustration if they did not grasp what she was teaching them immediately, but there were a few bright apples in the bunch, and she took pleasure in polishing them into competent Healers.

As pleasant as the time was, it still hadn't felt like her own. Finally she was taking time for her, to wander where she pleased and learn the things she had desired to. Her bag was filled with carefully-made smaller bags, intended to allow her to return whatever samples she took and hopefully find a place to plant them nearer to Katila. Numbweed in particular she intended to find, and fellis. There were few enough of those resources near the Weyr; it could not hurt to have them closer. If she could manage it, she'd also search for needlethorn and featherfern, just to ensure she could identify those here in the South.

Breccan covered ground swiftly, her knowledgeable eyes easily cataloguing plants she knew. She was surprised at the size of most of them, far out-stripping their Northern cousins. Echlerov must have been right about the soil here being superior to that in the North. The climate, too, was much better. She wondered why the Northern continent had been settled instead of the Southern. Perhaps the earliest Pernese had loved snow and ice. She made a face. Not for her.

She stooped to collect featherfern, just as she'd hoped. A sharp knife easily made a cutting from the rhizome at its base, and the soil was loose and loamy, easy to place in a bag. A system of knots identified the packet as featherfern for herself, and she moved on. Fellis she nearly gave up on; she simply hadn't been prepared for the sheer size of the trunks she saw, far too big for her to put her arms around. It wasn't easy to get high enough for a cutting, but she managed it, sliding to the ground with no regard for her bare legs. As she brushed bark off of herself, she noted the long scrapes, but quickly dismissed them as superficial. She wasn't confident of rooting tree cuttings -it had seemed a chancy thing at best to her- but there was no point in not trying, and having a fellis tree growing right by the Healer Hall could make a difference.

Soon enough she found herself at the man-made river, which Southern plant life had apparently been happy to colonize. As she harvested tufts of grass seed and the thick heart that was so good for firehead, she was humming. Really, it wasn't so hard to be content here. If this could be her life, this free wandering in the forest, this collecting of all the things she knew so much about, well, that would not be so bad. She ignored that revelation and simply continued to hum. She wasn't here to over-think things. Breccan waded partially into the river, enjoying the cool touch of water on her ankles and the silty earth squelching beneath her. A particularly sturdy bundle of grasses was resisting her efforts, but she was happy to hack away at the woody stalks, humming all the while.

Shiriva was in the middle of her own kind of harvest. It was similar to what Breccan was doing, but rather than those plants that could specifically heal or have some use when applied to a human or dragon, Shiriva was far more interested in what shade of color the plant could cast upon a length of cloth. She had a young Chase strapped to her back, the youngster the only reason she had been allowed off of the Candidate Isle those couple of years ago. If he had not been there, needing the care she could only provide while supported by a Weyr, she never would have promised to stay in the South. But as it was, she had no idea how to care for a child while wandering unfamiliar lands and fighting to get home at the same time. But he was getting older. And so was she. Oh, she knew she would still have numerous chances to Impress, but when the time came, and she still hadn't...

No! She wasn't going to think like that! These people had uprooted her from her life in the North and she was not going to allow them to waste that time for her! She would Impress. And that was final! And she'd raise her son up to be a little man-whore so they could have as many little babies as they wanted from her gene-pool and maybe then they'd leave her alone about this whole 'breeding' non-sense. She had heard told that whomever higher up would prefer the women have more than one child. Well, as far as she was concerned, the Weyr would just hafta deal with her only having one. She couldn't even imagine bringing a poor girl into a world like this one.

It was these thoughts that fueled her meager strength enough to rip some brightly colored leaves off a thick trunk of some kind of plant she couldn't name. She imagined her sharding lumberjack chores were perhaps adding to her muscle strength a bit. She was little more than useless in these woods, struggling to keep up with the stronger men or even the dragons who were enlisted in bringing down the heavy trunks of the massive trees in this area. But she was doing her best. It wasn't her fault she was given a chore completely not suited for her in any way.

A squeal from behind her let her know that Chase was awake and had found something interesting. She sighed, a grin on her face as she reached back to undo the harness holding him to her back. He still had something like a long leash about his waist so he couldn't run off on her, but it gave him the chance to toddle about on his own so he wouldn't get bored. She watched to see what the youngster's eyes had found to make him so cheery. It was a large grouping of some bright yellow colored flowering plants. "Hmm..." Shiriva hummed in interest, kneeling down among them with Chase to pick at the petals more delicately than the child was able. "Good eye, M'Darling. These will make something quite pretty."

It pleased her to know that Chase had acquired her eye for brightness and beauty. It made it quite helpful. He liked pointing things out she might have missed. And he was still so young! Well, young enough she still had to keep him attached to her. The boy was getting on, what? Three, four turns now? And still he refused to talk much. Oh, she knew he was fully capable of extensive, complete and understandable sentences. But she believed he had inherited her temper as well, and if he could tell his mother was displeased, then so was he! Which meant he was displeased with most people most of the time, much like she was.

She'd try to weasel that out of him at a later date. When he was old enough to make friends on his own.

They were nearing the man-made river that Shiriva knew was around here somewhere when she pulled up short, looking over the trunk of what she thought might be a fellis tree, though she had never really cared much. She wanted as little to do with fellis as she could. But those were fresh marks on the trunk. She squinted up the plant, lips pursing in thought when she felt a tug on her trousers. "Momma..." Chase mumbled quietly pointing toward the waters. That's when Shiriva first saw and then heard the other woman humming along, hacking at some water grasses in the flowing waters. She sighed, glaring, trying to decide whether to join the woman or just go in a different direction.

A quick glance down at Chase told her what she needed to do. The boy had that same displeased look on his face that his mother often had. That wouldn't serve any good purposes at all. So she reached down, taking his hand and began to move toward the water, pausing at the edge to roll Chase's pants legs up so he could wade in the water as well. "Greetings!" Shiriva called, bending to roll her own pants laegs up so she could stick her toes in the water, leaving her boots at the edge. "So, I'm not the only one out here hunting plants, huh?" she asked the humming woman, wincing a bit at how forced her voice sounded, even to her.

Breccan knew that being unaware of one's surroundings out here was a grave mistake, and not one she intended to make. The low murmur of someone's voice off in the underbrush caught her ear, but not her interest. If there were other people around, there probably were fewer felines or wherries or Faranth-knew-what roaming in search of a meal. There were a few ways of escaping Katila that didn't appeal to her, and being consumed by some beast was most certainly one of them.

She suspected whoever it was would be about their business and leave her to hers, which suited her just fine. She wasn't the type to love dropping everything for the sake of conversation, and she was enjoying her work. She did stop humming, which was only polite if someone was nearby. It wasn't just her desire to be a Healer that had kept her from Harper Hall. The grass had finally given in, and she twined it into a neat bundle, a moment's further work securing it to her bag. She was newly interested in basket-making, since she hardly had the coin to buy any furnishings. Once she Impressed, she'd like to personalize whatever ramshackle hut was to be hers. There was no shortage of uses for containers, and a former Weaver had pointed out she might make a profit, even, if she became skilled. By the man's description, this had been the right variety of grass.

She had nearly forgotten her company as she worked, and her humming had unconsciously resumed, when she heard a greeting called. Her movements paused for a moment, a strangled sigh rustling the feathery grass tufts. The woman could hardly be talking to anyone else. Turning, she schooled her features into polite interest, if not overt friendliness. She saw little point in pretending to be overjoyed to see someone else out here. Arming sweat from her brow, she surveyed her 'guests.' A woman, perhaps her age, perhaps a little younger, was rolling up her pants, a small boy in tow. She soon straightened and spoke, and Breccan's sharp ears had no trouble catching the forced friendliness in her tone, which puzzled her. If she hadn't wanted company, why had she interrupted Breccan?

"Apparently not," she answered, tone level, trying not to be completely unfriendly, "Are you looking for anything specific?" That was a generous enough offer, to her way of thinking. Her grey eyes roamed across the few specimens she could see, but she gleaned little enough information from it. Largely flowers, it looked like, but not harvested whole. She must not intend them for ornamental use. Dyes, perhaps? Certainly those yellow ones had no practical uses Breccan was aware of.

Her eyes wandered down, towards the boy. Probably four, she decided, though she'd never been good at aging children. They were too individual in how they grew. This one was cute enough, but she had no idea how to behave around children. It was probably rude to ignore him and speak only to his mother, but she had no interest in babbling nonsense at him like so many adults did. She had been small as a child, and remembered enduring that patronizing attention longer than was appropriate. Instead of speaking, she settled on a small smile, acknowledging his presence but little more than that. Probably that was socially incorrect, but she could hardly do better. Ugh, kids. They were so...different.

The burbling of the river was a little distracting, and Breccan moved a few steps closer to the woman, back towards the bank proper. If she was going to have a conversation, she'd need to be able to hear it.