The Tree's Heart

V

The next day, Clover was woken up by Willow pottering in the kitchen. Clover had no idea what Willow was doing. Pooka had disappeared during the night and Willow didn't seem to have much of an idea where she went. She didn't seem to care too much, either. Clover rubbed her eyes and sat up, exchanging some meaningless small talk with Willow, before getting dressed in the same skirt and blouse again.

"Since you're awake, you can go and collect some ingredients. I'll tell you what we need and where to go, just give me a bit of time to get this ready." Willow said, gesturing towards the mortar and pestle she was holding. It looked like she was grinding up some herbs for whatever reason. There were many teas and ointments and other concoctions that Willow kept preparing all the time and Clover could only guess as to what they were good for. Surely, Willow had her reasons. She had survived out here for a long time, so Clover figured that she knew what she was doing. Her ankle felt much better, after all.

"Sure. I can't promise I'll be any good at collecting herbs, though." Clover said to her. Willow chuckled and shook her head.

"You'll learn. It'll take some time, but you'll get there. Either way, I want you to collect some berries. There are bushes if you head towards the river. I'll show you what direction that is. I'll need the basket that's under the table filled to equal parts with three kinds of berries. I'll show you what they look like, too. Make sure not to take all the berries from one bush, though. Always leave about two thirds of the berries. Alright?"

"Yeah, sure. Do I need to do some weird rituals, too?" Clover asked her. Willow shook her head with a serious look.

"No, I'll take care of that when you're back. No need for you to worry about it." she answered before heading up the stairs and returning with an old leatherbound notebook. She leafed through it and opened it to a page that showed the three kinds of berries they needed. Clover did her best to commit them to her memory, before Willow sent her off in the direction she had to go. Clover wasn't sure whether she'd be successful or whether she would get lost again, but since Willow had managed to find her the other day, she wasn't too worried. It took her only about twenty minutes of walking until she came to an area that had lots of bushes that were full of the berries she needed. Clover figured that this would be easy.

It would have been even easier if she was allowed to take more than a third of the berries, but she figured it was probably better to stick to Willow's instructions. Either way, it wasn't going to take her long to get the berries together. The only difficulty was that the bushes were incredibly thorny. After plucking a few of the berries, Clover could already see that her hands were incredibly scratched with tiny prick wounds.

But she kept going, despite the pain. Plucking berries was a task that she could lose herself in. She barely realised the time passing because she was so engrossed in what she was doing. Clover never would have thought that picking berries would bring her so much joy one day. Sure, the pain was annoying, but it was something that she could cope with easily. She just blocked out anything else that was around her.

That was probably why she didn't hear the footsteps approaching as she was plucking the berries. She only noticed that she wasn't alone when she was moving onto another bush and she could see something quickly moving behind a tree, hiding. She hadn't gotten a clear view of who or what that was, and she remembered all of Willow's warnings. It made her feel uneasy. Clover wasn't sure if she should just carry on or whether she should make her way back to the cabin. She didn't know if she should try to talk to whoever was hiding behind the tree. What if she made some mistake and had to stay here forever?

As she was watching the tree, she could see a head poking out from behind it. Except, it wasn't a strictly human head. It was a man's face, with big brown eyes, long dark curls flowing down his neck and a goatee that had grown long at his chin. And on his head were two curled horns. Clover wasn't sure what to make of it. He seemed somewhat shy, as if he was as scared of her as she was of him. But he also looked curious.