Birgitta the Nun

Part 36 - The Mission

"That's alright," the wizard said, and put her hat back on. "I do love all the embarrassing things I say and do. I think they are hilarious. But I also suffer—for weeks I can twist and turn incidents around in my head, regretting every word I've said, every gesture I've made. But then, all of a sudden I start laughing, seeing how funny my actions are—really witty. Humor is agony, but I believe it's worth it—or it's just unavoidable."

Charlie paused and smiled at her confession. No one was laughing. All attention was turned to the wizard and her confused hat—even the owl seemed to be listening with all her gravest respect.

"People of course wonder what will become of me," the wizard recommenced, "They're worried about my tragicomic future. But the thing is—I don't want anything to become of me. I want to just be, like a big and solid but obscure status quo. Preferably I'll be alone, but I can share my air with someone if she doesn't bother me too much—

"Look," the wizard sighed, "maybe I can't really explain, but that's alright because who understands derivatives anyway? In relations this means owing your life to someone who just saved you from the flames - these could be actual flames coming from a burning building, or flames of a hot mess that you brought upon yourself. Either way, you'll be grateful. And sooner or later you'll have to thank someone."

"And saying 'thank you' is hard?" the abbess asked.

"Yes, if you don't mean it," the wizard replied. "It's like saying you're sorry when you've just been hit in the face."

"Well—" the abbess started to object.

"So it's easier in the forest you see," the wizard continued, ignoring the opinion of the abbess. "No one can hear or see me fail—only the owl, but she's a tough one. She won't give me a hard time."

"Actually," Birgitta said, taking the opportunity to discuss dear animals, "we're looking for our friend—that's why we sought you out. Someone at the inn mentioned you."

"Oh really," the wizard delighted. "Is there a reputation preceding me? Maybe I am more of a detective than a wizard after all? Or both. The one doesn't rule out the other—"

"Anyway," Birgitta interrupted the wizard, getting too caught up in her own image. "Can you help us? If you know these parts—what can you do?"

"The question is not what I can do, but what WE can do." The wizard was exhilarated and put her arm around her companion - the noble bird - and squeezed it slightly. The owl did seem to mind, but kept still, trying not to interrupt a grand - and therefor rare - moment for its friend. "A staff and a beak is really all you need," the wizard nodded.

"And a hat," the merchant offered.

"And of course a hat," the wizard picked up. Then, again turning to Birgitta, "So who is this friend of yours?"

"The cat," Birgitta replied.

"A cat?" the wizard asked.

"THE cat," Birgitta repeated.

"The cat?" The wizard didn't catch on.

"THE CAT," Birgitta cried. "Don't pretend not to know—you met her and all, at the monastery—THE CAT!"

"Oh—the CAT," the wizard said and finally seemed to recall. "Oh yes, the cheeky little one then, eh? Hmm, I remember it well—" The wizard fell to pondering. Then, she looked up with a start, "Is it still talking—or have you reversed the spell?"

"It's no spell," Birgitta cut off. "I agree she seems magical—she's a bliss. But you know the speech is natural. Not everyone can be a sorcerer."

"Hmm, I'm not sure—" the wizard said. She didn't agree with a talking cat. As it would be, it might as well stand up and start walking on its hind legs - impossible. Cats just don't do that, not even special ones.

"So—will your owl be able to find our cat," Birgitta continued, "without eating it?"

Charlie raised one of her gray eyebrows and replied, "Will your cat be able to be rescued—without eating its savior?"

"Never mind," Birgitta shoved the tip of her shoe into a heap of moss and let the subject go. She would accept any help from these two, she had already decided. No need to take the trouble to discuss the matter—as if a narcissistic wizard and a boastful bird would understand.

The owl let out a wheezing sound, as if yawning, and the wizard stretched her limbs—

"Maybe we should get some sleep."

"Very well, we have our tent to tend to," the merchant said and got up from her seat. She stared at the darkness surrounding them, "I almost forgot about it."

"Leave the tent," the wizard offered. "Tonight you are my guests." She got up on her feet and spread her arms before the pretty little camp. Then, grabbing a branch, she showed her guests how to climb a nearby tree, to reach the nest.