Starbasin

Gurin tried to run but his legs refused to move. First, an owl had carried away that maverick he was talking to, and now a weasel was slowly walking toward him. The smell of drowned fur and death slowly drifted in front of the predator. He wasn’t currently wearing a rabbit skin, but he had before. He had hints of rabbit on him, the scent of the maverick. Gurin’s vision began to blur as the panic fed itself.

The weasel was saying something. He waved a paw in front of Gurin. “Hey, stay with us. Don’t pass out.”

“No!” Gurin shouted. “No drowning me and wearing my skin!”

That time, Mune did cuff him. “Stop that! This is Eitan, and well, he’s not a threat. I think. I’m not sure what happens without Rhizo here.”

“It’s okay,” Eitan said. “I said some fairly ridiculous things to Rhizo when we first met. Gurin, I’m not going to hurt you. No tricks. I am not going to drown you. If I smell like wet fur, it’s because I almost drowned.”

Gurin was a little surprised at how soothing the weasel’s words were. He winced but didn’t run away. “I’m sorry. I haven’t seen someone die in front of me before. I know the owl wasn’t you.”

Eitan shook his head and skittered over to where the maverick was taken. He sniffed the ground carefully. “There’s no blood. Whatever the bird wanted, it didn’t hurt Rhizo. Assuming the shock of flying doesn’t kill him, and I suspect it won’t. You both got a closer look at it than I did.”

Mune said, “Probably hatched last year. I think it was a female, but that’s just an impression. It wasn’t touching the ground long enough for me to get a proper read. Although, why would it speak Lapine? Especially just to apologize.”

“Wait, you heard that too?” Gurin asked. It slowly occurred to him the weasel was also speaking Lapine, and the conversation wasn’t in his head, but real. “I thought, maybe it was a hallucination.”

“It was definitely real.” Eitan sniffed the ground more. “I can’t track through the air. Do you know any owls in the area? They’d know their own territories.”

“No.” Gurin whimpered. He didn’t want to face danger. He didn’t want to track down an owl. “No. No. No. I’m not part of this. I’m not going with you. I am going to tell you how to find him, I’m going to be here for Heather. I’m an herbalist, and not a particularly good one. Warren herbalist. That’s it.”

“Gurin!” Mune insisted. “Hey! Stay with us. What do you know?”

Gurin looked at the seer, a friend he grew up alongside. He looked at the weasel, and wasn’t sure if the predator could be safe. He took a breath to calm himself. It didn’t help. “Taran. There’s an owl who trades herbs in the forest nearby. I met him once, in my early training. I don’t have a sensitive enough nose to make the really rare herbs and that’s all he deals with.”

“We don’t know how long that owl intends to keep Rhizo alive.” Eitan shivered. “We have to go now. Lead the way.”

Gurin flattened his ears. “What makes you think I’m going with you?”

The weasel shrugged. “You want to save someone? This is a first step. I’ll do the talking, you just need to get us there.”

Gurin flattened his ears against his head. He didn’t want to go, but he was the one who knew the way. Why would he risk his life? Should he risk it?

By the time Lord Sun had fully risen and was nearing his peak for the day, the two rabbits and a weasel were deep into the forest. Gurin had grabbed his backpack, a strange sack woven out of dried grass, before they left.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Gurin complained.

“You?” Mune countered, “I can’t believe I talked you into it either.”

“To be fair, Rhizo did save your life. Sorta. Maybe mine. Well, he definitely saved me from drowning, so one and a half times. At least two times between us,” Eitan said.

Gurin grumbled. He wasn’t used to rushing through the woods. And, he wasn’t completely sure he remembered where Taran’s trading stump was. What would happen if the owl wasn’t even there? “I’m more concerned with the owl deciding we don’t have enough to offer and eating me. We’re going to wake up an owl in the middle of the day, and I don’t have any herbs that will do more than beg him not to kill us. He’s not going to be impressed with Pepperpuff and the anti-drowning thyme mixture. How many times is he going to almost drown? Or care about someone who has?”

“Can you promise to make him something later?” Eitan asked.

“No. I don’t have a sensitive enough nose to make anything he’d want.” Gurin sighed. “I basically failed my apprenticeship. I’m lucky Hazelford has such a need for lung herbs. Do you have any idea how many rabbits fall in that stream every Spring? Jumping across is one of their signature escape routes.”

Gurin silently cursed his nose. The weasel had smelled wet, but that was just his imagination. The same was true of his herbs. Extra smells that weren’t there. Imaginings. They muddied the herbs he tried to make. So, he could only make the simplest, the ones that allowed him to use the whole plant, instead of identifying the most potent parts. It was what he could do. There was nothing more that could be done.

The darker thoughts were interrupted as they approached their destination. A small clearing in the forest that once ringed a single tree. With a grand canopy that must have dwarfed the surrounding trees, the huge trunk had snapped in some ancient storm.

The stump stood tall, still too high to jump even though its relationship to the forest was reversed. Perched among the bent and twisted wood that made up the top was a large round owl-nest, protected from above by jagged spikes of wood and from below by the sheer height.

The remains of the upper tree lay on the ground at a slight incline. The travelers climbed it, up a broken branch, then along the trunk to the higher end, a round-ish platform close enough to call to the single opening in the nest.

Gurin paused before fully hopping onto the top. “Are you sure we can’t wait until dark? He’ll be in a better mood. I don’t have enough herbs to convince him we’re not better as food.”

Eitan shook his head. “It has to be now. We don’t have enough time. If you want to wait, it’ll be the backup plan if he eats me.”

“No,” Mune said. “Our best hope is to be interesting. We need him curious.”

Gurin whimpered. The platform was too high up. It might be possible to jump down, but there was no real place to hide if Taran didn’t want to talk. He shrugged off his backpack and rummaged through it. Only one herb, which clearly had spoiled, smelled bright. Reluctantly, he pulled it out, and took the time to make sure whatever rot it had hadn’t infected the rest of his stash.

Mune looked over in confusion. Maybe the herb was the wrong kind of fragrant. Gurin settled, and tried not to sulk.

Eitan moved to the center, where a single rock had been placed to make one part the highest. In Lapine, he shouted, “Taran! I must speak with you!”

Gurin tried not to cower, but his heart beat in his ears. His fear had progressed to his limbs; they felt tingly and sluggish. Mune tensed, ready to bolt, but chose to observe.

Eitan shouted again. “Taran! We must speak! Please.”

Slowly a head with dark textured feathers emerged from the nest. Framed by the brows of a great horned owl, large eyes blinked in the midday light. A voice called, a cry that pierced the distance. “You have until my eyes adjust to explain yourself.”

“Great owl Taran, I stand before you because a rabbit called Rhizome was taken by an owl. Surely one such as you would know all your rivals.”

“Why do you care if an owl stole your meal?” Taran huffed. “Begone.”

Eitan grunted. “The rabbit was taken without blood. He is not my prey. His life must be protected.”

The owl’s eyes started to focus. No longer twitching in the light, they looked at the group on the fallen trunk. “Your time grows short, I can see your shapes.” He clicked his beak. “Tell me, what is this rabbit worth?”

Eitan took a breath and sighed. “I was tasked by Death to make sure Rhizome lives. He was chosen by Fate.”

With a flurry of feathers, Taran emerged from his nest and landed on the platform. His wings spread in a gesture of intimidation, eyes fixed on the weasel, talons and beak ready to strike. “You don’t believe that. Do you expect me to believe you’re talking in Lapine for their benefit? Take your slaves and go!”

Eitan dropped on his stomach. “I live or die as Rhizome wishes. If he is alive, I must find him.” The weasel shuddered, and forced himself to roll onto his side, exposing his throat and belly.

“He is not your slave; you are his?” Taran lowered his wings, and turned from Eitan. He looked to the rabbits. “The weasel believes his words. What of you two?”

Gurin let out a squeak, his throat refusing to talk under the owl’s gaze.

Mune managed to get out, “Eitan almost drowned in a stream last night. Rhizo dragged the weasel to shore himself and insisted we revive him.” He paused for a moment and added, “As for me, Rhizo changed a vision I had. I was supposed to die and he changed the future.”

Taran glared at the seer, but moved on, inscrutable. His gaze settled on Gurin. The attention was palpable, Gurin fought against the urge to give in to the panic.

“I know you,” Taran said. “Your mentor is the reason I trade in herbs. Alvis thought you had potential.”

Gurin choked on the panic, and shuddered. He thought of Heather. He was fighting to not be with her, to give her the rabbit she wanted instead of settling for him. Instead of settling for an herbalist with a lying nose. He closed his eyes, and sniffed Taran. He couldn’t tell what the owl was thinking. Even if he did know what a bird’s emotions smelled like, he could only smell… respect. The respect he wished Heather would have for him.

Gurin sat up and met the gaze. He ignored the way his limbs hurt and the way his heart threatened to burst. He took another breath and wheezed, “Rhizome asked me to give my life so that the mate of the doe I love will live. I am— I am worthy.”

Taran caught Gurin as the herbalist collapsed. He set the rabbit gently down. The owl looked at the spoiled herb and clicked his beak. He picked it up and held the ball of rotting ammonia near Gurin’s nose.

Gurin gasped and coughed at the scent, awareness returning.

“A warren rabbit stood up to me because this Rhizome inspired him.” Taran clicked his beak. “Very well. You have your audience. As for what owl might have taken a rabbit alive, I can only think of one.”