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The gossip was unavoidable, even for a doe like Iaune.

Who in the Homewood could stay quiet about it? The old, steadfast Grandfather Tree suddenly brimming with even more inexplicable power - it had to be a sign of something big. All Iaune's neighbors wanted to do, now, was talk about it. It was so mysterious, and so powerful, after all.

It was a little bit ridiculous. The Grandfather Tree had always been benevolent to noul society, and there really was nothing any one noulicorn could do if that changed. As far as anyone knew, it was the very thing that'd furnished them with the gifts that allowed nouls to change Vykeli. If anything could take them back it was the tree - and the fact that it now seemed flush with power was probably a good thing.

Iaune didn't bother to say any of this, though. They'd always thought it was important to speak by doing, and they had been attempting, at least, to continue working as they always had done. They were no filly anymore, and they'd already made several treks out to the Barrens and returned just the same every time. They had responsibilities, even without a Gift.

Not everyone saw it the same way, though. There had been so many precautions, lately, passed through the Homewood from idle tongue to idle tongue. Approach the tree slowly, carefully. Travel with a friend. Young nouls should wait for the danger to pass, before resuming their - still necessary - trips through the Barrens to the tree.

Well, Iaune was no young noul. They didn't really have a specific desire to visit the tree, either, but they did want the fuss to be over. "Come," they said, the next time their neighbor - an apprentice doe who used Atmos - brought it up, and they made for the Barrens without glancing back to see whether she'd follow.

They were not ordinarily so impulsive, but it felt right - and they'd spent days already, tired of hearing this sort of discussion. Anyway, an Atmos user was the best sort of companion in the Barrens, even with minimal preparations, and they made it to the tree safely.

It loomed, as it always did. Iaune could see the newly-budded leaves, though. A sign of spring...or just of magic. They knew what they believed, and something unfamiliar resonated in their chest, like they were right to think so, and right to come here.

Iaune did not approach the tree cautiously, though they were no runner. They meandered through the roots as though it was another daily meditation, a calm wanderer one step, and the next...


--

Waking up in the early morning back home should have felt strange to Iaune. What they last remembered, after all, was making their way to the Grandfather Tree, keeping their eyes on the sparse blooms budding on its far branches to learn what the change had wrought.

It didn't. The Grandfather Tree had its ways, after all, and perhaps the new foliage meant that it had a mysterious new power to put Iaune where it wanted them.

Well, who knew, after all? For all that it'd always been here, no one knew very much about it.

It was fine, though. The Grandfather Tree didn't want to hurt Vykeli and its inhabitants: that much was obvious. Iaune stepped out of the hefty fallen log that served as their home shelter, taking care not to disturb the dense layers of moss and stubborn vines that covered its outside. Sure, their presence made Iaune's home smell musty and strange, but to Iaune, that scent meant new life taking root. And this was routine, to them, so it was easy to get their slender limbs outside, and to begin their typical survey of the area nearby. They kept to the worn paths, out of respect for the nouls and others who lived around them, and remembered where it looked like life might have been disturbed.

Honestly, there wasn't much danger in the heart of Homewood. Strong winds, sometimes. A dire rat or two who made their way past the teams of nouls who might patrol the border of the Homewood. But Iaune was nothing if not thorough, and the routine of it calmed them: seeing and recognizing their environs, and knowing they were home.

They were an early riser, but so were the nouls and familiars who lived nearby. Iaune made a bow of greeting as each one passed, letting that feeling of recognition settle them. Their features were strangely unmemorable this morning, but that was just a passing thought: Iaune was home, and clearly feeling out of it from whatever strange experience they'd had with the Grandfather Tree. Otherwise, the only break from their routine was when they completed their circuit and made their way back home. A noulicorn was waiting in their home clearing, shifting anxiously from hoof to hoof. Iaune's eyes dropped to watch the heft of their belly and let a little smile curl onto their lips. "Well met, and good morning," they said, keeping their tone pleasant but even.

Their neighbor - a buck, though every time Iaune looked at him and let their gaze slide away again he looked a little different - shook out his mane. "You like strange things," he answered.

This was true, so Iaune inclined their head without raising an objection. The nervous flicks of their neighbor's tail brought their previous interactions to mind: this noul, Iaune was certain, was a gardener, who raised plants to provide for the sorts of busy noul who spent too much time out working to heal Vykeli to do much of their own gardening. It was strange that Iaune couldn't quite recall his name right now - but it'd come to them, in time. Things always did.

"It's my garden," he said, turning on his tail to make his way toward his home at a quick trot. "I've been having...trouble with it, and I know you don't have a gift, yet, but your familiarity with strange phenomena could help." There was only so much a single botanic user could do for an entire garden, anyway: gifts were miraculous, but not all-powerful.

Iaune followed silently and somewhat more sedately, gently smoothing over his heavy, nervous hoofprints as they went. There was no need to disturb the homes of any insects who might live underfoot - at least, not more than necessary. The journey to his home was a quick one, and as it was revealed, Iaune found themself nodding. Yes, they knew that little patch of ranunculus which served as a signpost; yes, the gentle slope of that oak was a familiar one. Yet they turned away and the details faded into a fuzzy note of familiarity: this was a neighbor, and Iaune was here to help him, anyway.

He had a few gardens, apparently, to separate his various crops from each other, since each one required a different sort of care. He was an organized fellow, and it was easy for Iaune to step through them to see what he meant. The sad flowers with their wrinkled and wilted petals, the vegetables which remained buds long after the crops a little farther afield had grown...

Losing these crops would be a hardship. Not for Iaune's neighbor, of course: he had more crops, far more than just one noul, or even one family, could consume. But there were other nouls who depended on his steady work, so that they could focus on other tasks. Iaune took a breath and went to work.

Someone else might have asked how he was treating these crops. For Iaune, that didn't make sense; gardening was his specialty, and clearly he'd spent many seasons coaxing fruit from these fields. They could trust without hesitation that he knew what he was doing. He probably didn't expect for them to tear those flowers out by the root, though, and when they began to do so - methodical, careful not to disturb too much as they went - he voiced his concern immediately.

"They're already dying," Iaune murmured, meeting his gaze evenly. "A Botanic user could revive one, and then another the next day - but you have a whole field." Unspoken: that was why he'd asked for Iaune's help, wasn't it? "As noulicorns, we're healers of Vykeli, but it's not our task to do the impossible. Some day, every being will come to its end, and the best we can do is let it pass peacefully, and let its bygone efforts help those of us who live on." They paused, turning their head. The next part of their speech could be a nagging lecture in the wrong mouth. "Besides, while your garden is lovely, the Homewood's soil derives its vitality from variety. If these plants feed those ones, the rest will be healthier than ever, and once your soils have lain fallow for a season or two, they'll recover their nutrients enough to bring new plants to life."

They smiled again, trying to offer comfort - but they did not linger idly for long. He had no more objections, and the field was large, so there was no point in discussing the decision now that it'd been made. Iaune was no stranger to toil, and they certainly welcomed the company, when he eventually joined in.

Funny. They hadn't walked through this field on their circuit this morning, and yet they still remembered the way this field had been struggling for the past few seasons. Perhaps Iaune's mind had been wandering, though. Just like it was now - but who cared, if it wandered? All they had to do was keep going down each neat row, stacking plant by plant.

Such was the way of Homewood. There was always work to be done.

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