[SRP] The Ghostberry Glade, Part 2 (Martyn, Hadiza)

[Geyser Eelborn]

Martyn had been surprised when his daughter announced that she wanted to go gathering with him. It was nice, don't get him wrong! But it was unexpected. Hadiza had never been interested in herbalism, being far more interested in hunting creatures--bugs, mostly, and birds. He was hoping to teach her to be a different kind of naturalist. She may have been a raptor, but it still didn't sit well with Martyn that his tiny daughter be a predator.

And no, the irony was not lost on him. He was an herbalist, both a healer and a poisoner. He'd slain before. There was blood on his hooves. But one was supposed to want better for their children, right? At least, proper parents were supposed to want better for their children. He may have been a killer, but he didn't want Hadiza to be one. She was supposed to be a light for the future, as all children were. So she should not be a killer. She should be something more than that. And her other father agreed, even if it felt like there was depressingly little Martyn and Kwabena agreed on...

He shook his head. He needed to be alert, looking for herbs. He didn't want to be distracted thinking about his lovelife. He wanted to spend a beautiful, overcast, moody day with his daughter, looking for herbs and berries. He'd taught her how to gather them with her claws, and Milo was helping her out, learning how to manipulate her world with her feet. She was more dexterous than Martyn, and she could jump into low branches that would have broken under Martyn's weight. Very useful for gathering leaves and berries in the trees, though he couldn't help but wince every time she climbed. "Be careful!" he called up to her.

"I'll be fine!" she shouted back. "I just gotta get on another branch!"

Martyn stamped his foot. "That branch can't hold your weight, sweetie, get down from there!"

"Sure it can!"

"Milo!" Martyn hissed.

His friend nodded. "He's right, Hadiza. You're bigger than you were a few moons ago. Please get down from there."

Hadiza turned and looked down at them. "But who's gonna get the leaves Dad needs?!"

"I will," the cat said firmly. "I'm a lot smaller than you, and if I fall I can land on my feet!"

That seemed to do it, and Martyn breathed a sigh of relief as Hadiza jumped down. "I still coulda done it," she grumbled.

"I'd rather you didn't," her father said, nuzzling her face. She was an adult now, but he couldn't help but think of her as a baby still. Her size didn't help--she would always be so much tinier than her fathers.  

[Geyser Eelborn]

Hadiza huffed at her father, but he was adamant that she stay on the ground from there on out. It was so unfair! Milo could climb as high as he liked, but Hadiza had to stay on the ground! Even though the feel of wind in her feathers was a wonderful feeling. She wished she could fly. Not sometimes, but all the time. All the time she wished she could fly, in the air, in the sky. And she knew why. It wasn't just the feathers, there were birds who couldn't fly, and there were other Smalls who had wings and couldn't fly. She didn't think it was that--after all, no one in her family, so far as she knew, was a Small, so she couldn't have inherited it from being small.

"Papa says I belong in the sky, with the Harpies," she said as they stood and watched Milo climbing back down the tree with a sprig of mistletoe held delicately in his mouth. "Climbing trees is the only way I can feel like I'm flying, though."

At her side, Dad tensed. She knew that would happen, it always did when Papa was brought up. He and Papa were in love. That's how she had happened. Papa said that the Great Mother decided to bless them both, but a little mischievous spirit had made her small for some reason. Dad said that it was a star, but the star had been a small one, so she'd been born small. Both of them agreed that it was love that blessed them, and that's what Hadiza was. But Papa was part of a big herd, and he was supposed to make lots of babies for his herd. Dad wanted to be with him, but didn't want to live in the herd, and he didn't like that Papa was making babies with people other than him. It was a source of tension, and why they didn't live together.

"I've told you to be careful," Dad hissed. "I don't want the guards to see you. And you know they're always guarding Papa."

"I am careful. But I love Papa too, and I want to see him more," Hadiza said firmly. "I hate that we can't visit him more."

"The Flock has opinions about stallions," Dad said, glaring at her. "And about Usdia like you. They don't like them."

Hadiza snorted. "That's not what Papa says. He says that Harpy blood outweighs how small I am. Besides, one of the mares has a Small for a father, so it's okay."

Thankfully, Milo interrupted them before they could get any further. "Anything else we were going to go looking for?" he asked, pointedly stepping between them.

Dad gave Hadiza a look that said that this wasn't over, but he turned to Milo. "There's a plant I'd like to check on while we're here," he said. "But I don't know if we're going to be picking it today." Then, with his tail swishing back and forth, he led the way deeper into the woods.

The air was cooler here, and a breeze was starting to blow in the treetops. The ground smelled musty and bitter, like mushrooms, or like mold. The deeper they went, the more fungus they found, toadstools and shelf fungus and all kinds of weird things. She half expected them to be glowing, but maybe it wasn't dark enough for that yet. It was late afternoon, the sun was starting to go down, and it was possible they might be out late enough to see glowing things. She kind of hoped not, though. As cool as that would be, to see it all glowy and stuff, she didn't want to have to go home in the dark. She wasn't scared! She just didn't want to trip over things. Milo could just ride on Dad's back, and Dad's legs were long, but she was short, and sometimes she ran into things that Dad could just step over. With enough light, she'd have warning and she could jump over it...but without the light? Stubbed toes and barked shins, not her idea of fun.

Dad led them into a dark glade full of twisted, gnarled trees. And in the shelter of the roots of one of the trees, Hadiza was surprised to find a faintly glowing, yes, actually glowing, plant. The leaves were ordinary, dark and narrow, but the berries that hung from the plant were glowing faintly blue in the shadows, little clusters of round fruit no bigger than a pebble. Hadiza stepped forward, wanting to get a closer look at the strange berries. What were they? She opened her mouth to ask.  

[Geyser Eelborn]

Martyn put his foot down in front of his daughter before she could get any closer. "These," he said quickly, before she could protest, "are called ghostberries--"

"Because they're spooky?" she asked quickly.

"Y-es," he said, "but also because they are very dangerous. At high doses, they could kill you." He hesitated, shifting his weight from hoof to hoof. "If you can do it carefully, without piercing any of the berries...you can bring me a sprig, please? The biggest sprig of berries. But be careful," he said quickly. He moved his hoof aside. "Please be careful, Hadiza." He nuzzled her and let her go.

He'd been short with her. But he was worried. The Flock worried him, and while he wanted Hadiza to have a relationship with Kwabena--of course he did--he just didn't trust Kwabena's herd. They didn't always have a good reputation, and he didn't want to lose his freedom, or his daughter, forever to them. That's why he forbid her to visit them without Martyn at least knowing where she was and when she was expected back. Kwabena would probably be able to protect her, he was a member of the largest family in the Flock, and surely they wouldn't want to upset his parents or his siblings, but...well...he was a paranoid old fool, and she was his only daughter. Handling a deadly plant seemed safer than picking a fight with mighty warriors.

She had asked to come out here to help him. She'd wanted to spend time with him, and he wanted to encourage that, to hold onto that for as long as he could. Time spent, father and daughter. She was growing up so fast, and while most soquili stayed with their family their whole lives, not all of them did--he was an example of that. He was afraid that she was going to leave him, to go off on her own...and he didn't want that. He didn't want to lose her, not to death and not to another herd. Someday they might have to part ways when she found a mate and started raising a family of her own...but he dreaded that day, and he wanted to hold onto it. And if the price of keeping his tiny family together was to give her a little freedom, and trust her to do a tiny, dangerous thing while staying safe...then he'd pay that price.

Besides, she was careful. She used her claws to brush another bunch away and delicately bit off the stem far away from the berries. He didn't want to take too much from the plant--he had no idea how long the plant would last, if it would die off this year or survive the winter, and while he wanted samples--just in case--he wanted the plant to live, too. He didn't dare take too much, didn't dare damage the plant too much. If it was as dangerous as they said it was, then there was little risk of other animals eating the berries once they left.

Hadiza brought it back to him and put it in their gathering basket carefully, as if laying a young animal in its nest. Then Martyn smiled and nuzzled her, and they turned and set off home in the darkening afternoon.

"So, what are ghostberries for?" Hadiza asked at last. "Other than poison."

"I'm not sure," Martyn admitted. "There are legends about them, though. There's a story about a mare who used the berries to save her stillborn foal. There's another story about a pair of young squirrels that share a berry and have a crazy adventure in a colorful land of talking rocks, only to wake up and realize that they've spent the entire day running around the inside of a dead stump." Martyn helped Hadiza over a fallen log. "Then there are stories about people dying from eating it, or people who saw a dead loved one..." He shrugged. "So I don't know what exactly it does, but everyone agrees it does something. I was planning to experiment with it, to see what happens."

"Oh." Hadiza was quiet for a while, which wasn't really like her. Martyn was about to ask her what was wrong when she spoke again. "Dad...were you going to poison someone with it?"

Martyn blinked and stared at her. "No? No, I wasn't."

"Okay." Her voice was flat, though, and he could tell she wasn't convinced. "So you weren't going to poison the Flock with it?"

"No," Martyn snapped, and to his shock, he realized he was telling the truth. The idea had never even crossed his mind. "Just because I don't trust them doesn't mean I want them dead, Hadiza. I don't trust a lot of things, up to and including those berries. That doesn't mean I want them dead."

"I thought you hated them," his daughter said. She looked him in the eye. "Because Papa picked them over you."

His heart stung at her words, and he had to stop himself from lashing out at her. This was his daughter, and she had every right to question his actions! She may not have known his past, what he'd done before she was born, but she knew him nonetheless. And she was right--it was the sort of thing he would do. Sometimes. To some people. "There are better ways to deal with that sort of thing," he mumbled.

"I know," she snapped. "I know there are better ways to deal with conflicts than killing people! I'm not stupid!"

"I didn't say--!" Martyn stopped, both talking and walking. He took a deep breath. "I didn't say that I thought you were stupid," he said, forcing his voice to be calm. "And I didn't mean to imply that I thought you didn't know that already. I just meant, that I know that just because you wish someone would live with you, doesn't mean that you should kill the people they did choose to live with. Your Papa has a very strong sense of honor and duty to his herd, and I respect that. I don't fully understand it," he admitted. "But I do respect that. If I ever convince Kwabena to live with us, I will use my words, not my herbs. I don't want the Flock dead. I just...don't want to live with them. I got the herbs because I'm curious what they can do to heal people. It's probably just a bunch of old mares' tales, but I'm curious about why there are so many stories about ghostberries. They're rare and they glow, but that can't be all there is to know about them. I'm planning on studying them using frogs or bugs or something. Not soquili, and nothing that's a person, either." He took a deep breath. "Does...that answer your question...?"

Hadiza bit her lip for a few seconds, then finally nodded. "Yeah," she said. "I think so." Then she leaned against his legs. "You promise you're not going to try to kill anyone with them?"

"I promise I won't kill anyone with them, even if by accident," he said. He nuzzled her again. "I think this can be used as a medicine. Nearly every poisonous plant there is can be used as a medicine, if you use it in small enough doses. It's the dose that makes it a poison. That's what separates the herbalists from the reckless."  

[Geyser Eelborn]

Hadiza believed him. Mostly, anyway. But she kept an eye on those berries she had harvested for him. And for the next several weeks, nothing happened. Her father returned to the glade sometimes, but he never came back with more. He said he was checking to see if anything had died nearby from eating the berries--that made sense. He could let "reckless" animals do some of the experiments for him. It still didn't sit well with Hadiza. If she and her father and Milo all knew that the berries should kill, they should tell someone.

"We'll tell people," Dad said. "I haven't seen anyone out there, though--no birds or rodents or anything, and certainly no soquili. I'm not sure anyone lives out there, and no one's been eating from the berries."

"Maybe they just hide when you're around," Hadiza said.

Dad nodded slowly. "Could be," he said. "Not everyone trusts soquili, and I can't say I blame them."

Sometimes Hadiza wondered about Dad. She loved him, of course she did, and she loved being around him, spending time with him! But sometimes she wondered if there was something about him that he didn't share with her. The more he told her about herbs and medicine, the more she could imagine someone using that knowledge to do bad things. Her dad, though? She remembered her suspicions on the day they picked the berries. He'd promised never to hurt someone with the berries. But she couldn't shake the suspicion that her father might not be the stallion she thought he was after all. That he was someone different when he wasn't around her or Papa or Milo.

The next day they set out for the Ghostberry Glade again. Milo had stayed behind--he said he needed some time alone to hunt. Hadiza loved hunting--well, she loved stalking and pouncing. She didn't think she could bring herself to kill another creature, though, unless it was hurting someone. A tick or a flea or a fly, sure. But not a mouse or a bird or a rabbit. Especially not a bird. Hadiza would groom her feathers and watch birds fly in the sky and she felt it, felt a connection between them. She wished she could fly. She wished she could soar like a bird. She didn't want birds to die, so she tried not to pay attention to what Milo ate. He said there was an Understanding, between Predator and Prey, and that soquili and kawani, that mysterious race of two-legged creatures with arms like serpents and claws like spiders, were the only ones who didn't understand that.

She didn't want to understand that. She didn't want to think that her death, or the death of her loved ones, was justified. Some things had to die for others to live. But that didn't mean she had to like it.

Hadiza stopped when Dad stopped. They hadn't reached the glade yet, but they were in the area, where the trees grew darker and denser and the birdsong went quiet. "I'll look to the west, you look to the east," he said. "If we see anyone, we'll warn them about the ghostberries." He nuzzled her. "Meet me back here when you're done. And no climbing trees, the branches here are too thin."

She sighed. "Yes, Dad," she said, and nuzzled him back. Then they turned and parted ways deeper into the forest.

The eastern half ran along a creek lined with ferns and moss, and the trail was narrow and twisting. At least it was midmorning--she could imagine how dark this place would get in early morning, or late afternoon. It was probably as dark as midnight then. At least right now she could see glimpses of sun through gaps in cloud and tree branches. There really wasn't much sound out here other than the scraping her claws on the ground and the gurgling of the creek. The insects were quiet, and the birds, and the rodents. It was just so...quiet. She couldn't even hear her father off in the distance. She felt so alone out here.

Then, from the roots of a tree, she heard a moan. She stopped, her ears pricking up and her tail held stiff and alert. It had sounded like an animal, not a plant or a rock or wind or something. But something alive. She hesitated. What if it hurts me? No. No, it wouldn't hurt her. She could defend herself. She had claws and fangs and her feathers were thick enough to block bites and claws of other creatures. She could defend herself! And whoever had made that noise sounded like they were in trouble! She trotted over to the source of the sound and found, half-buried in ferns and groundcover, a bird lying on its back. It looked up at her, its eyes unfocused. Something about it seemed off, and it smelled odd. It smelled sick. "Are you okay?" Hadiza asked.

The bird swallowed and stared at her, its mouth open. When it finally spoke, its voice was weak and hoarse. "Who...? Who..."

"I'm Hadiza," she said, then gently nudged him with her nose. He was burning up under his feathers. His skin was dry and he seemed unable to control his head from lolling. His breathing was labored. "Are you okay?"

He stared at her again. "N..." he said at last. "Nn...no..."

She paced back and forth a few steps. "Is there anything I can do?" Help. She needed to get help. She didn't know much about healing, she'd never asked, she'd always expected that Dad would heal anyone who needed to be healed...Dad! Yes, she should get Dad! "Stay here, I'm going to get help!" Then, before the bird could reply, she raced off in the direction she came.

She stopped at the meeting place and looked all around, but there was no sign of her father. She put her nose to the ground and tried following his scent, but at some point the creek she'd noticed earlier crossed into his side of the woods and he'd crossed the creek. She lost his scent, and it wasn't on the other bank either. And all the while, the bird was dying. She knew that. She didn't know much about medicine, but instinct told her that he was in bad shape, really, really bad shape, and that he wasn't going to get better on his own.

Medicine. He needed medicine. She needed to bring him medicine, but which medicine? She didn't have any, and she didn't know where to find them! She'd never been interested in it, so Dad had never told her about it! The only thing she knew where to find in this area was the ghostberry bush, and that was...

There's a story about a mare who used the berries to save her stillborn foal. Nearly every poisonous plant there is can be used as a medicine.

But ghostberries were poisonous, he'd said that. Can be used as a medicine...

She didn't know if they would work. She didn't know if she might be giving him too much. What if she killed him? I don't want to kill anyone! Especially not a bird! That's--that's practically family!

But if he was going to die anyway, a voice in her head said, one that sounded uncomfortably like Dad. Isn't that a risk you can take?

She didn't want to experiment on another person. That was wrong.

The bird was going to die anyway. Maybe he would be dead by the time she got back. He really hadn't looked like he had time left.

She made her decision. And she hated herself the whole way back to the bird.

Hadiza set the sprig of berries next to him and looked the bird over. He was barely breathing, and his mouth was open. I shouldn't do this. It's wrong!

She nudged the bird with her nose and breathed a sigh of relief as his eyes opened again. "I've...brought something," she said. "But I don't know if it will save you or kill you."

The bird smiled, a lopsided expression. "I...I'll...gi-give it a, try," he wheezed. "Can't...be worse than being...sick..." Then he closed his eyes again.

There were tears in Hadiza's eyes as she pulled a berry off the twig. The ones she'd picked with her dad had been underripe, but now the berries were, if anything, overripe. She picked the smallest one she could and gently laid it in his mouth with the tip of one of her claws, not daring to put it in her own mouth. Then she nudged his mouth closed and pet his throat until he swallowed. Then she sat and waited in the silent woods.  

[Geyser Eelborn]

Hadiza had been right to insist that they came back. This stretch of woods didn't have many creatures in it--not many he could warn, anyway--but he did run into a family of birds on the other side of the creek. They were huddled on the branches, talking amongst themselves. Even before he could hear their words, Martyn could hear the concern in their voices. When they saw him, they fluffed their feathers out and called out to him.

"Have you seen our son?" one of them asked. "We haven't seen him in days, he left to go foraging and didn't come back to the nests!"

Martyn shook his head. He felt an unexpected pang in his heart at the frantic expressions on their faces. Parents worried for their child, siblings for their brother. He suddenly imagined how he would feel if Hadiza went missing. "Where did you last see him? I mean, where was he going when you last saw him?"

"South," the father said. "It looks like you came from the south?"

"Quite a ways," he admitted. "A mile or so, we don't really live locally. But my daughter and I were looking around the area trying to warn people about the ghostberries nearby."

The birds perked up, expressions of alarm on their faces. "Ghostberries?"

He nodded. Hadiza was right. "I'll look south of the creek again. Maybe my daughter's found him already."

He cantered back to the other side, rushing over to the east where Hadiza had been looking for people. He saw broken undergrowth as if she had passed at some speed, and picked up his own pace. The woods were starting to feel sinister. It was as if the birds knew something about this place that he didn't. Why else hadn't they gone looking for their son so close nearby? I'll ask them later. For now, I need to find Hadiza. And hopefully that other bird, too. I just hope he hasn't been eating the berries, too...

Hadiza was easy to find. Martyn didn't exactly blend into the greens and browns of the forest, but he was practically subtle compared to his daughter's brilliant oranges and golds. She was crouched under a tree, looking worried, her feathers all fluffed up and her claws scratching up the ground. When she saw him, her face lit up with relief and he saw she'd been crying. "Hadiza! Sweetie, what's wrong?" He rushed up to her and nuzzled her. Then he looked at her feet and felt a cold rush down his back. It was a bird, similar enough in appearance to the other ones that it was clearly their missing son. He was laying on the ground, eyes closed, chest rising and falling.

"He was dying," Hadiza sobbed, burying her face in her father's leg. "I had to do something, I know it was wrong, but I had to try, and look, he's breathing properly again! He's breathing!"

Martyn lowered his head to sniff at the bird. Obviously, he was sick, and feverish, but his breathing was deep and steady. But the bird wasn't the only thing he'd smelled. He stared at the twig of ghostberries laying nearby. He looked back at his daughter, still in tears, still beside herself with worry. "Grab a piece of moss and soak it in the creek," he told her, his voice calm and steady. "We need to break his fever. Then tell me everything that happened, and everything you did."

The story came out in bits and pieces as they applied the wet moss to the bird's head and feet to bring the fever down. Then Martyn carefully laid the bird on Hadiza's back and they carried him back to his family. All the while, his mind was busy with thought.

"Did I do the wrong thing, Dad?" Hadiza whispered.

"I don't know." Martyn sighed. "I think he's going to make it, though. It looks like he's doing better. But we'll find out what's going on when we talk to his family. It sounds like they might know more about the ghostberries. If it grows around here, they probably know more than the old stories I've heard." He looked at her and smiled. "I think you did the best thing you could in the circumstances," he told her. "Healing isn't for the faint of heart. Sometimes you fail a patient. And sometimes...sometimes you mess up. Sometimes it's your fault they die. That's one of the reasons I haven't been trying to get you to follow in my hoofsteps. You aren't interested, and I don't want to force you to try it out. Because it's a lot of responsibility. Patients live, patients die, and sometimes they die because it's your fault. But I think he's going to live," he said quickly. "And I think he's going to live because of you."

Hadiza sniffed. "I don't want to be a healer," she said. "Or an herbalist. I don't think I could handle that responsibility."

Martyn nodded. "And that's okay, sweetie. I'm proud of you, for trying to help someone who needed help. Even if it was a big risk, you tried." He nuzzled her and walked by her side the whole way back to the bird family.  

[Geyser Eelborn]

The birds had a lot to say when they got back, and Hadiza and Dad had a lot to listen to. They thanked them both for bringing their son back, and thanked Hadiza for saving him. Dad told them that he probably wasn't out of trouble quite yet, but that he had some medicine back at home that he could bring their son. They accepted the offer and fussed over their son.

They told the soquili about the other side of the woods, the ones around the Ghostberry Glade. The whole area was bad luck--apparently a lot of birds had died there years ago, and there were stories about how any bird that flew into them would get sick and die. They'd warned their son not to go there, but he'd been curious. The fact that he'd gotten too sick to fly back only confirmed to them that they were right to avoid the area. That and the news about the ghostberries.

"They're poisonous when they're underripe, but a little bit of the ripe berries is medicine," the mother had said, matter-of-fact. "Brings down fevers and strengthens the body."

"Not quite as dramatic as the legends," Dad had said. "But fascinating to know." He'd turned to Hadiza. "The ones we picked earlier are ripe now. Good thing we were careful when we picked them."

"Don't use them when they're too ripe," an elderly bird, one of the grandparents, had added. "They'll make you see gods in your toenails and hear songs from slugs."

"Good to know!"

Hadiza and Martyn bid good-bye to the bird family and returned home that afternoon to fetch medicine for the sick bird. "I don't want to be a healer," Hadiza said. "But I'm glad we were able to help that bird."

"Me too, sweetie," Martyn said. "Me too."