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Voodoo sat in a clearing, going over the items before him to make sure they were all there. Primrose? Check. Pan filled half way with purified water? Check. Fresh twig stripped of its leaves and singed on one end? Check. Fire? Check. He picked up the primrose, pulling the petals away and dropping them in the pan. Placing the pan on the fire, he let the water boil for a few minutes before taking it off and letting it sit to cool. Once cooled, he removed the petals. He rose, holding the twig singed end down above the pan and dropped it, a little bit of water splashing out as it hit. It bobbed around, still catching its ground before it floated.

Voodoo stared at the twig. This would tell him where to go, how to find what it was he was missing. He looked around his teepee, eying all the various ingredients. Bones, hair, dolls, garlands and garlands of herbs, vials of blood and tears. Oils, salves, potions and water. Flowers, bark, roots and seeds. Ribbons, candles, feathers and precious gems and crystals. Scraps of paper were scattered around, blank or with words scribbled on them. Everything he needed for his work. Nothing he could use to give a clear indication to where or what he was searching for.

Even now what he was doing was simply a guide - the fate's sending him in a direction. He would follow, of course. Why not leave it up to fate since he had no other means of locating it? His eyes glanced down at the stick. It was no longer floating. The divination had failed. Even the fates did not know where to point him.

Voodoo was beginning to think this was all hopeless. The magic he practiced was all a load of bull; nothing was going to give him the answers he wanted. He needed a miracle; not magic he wasn't sure even worked. Angrily, he kicked the pan aside; sending it clattering into the bushes and water splashing everywhere.
Picking up a pot, he placed it over the fire, covering and extinguishing it. That was enough 'magic' for today. He'd had enough disappointment.

Standing, Voodoo began collecting the items he'd used, placing them along various benches and shelves. Reaching into the bush, he collected the pan, but left the twig there. What use was it to him now that it had failed? Looking up at the sky, Voodoo squinted his eyes at the sun. Blinding; bright. It couldn't be missed by anyone. It was always there for someone to find. If only the answers he needed were blinding like the sun. Maybe this would be easier.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a voice. Turning around, he watched as a small foal nosed his belongings. Already irritated enough as it is; this was about to push him over the edge. The foal spoke quickly, shrilly and in one long sentence. When she was finished she seemed to still and calm. For how long it lasted he didn't know. Frowning in annoyance, Voodoo stared at her.

"What," he gritted through his teeth. "Are you doing here."

It seemed the Gods - or whoever loved to taunt him - were testing his limits today. He gritted his teeth, frown deepening and mouth opening with a light snarl. Of course, despite his appearance and current temperament; and the nightmares that told him otherwise; he was not one to harm a child. A deep breath, he exhaled some of his anger, promising to curse whoever had cursed him. Today was going to be a long day before the foal had arrived; now it appeared it was going to stretch on forever, an endless torment. At least he wouldn't be able to sleep if she was constantly questioning the existence and reasons of everything.

Eying her a little more gently now, though the frown still creasing his forehead, he dug his hooves into the ground as she let off a string of words that seemed to form a million questions and one sentence at the same time. Calm, Voodoo. She's just a child. He eyed the tree on his back. He didn't know why it was there; a curse he had guessed and he'd tried for weeks to try and remove it with painful results that proved it was impossible. Inwardly he shuddered at the memory. That was not a tale for a child, that even he knew.

"I don't do anything without gaining something, little one," he grumbled out. "Unless you're going to offer me something in return, I'll not be answering your questions." His annoyance returned and he glared at her. "What child travels on their own? You should be home with your mother, warm and safe where monsters like me can't hurt you." He leaned down, snout to snout, eying her; though his eyes were barely visible in the shadows of his mask. Perhaps he could scare her off and be done with it.

Voodoo breathed in sharply as her voice piqued up once more, grating on his whole existence. Were all children like this? To think long ago he had actually wanted children. How foolish he had been. If this was the outcome, he was glad it had never happened. Though he imagined his children would be less.. frustrating? Annoying? Whatever this foal was, he had to get rid of her; preferably before he lost his temper.

That wasn't going to be easy, it seemed. She was too innocent and curious to be frightened off. It was take a trick. Or a miracle. Perhaps her parents would come looking for her and he could send her on her way and be done with it. He watched her carefully as she puttered around, looking for something to trade with. She was looking in his own belongings, but he ignored the fact. The quicker this was over and done with, the better.

A.. A pinecone. That was what she offered? Did she not realise that the whole forest was full of pine trees? He hid the frown that was nudging at his features and suppressed a sigh - though it took all his strength. And then he paid attention to what she said and his eyes widened. A story about trees? Was it perhaps about him?

"The story," he blurted out. "I want to hear the story. I'll trade anything for it."