[ wc 982 ]
Noire was no stranger to odd requests. Locate such and such toy for me, heirloom of the Others passed down in our family from generation to generation, lost in an isolate hovel after a dispute. (This turned out to be a small, ragged thing of cloth and 2.5 limbs, its mane timeworn and its face flat as a hoof and hornless.) Plant these seeds under a special constellation so that they grow protected in a dangerous place I dare not venture. (He still had no idea why this had to be the case other than pure whim and imagination. The only good from that job beyond completion was getting a friend out of her home for a bit.) Find the nest of rats that devoured my child without being seen or scented. (That one...He didn't like remembering that one, or the subsequent confrontation. Nasty business all around, especially once the mother tried to engage him further in her conflict, make him her soldier rather than just a contracted detective.) Noire was a noulicorn who often heard plenty, so it wasn't long before the rumors came through his personal grapevine about one Scoria's funny little request.
Truth be told, locating a so-called spring with magical powers wasn't all that different from the myriad other odd jobs he had done before. Still, Noire had to fight to keep scorn out of his voice as he prodded her more about this apparent treasure, unwilling to simply go on a wild goose chase without a little more information. That it was supposed to be located in Blackbriar Bog of all places made him raise a brow, though he didn't interrupt her pitch. (And loves? He could barely imagine the one existing, let alone multiple.) Unfortunately, Scoria couldn't give him as much as he wanted, and that was what made him hem and haw over it between his day off and other jobs he wanted to finish first. Eventually, however, as several other noulicorn returned from their attempts, their talks ranging from skeptical "got mine" to hopeful "I did see something" that remained private beyond those words, Noir couldn't ignore his own itch to investigate much longer.
That was the problem with his innate curiosity: it drove him to want to know, no matter how small or laughable or unevidenced. Having secondhand stories wasn't enough. And if nothing else, Noire reasoned aloud to himself (grudgingly, as he went about preparing for his trip with all the energy of a healer's visit), if there was such magic at work, others would surely find use in it, even if he personally didn't.
As was his wont, Noire wondered where the rumor had sprung from to begin with as he traveled. Was it a sign of the healing efforts working? Blackbriar Bog had been beyond him both before and after his visit to the Grandfather Tree: the area had plenty of water, albeit the majority being poisoned at first, and his only ability was just to sniff it out, hidden or otherwise. Still, Noire knew that the bog, just like any other place in Vykeli, had its secrets to be uncovered still. Perhaps all of their collective cleansing efforts had brought about this font of...romance portention. Eugh. What a fairy tale it sounded. Something more practical couldn't have been revived instead?
"Careful now," he told himself. "The council wanted to revive something, too. Look where it got them."
Noire had navigated Blackbriar to a degree that he knew where to branch away to reach wilder territory. Being an alert and to some degree suspicious noul, and knowing the wildlife that already existed and the many dangers awaiting him ahead of time, he picked his way through the bog carefully. Mud was tested before his weight was pressed down. The wind's direction was noted in case catbeasts lurked about. It was a good thing he went alone, so slow was his progress.
Only when he had gone a good distance from known paths did Noire activate his ability, tracing the ambient sources of water and measuring them against his own knowledge of stagnant things. Between this and picking through the wet land, he began a fine tooth combing of the swamp. Some places had seemed promising, but the strongest case came in the form of an underground branch of water that grew away from the larger bodies. It felt different in his head from the poisoned taste usually associated with Blackbriar: perhaps there really was a clean river here? Frowning to himself in thought, Noire followed the winding path until after nearly tripping several times over hidden roots, he came across a strange hole in the ground. It sat on one of the higher hills in the bog but appeared empty save for faint tracks of wildlife; had he not kept his dousing up, Noire would have not suspected that beneath it was a source of water at all.
Gingerly, he pawed at the ground until water began to seep up. Unlike the swamp below, the water was clear and lacked the foul scent that Noire was sure would be clinging to his hide for hours after he left. After a few sniffs, Noire taste tested it, feeling nothing but grit from the mud. Well, if it was a magic river or pool here, it definitely could stand to taste better if so. But beggars couldn't be choosers. Noire did his best to dig a hole wide and deep enough to dip his little jug into, sifting out dirt to the best of his ability.
All of this just to know who to love? Noire scoffed to himself as he turned back and left the bog. Well, let others puzzle whether or not this was the divination they sought. One mystery would be solved, and soon he could look into another: such as whether or not those stones were worthy prizes...
