It was dawn when Briar woke from the nightmares, his fists clenched and his head pressed hard against his pillow. Rolling over, he sent a brief hello to the ivy that had crept around him in the night, and politely asked it to release him, so that he might get up. When it refused, he asked again, with a touch of his magic. It let him go with a quiet sigh.
Rising, he looked over at his teacher, Rosethorn, laying in her own bedroll a few feet away from his. Somehow, a blueberry bush had claimed the role of her blanket, coating her and the area around her with stems and leaves and soft blue berries.
"You aren't even in season." He scolded the plant gently. "Save your energy for winter."
The plants ignored him, continuing their loving watch over Rosethorn. They hadn't seen a magic like hers in years, though Briar thought, from the way their memories felt, that it had been a week or so. Blueberry plants never could keep track of time. They didn't care about seasons or the measurements humans used to organize time. They just wanted to make as many berries as they possibly could before the snows came. Stubborn things, blueberry bushes.
Wait… Briar frowned. As far as Rosethorn knew, she'd never passed through this forest, with its ancient growth and creeping vines. And there were no green mages as powerful as her, not that he knew of. Well, there was always Dedicate Crane, but even he couldn't measure up to Rosethorn's immense power.
"Now, where could this have come from?" Briar cupped his chin in his right palm, reaching out to stroke one of the blueberry bush's stems with gentle fingers. The bush twined around the fingers, and spoke to him in his mind. The great tree, the sun, ancient roots and giant blossoms, the essence of life itself… the memories of feelings that the bush shared with him made his eyes water. What on earth…?
The sun walked on two legs, but felt like a tree, chimed the trees around him. Young grass beneath and around him shifted in agreement, sending a soft ripple through the clearing. A mage who was one of them. The mage didn't feel like a person, not the way Briar and Rosethorn did. They were a tree in all the ways that mattered to green things.
"And where might I find this great mage?" he inquired, letting his awareness stretch to cover all the plants in the clearing. They were stretched towards him, eager to share what they knew.
The tree sun mage flower vine plant lived at the heart the center the roots the core the flower the seed the fruit of the forest the home the web the life-place. They were so bright earthy green alive and they could heal repair kiss feed nurse cure any of their illnesses ailments sicknesses-
"Quit it!" Briar covered his ears, trying to protect himself from the onslaught of thought. So many green things were… could plants yell? If they could, it was like being in a market, with every voice trying to be heard, all trying to be the loudest. "If you're going to talk, do it orderly-like. One at a time, please."
Grudgingly, the plants obeyed. A creeping wildflower spread to touch his shakaan. Briar eyed the two plants, wondering idly how exactly they were conversing, and what was being said. Eventually, the flower drew back, and his shakaan reached out to him, ready to share what information it had.
The green mage that shone like the sun was deep in the forest. They had been there as long as some of the oldest trees, or so the rumors said. But until a decade or so ago, it had rested, laying dormant in the soil, lending its magic to the forest to protect and shape it as the years wore away at the land. And then the seed sprouted, and turned into a tree of sorts that walked throughout the forest, healing wounds and spreading light wherever it went. But the tree-mage hadn't been to visit in a while, not in person. Usually they settled their magic over the whole forest like a net, keeping steady watch over everything, but since Briar and Rosethorn had entered the forest a week ago, only the plants at the forest's heart could still feel its power.
Briar thanked the shakaan, and wondered briefly whether he should wake Rosethorn or not. She had stayed up long past the setting of the sun the night before, using a crystal that Briar's student Evvy had infused with light, to write notes on the plants she was studying here, and scribbling rough sketches with a rod of charcoal from their fire.
Rosethorn had asked him to come here with her a month ago. It was a mysterious forest, surrounded with magic and old stories. No one ventured too far in, for fear of never coming out. It was too old, the locals had said. Too full of memories.
Briar had thought the locals superstitious, at the time. But now, he wasn't so sure.
He decided against waking Rosethorn. His teacher needed all the sleep she could get. Scooping up his pack, Briar was just beginning to take a step when a crisp, unamused voice interrupted him.
"Thinking of leaving without me, are you, boy?"
Dedicate Rosethorn watched him with a steel gaze, her tone almost accusatory. Briar grinned impishly.
"Naw, I'm sure I would've changed my mind before I got too far."
Rosethorn ordered the blueberry bush off of her, and rose, not bothering to brush the dirt off of her Earth Temple habit. It had been woven by Sandry, as a Midwinter gift, and was spelled against wear, wrinkles, and mess. Since then, Rosethorn had taken to sleeping in her habit, claiming that it was much more comfortable than her old sleep things. Briar, wise as he was, chose not to argue.
When she'd pulled some boots over her feet, Rosethorn eyed Briar sternly until he put on boots of his own, and then nudged him in the back with one finger.
"Lead, boy. You know where she is. Get going."
Frowning, Briar looked back at his teacher.
"How do you know this mage is a she?"
Rosethorn just grinned in response.
"It's just a hunch."