The silence that stretched between them as they left Oakhaven was thicker than the morning mist. Celestine marched a few paces ahead, her basket swinging with an irritated rhythm. She could feel the huntress's presence behind her like a shadow—a large, silent, and deeply annoying shadow. This was supposed to be a peaceful day of solitary foraging, not a guided tour for a monosyllabic lumberjack.
After ten minutes of suffocating quiet, Celestine decided enough was enough. She wasn't going to spend the entire day fuming. She was a professional, and professionals made polite conversation, even with infuriatingly tall, quest-stealing individuals.
She slowed her pace until the woman was beside her. "So," Celestine began, her voice artificially bright. "Since we're apparently a 'team' now, I suppose I should know what to call you. Other than 'Hey, you' or 'Parchment-Thief'."
The woman glanced at her, those golden eyes unreadable. She walked for a few more steps before answering, her voice a low rumble. "Prious."
"Prious?" Celestine repeated. "Is that short for something dreadfully imposing? Prious the Punisher? Prious the Wolf-Slayer?" She meant it as a joke, but the woman's shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly.
"Just… short," Prious said, her gaze fixed firmly on the path ahead.
"Well, what a coincidence!" Celestine chirped, latching onto the topic. "Mine is short too! My full name is a mouthful, let me tell you. A proper, old-fashioned saga of a name. The folks in the village call me Mistress Stine, which is fine for business, but since we're teammates," she said the word with exaggerated warmth, "you can call me Stine. Short for Celestine."
Prious gave a single, sharp nod. "Stine."
"See? Doesn't that feel nicer? Less like we're about to duel over a bundle of sage?" Celestine smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. Prious just nodded again. This was going to be like talking to a very attractive, well-armed brick wall.
They reached the sun-drenched plains where the sage grew. The air hummed with bees, and the silver-green leaves shimmered under the bright sky.
"Now," Celestine announced, slipping into her professional mode. "Salvia officinalis. Sun-Kissed Sage. We're looking for mature plants, at least two years old. The leaves should be a silvery-green, not yellowing, and firm to the touch. We want to cut the stems just above a leaf node to encourage new growth. It's about sustainability, you see? Not just… rampant pillaging."
She demonstrated, using a pair of sharp, silver shears to neatly snip several perfect stems, bundling them with a twist of twine. "See? Easy."
Prious watched, then turned to a nearby plant. With a grunt, she grabbed a handful of young, vibrant green stems and yanked. There was a sickening crack as she pulled up half the root system along with them.
Celestine stared, aghast. "What are you doing?"
Prious looked at the mangled plant in her hand, then at Celestine's horrified expression. "Sage," she stated, as if it were obvious.
"That's… that's baby sage!" Celestine sputtered, striding over. "It hasn't developed its essential oils yet! And you uprooted it! That plant is dead now! It can't regrow!" She took the pathetic bunch from Prious's hand. "Stars above, it's like you've never seen a plant before. Were you raised in a cave?"
Prious's cheeks flushed a faint pink. She looked down at her boots. "...Hunting. I was raised hunting."
"Well, you don't hunt plants, you gather them. There's a difference." Celestine sighed, the sound full of long-suffering patience. "Here. Watch." She guided Prious's gloved hand—ignoring the jolt that went through her at the contact—to a mature stem. "Feel that? Woody, sturdy. This is what we want. Not the soft, green ones that look like they'd taste good in a salad."
For the next hour, they worked. Or rather, Celestine worked, and Prious attempted to under her strict supervision. Every time Prious reached for a plant, Celestine was there, a torrent of botanical critique.
"No, not that one, it's got powdery mildew! See the white spots? Tsk tsk."
"Too shady! It won't have the same potency!"
"Oh, for the love of—did you just try to pick one that was already flowering? The energy goes into the flowers, not the leaves! You're a disaster!"
To her surprise, Prious took the criticism without a word of complaint. She just listened, her brow furrowed in concentration, her massive hands moving with newfound caution. When Celestine finally laughed, a real, genuine laugh after Prious presented her with a perfectly bundled sage collection, the huntress's head shot up.
"You see?" Celestine giggled, wiping a tear from her eye. "You can be taught! You're just… a very, very slow learner. Like a very large, very dangerous puppy."
Prious stared at her, the blush returning to her cheeks. She quickly looked away, but not before Celestine saw the faintest, tiniest upward twitch at the corner of her mouth.
The spruce forest was cooler, the air heavy with the scent of pine. Here, the Silverleaf Thistle grew in treacherous, rocky soil.
"Argenteus carduus," Celestine lectured, pointing to a plant with beautiful, silvery-spotted leaves and a formidable-looking purple flower. "The root is what we need. But it's a tricky devil. You have to find the ones that have just finished flowering—that's when the medicinal compounds are most concentrated in the root. And you have to dig around it, carefully, or you'll damage the taproot."
She produced a small, sturdy trowel and began to dig, her movements precise. After a few minutes, she unearthed a thick, gnarled root, its surface a pale, silvery white. "A perfect specimen!"
Prious, armed with her own dagger—because of course she'd use a dagger for gardening—set to work. Celestine watched out of the corner of her eye, her expression one of morbid fascination. Prious stabbed at the earth, wrestled with a thistle, and after a great deal of grunting and snapping, emerged with a pathetic, broken piece of root about the size of her thumb. It was dirty and bruised.
Celestine walked over, hands on her hips. "Let me see your haul."
Prious silently held out her meager collection: three pitiful root fragments.
Celestine picked one up, shaking her head in mock despair. "Oh, Prious. Prious, Prious, Prious. This one is from a first-year plant—see how thin it is? No medicinal value whatsoever. And this one…" She held up another, which was dark and soft in one spot. "...is rotten. You've essentially gathered garbage."
Prious's ears were now a brilliant shade of red. She looked genuinely crestfallen.
"It's all about the signs," Celestine said, her tone softening from teasing to genuine instruction. She loved this, sharing her knowledge. "Look for the flower heads that are just starting to dry out and go to seed. The leaves should have a bright, metallic silver sheen, not a dull grey. And the stem should feel sturdy, not hollow." She guided Prious to a new plant, pointing out each characteristic. "Now, you try. Gently."
This time, Prious's efforts were slower, more deliberate. She used her dagger to carefully loosen the soil around the plant, her immense strength controlled. When she finally pulled the root free, it was whole, decently sized, and healthy.
"There!" Celestine exclaimed, beaming. "You did it! It's not perfect, but it's a solid B-minus! I'm so proud!" She clapped her hands together, and the sheer, unexpected warmth of her praise made Prious duck her head, a deeper blush spreading across her face.
The cave was damp and echoed with the faint sound of dripping water. Strange, phosphorescent mosses lit the walls in an eerie blue-green glow. This was where the Dew-from-a-Spider's-Web was found, collected from the intricate orbs of the Crystal-Weaver spiders.
"The dew has to be collected at first light," Celestine explained, her voice hushed. "But it preserves its magical properties if the web is harvested whole and the dew is tapped out in a controlled environment. The trick is to get the web without disturbing the weaver. They're… territorial."
As if on cue, a spider the size of a dinner plate scuttled down from the ceiling, its crystalline fangs clicking.
Prious immediately stepped in front of Celestine, her hand going to the great axe on her back. "Stay back."
"Oh, hush," Celestine said, nudging her aside. "You'll scare it."
Before Prious could protest, Celestine darted forward. She moved not with the brute force of a warrior, but with the fluid, practiced ease of a dancer who knew exactly where to step. As the spider lunged, she sidestepped, her silver shears flashing in the gloom. There was a precise snip, and one of the spider's leading legs was severed at the joint. It recoiled with a hiss. She ducked under a spray of sticky webbing, twirled, and used the flat of her trowel to smack the creature squarely on its cephalothorax, stunning it. In the ensuing moment, she neatly sliced the anchor lines of the nearest, dew-covered web, rolling it onto a prepared frame with the dexterity of a master seamstress.
The whole encounter lasted less than ten seconds.
Celestine turned, holding the perfectly preserved web, not a hair out of place. She found Prious staring at her, her golden eyes wide, her jaw slightly agape. The look of pure, unadulterated admiration was so stark on her normally stoic face that Celestine felt her own cheeks grow warm.
"What?" Celestine asked, flustered. "I'm a herbalist. We deal with dangerous plants and the things that live on them all the time. Now stop staring, you're going to make me melt. Or worse, drop this very expensive web."
Prious immediately snapped her gaze away, focusing intently on a nearby rock formation. The blush that had been teasing her cheeks all day now bloomed into a full, crimson flush that crept all the way to the tips of her ears. She looked utterly flummoxed.
Celestine was about to tease her further when a low, guttural growl echoed from the back of the cave. A massive, six-legged creature with chitinous plating and dripping mandibles emerged from the shadows, attracted by the commotion. A Rock-Borer Beast.
"Okay," Celestine said, taking a step back. "That one's all yours."
Prious didn't need to be told twice. The transformation was instantaneous. The flustered, blushing woman was gone, replaced by a whirlwind of controlled violence. She moved with a power and speed that made Celestine's earlier display look like a child's game. Her great axe was a blur of polished steel, shearing through the beast's legs with brutal efficiency. She didn't waste a single movement. A duck, a pivot, a mighty swing. Within moments, the beast was dead, its carcass dissolving into a harmless, gravel-like dust.
Prious stood over the remains, her chest heaving slightly, her grey hair tousled. She turned back to Celestine, the fierce light in her eyes softening back into that now-familiar, slightly shy gaze.
"Show-off," Celestine muttered, but she was impressed, and she couldn't quite hide it.
As twilight fell, they made camp in a small, sheltered clearing. Prious built a fire with practiced efficiency while Celestine unpacked her cooking kit. She made a simple stew with the remaining rabbit, wild onions, and some of the fresh sage.
"You know," Celestine mused as she stirred the pot, "for someone who can reduce a monster to gravel in three seconds flat, you're remarkably useless with a trowel."
Prious, who was sitting on a log sharpening her axe, glanced up. A faint smile played on her lips. "Not my skill."
"Clearly! I've never seen anyone try to commune with a thistle root through brute force before. It was like watching a bear try to do needlepoint."
Prious's smile widened a fraction. She seemed to be growing more comfortable with the teasing, even if she had no witty retorts. She just… absorbed it, like a tree soaking up sunlight.
"So, what's your story, Prious the Hunter?" Celestine asked, handing her a bowl of stew. "Why the solitary life? No pack? No… special someone to go home to?"
Prious accepted the bowl, her fingers brushing against Celestine's. She looked into the fire. "No one," she said quietly. "Simple. This is… easier."
Celestine looked at her, at the way the firelight carved shadows into the sharp planes of her face. She saw not a fearsome huntress, but a profoundly lonely woman. It was a feeling she knew all too well.
"Well," Celestine said, her voice softer now. "It's also simpler when you have a teammate who can tell a rotten root from a healthy one. Just saying."
Prious looked up from her stew, her golden eyes meeting Celestine's. In their depths, Celestine saw something warm, something grateful. Prious gave a slow, meaningful nod.
Later, lying on their bedrolls under a canopy of brilliant stars, Celestine talked. She pointed out constellations, giving them her own, improvised names. "That one there, that's the Great Teapot. And that swirling cluster? That's the Sprite's Dance. And see those three bright stars in a row? That's Borin's Belt—you can tell because it looks sturdy and reliable, but is actually a bit thick around the middle."
Prious lay on her side, propped on an elbow, just watching her. She didn't speak, but her attention was absolute. She was listening to every word, her gaze tracing the lines Celestine drew in the sky.
"You know," Celestine yawned, her words beginning to slur with sleep, "for a silent, grumpy, quest-stealing giant… you're not entirely terrible company."
There was no verbal response. But as Celestine's eyes fluttered shut, she felt a gentle, tentative weight as Prious carefully pulled the edge of her own blanket over Celestine's shoulders.
The last thing Celestine was aware of was the sound of Prious's steady breathing and the feeling of being, for the first time in centuries, truly and completely watched over. The forest was no longer a place of isolation, but a sanctuary shared with a clumsy, blushing, and unexpectedly wonderful mystery.