#wake-robin

“Cool April hikes bring such joy. There is always something new, not always obvious or evident, but when you look around new surprises and revelations always present themselves.” – Ed Lehming The spring that began so mild and warm has settled back to a bit more normal pattern of cool nights and misty days. The plants and flowers that seemed so accelerated have slowed down as well. This has been…

Plant of the Day

Tuesday 16 April 2019

In Trillium sessile (birthroot, wake-robin, stinking Benjamin) the flower parts are in groups of three, with 3-petalled flowers above whorls of pointed triple leaves. The flowers have the smell of rotting meat, as they are pollinated by flies. These plants were thriving in a woodland border of Balmoral Cottage, Kent.

working on a new character- a really neat lago called Wake-Robin. I was researching some folk names for plants, and there’s just so many good ones.

Wake-Robin's nose twitched as her dark-tipped ears swiveled towards the sound of hoofbeats. Travelers- just two, from the sound of it, coming from the direction of the manor. Light horses or ponies, certainly not the big destriers of a knight. She leaned on her staff, a stout walking stick her father had carved out of mangrove years ago, and waited for the horses to come into view.

Dust clouds on the road, and the horses were upon her. She recognized the vibrant colors of her employer's couriers. A smile crossed her muzzle- payday.

She tugged her ear in greeting as the halfling courier doffed her hat. Her guard, a tall doggish-looking fellow of indeterminate origin, simply nodded. "Watching the road, Wake-Robin?" she said with a smile.

"Sure am, Sam," she said. "Nothing coming for miles, but you probably knew that. Not much happens around here, despite what his lordship would like to believe." This elicited a snort from the guard and a chuckle from the halfling, who leaned towards Wake-Robin and whispered theatrically.

"Cadogan's in some trouble this year. His tenants had a decent harvest, but his son got a wretched price at market. Boy's got no head for negotiations, and Cadogan's got far too many ideas about what nobility should be to understand what he actually is. Fills the boy's head with dreams of being a knight for the king- but good luck with that when you can't even afford a proper warhorse... or a proper staff!" Humans tended to prefer to hire humans, but everybody knew that Lord Cadogan was hard-up and as unimportant as the sleepy backwater he held. Still, Wake-Robin was surprised enough that she'd been hired. She was quite young and relatively inexperienced.

"Cadogan might be in trouble, but the question is, can he still pay me?" The lago smiled, whiskers twitching. Sam pulled a small bag of coins from her belt.

"See for yourself," the hafling said as she tossed it. Wake-Robin snatched it from the air, catching it neatly and relishing the clink it made as it hit her hand. She weighed the pouch of coins for a moment before tucking it in her rucksack. "Thanks, Sam. That'll buy my bread- and pudding too, maybe."

"And there's a letter for you here, too," Sam said, rifling through her satchel. Wake-Robin recognized the sender immediately- the seal of her family's warren held the letter closed in her favorite sister's brown wax. "Says it's from Mangrove Warren. That's your folks, right?"

"Mmhm. Looks like it's from one of my sisters- Dog-Hobble, the one I told you about before? She's two years younger than me and she's probably coming out here when our parents can spare her- which should be soon, because they have far, far more children than necessary. But we're cheap to feed- the swamp isn't like here. You hardly have to work to grow anything, and if you're really unlucky, you can always go fishing."

"It sounds nice," said the halfling. "Nice, but perhaps too humid in the summer. Would you be presenting her to Cadogan as a guard?"

"That or a runner- she's about as fast as I am. But I'm planning on moving on come spring- I'm feeling the itch to move on, and Cadogan doesn't pay enough to tie me down." She thumped her foot, demonstrating her restlessness. "If Dog-Hobble comes out here, I can present her as my replacement, train her through winter, and head out in spring. She's a better conversationalist than me, you'll get along great."

Sam nodded, understanding well the transient nature of guards for hire. "I'm sure we will. Speaking of guards, we have to run now- the south gate warder needs his pay, too. Fare well, Wake-Robin!"

Wake-Robin waved the halfling and her guard off, letter gripped tightly in her other hand. Hearing from her family was always a treat. Her siblings were excessively numerous, but she loved all of them fiercely. She missed Dog-Hobble sorely; it'd been quite a while since she'd been back to the warren and even longer since she'd last seen her sister at sea. Satisfied that there was nothing coming up or down the road, she settled in the shade of a beech tree to read the letter.

"Dear Wake-Robin,

Hope you're well. Mum and Dad send their love, and so do Rosie and Fiddle-leaf and Seven-Bark and Camphor and I'm sure all the rest do too, but those are the only ones around right now- Pepper and Blush and Bluebonnet took a load of herbs down to the White Oak Warren to sell, but we all know they went over there to flirt, really- it's just as well, there's not really a lot of decent-looking young bucks around here we're not related to. Bottlebrush and Hagbrier are working the ferry, and honestly I don't know where the three littlest ones are. Aunt Locoweed's had twins recently, so they're probably over there, getting into all kinds of trouble with Mockernut and Spleenwort while she's occupied. You haven't seen them in a while, but they've shot up like weeds. They're really lording it over our little ones while they can.

We heard from Fortune's Palm earlier this week. He's done really well this season, despite his leg acting up. He said that Mum's ballads are really popular, and he's made enough for not only an extremely nice mandolin, but also a small vardo for his troupe! Now he just needs to buy horses. Dad started grumbling again about why he just doesn't come home, and how no good comes of leaving the swamp to go adventuring, but Mum said if no good came of adventuring, then that must mean that her coming here and meeting him wasn't any good. So that shut him up. Still haven't heard from Gherkin in a while, but that's understandable. It's hard to get mail across the ocean. Our cousin Gourd's got a sister-in-law called Hens-and-Chicks who's something of a hedge witch- she knows a lot about weather and says it's not storm season, so Gherkin's ship is probably fine.

I very much appreciated your last letter- I talked to Mum about it, and she thinks that it's good if I come out to join you after the summer season's over. It's that or go to White Oak, because if I stick around here I'm worried I'll end up stuck. Mind-Your -Business has been courting me in earnest, and while he's cute enough and certainly has fine business acumen, I don't want to be a cloth merchant's wife. This Lord Cadogan of yours sounds like a decent enough employer, and I've got the same training you had when you left. Working in the dry lands doesn't sound too difficult- once you've had to chase off as many alligators as we have, stuffed shirts and pompous windbags looking for a fight don't sound too bad. And besides, I have bigger feet than you- I can certainly give a mighty kick if I have to!

Oh, that reminds me. Speaking of kicks, Aunt Locoweed's oldest- Freckleface, the one who's my age? He's in trouble. Big trouble. He and Sand Lily from White Oak are in the family way, and Sand Lily's furious. She came down and gave him a dressing-down and a cussing-out you wouldn't believe. The wedding's in two weeks, on account of she won't be able to fit into her best dress soon. Don't think I've ever seen Freckleface so happy- he really loves her.  It's enough to make you sick. Mum and Dad aren't being pushy about it, but Aunt Locoweed certainly is- and Bottlebrush, too. His wife's something like four months long now, and you'd think he was the first lago to figure out fatherhood. And Hagbrier's not much better. She and her wife are up to five now- Hag's two, and then Harrier's had three, and they've both been asking me and Camphor if there's anyone we fancy. Camphor's got his eye on like three people, and I just want to leave. And I miss you an awful lot. Can you tell me more about the estate? I want to know more about the plants in the area, if you can tell me.

All my love,

Dog-Hobble"

Wake-Robin smiled and folded the letter carefully, tucking it in next to the coins. She'd write her sister tonight- maybe get some leaves and flowers pressed to tuck into the letter when she sent it- but for now, with the road secure, it was time to let the day stretch on ahead of her. Hefting her rucksack, she headed out to patrol the woods. It might be a strange life for a lago, but it suited her- and at least for now, she wouldn't have any other.

Rumors Positive: She's known to be reliable- gets the job done quickly and efficiently- and it's rumored she's the fastest courier in the area.

One time at the harvest fair she managed to win the pie eating contest by a margin of two pies, a story which has spread around the area and gotten embellished so much so that as the story goes, not only did she eat all her pies but then she started in on her neighbor's. She certainly eat a lot, and is known to both appreciate a good feast and cook pretty well herself.

Negative: It's said that she has a weakness for gambling and betting on games of chance, and that she's liable to lose greatly at the table- and that this can be used to manipulate her.

Supposedly, she likes carrots. She does not like carrots. Carrot jokes are something of a berserk button for her and she has to work very hard to keep her temper when offered carrots, especially when somebody does it with that cutesy little smirk, you know the one. 

Wildly untrue: Rumor has it she's responsible for masterminding a series of crop thefts around the M'kgregor encampment, a massive farmstead run by a clan of orcs and half-orcs.

Wake-Robin (Trillium underwoodii). 1937.

Watercolour by Mary Vaux Walcott.