(no subject)

[pisum_sativum]

There is a certain herb, deep in the wood, with leaves so dark and glossy that the dew forms on them the first of all the forest's greenery, and of such virtue that if the dew be collected therefrom and drunk or bathed in, it is wondrously refreshing to the heart and spirit.

Collecting the dew is a painstaking task: it must be done after midnight and before dawn, drop by drop, and stored in acorn cups until ready to use.

The Queen has people to do such things.

Comments

[and_i]

Moth gives them a little waggle of her fingers.

"Send us on, sirrah. We'll find him for the Queen."

[pisum_sativum]

He exchanges a swift glance with Cobweb, and another with Mustardseed.

If Moth knows where they're going already ... well.

This may be a merry night after all.