Chapter Text
The sky was angry. Angrier than she had ever seen it. Usually there would be portents before a storm this bad, but this one seemed to come out of nowhere. It was too late to make it back to her cottage, hopefully it would survive. Her new apprentice should be able to recognize the signs. She had taught him the basics of securing everything before a storm. She only hoped he wouldn't hold to the foolish notion that she would return before it broke. She had told him repeatedly that if he was there alone when a storm came on that he was to lock everyone out, even her. Weakness out here in the wildlands would only end in more bodies to bury. Rain by itself was nothing to worry about but a magic storm could destroy everything she had and there was plenty she had that was not ready to be released into the world yet.
There were caves nearby. She knew them well. It wasn't the most ideal protection but it was better than standing out and letting the storm take her. There was barely time to get inside and put up the most basic protection before it came.
For a few minutes it was peaceful. A nice calm spring rainstorm, nothing to be afraid of. Someone wanted to catch travelers unawares then. Marauders, bandits, thieves. But how could they have such control over the sky itself? Unless they had a mage who had given himself to their directions. It was almost unthinkable. She closed her eyes and rested. Wards of protection were woven in with the branches and twigs she had used to block off the entrance of the cave. She would know if someone or something tried to enter. This cave was far enough away from the roads that it wasn't likely, and the cottage was even further into the forest.
A scream tore through the sky. It was not just angry, it was in pain. Someone was tearing the sky apart. She dared a glance outside. Drops were falling, large and red. The color of her hair, of rust, not of blood. She had seen the sky rain blood before, it had been nothing like this. It had been a trick conjured by the hermit magician. Harmless.
With a shudder she realized the direction the storm had taken. It couldn't have been coming from the road, that was the opposite direction. It was coming straight from the Magic Wastes. Something had angered the very source of magic itself and the gods were pissed about it. There was no way now to check the wards on the cottage, she was too far away. The wards here were holding, nothing was fighting against them to get in. Small favors, she supposed. Anything that hadn't been inside when it started probably wouldn't be walking anymore right now. What few animals there were here knew better than to be out in the open for storms. Travelers were warned and those who ignored the warnings were usually looted soon after the storms passed. The lucky ones were dead by then. She'd seen more than a few wanderers through her part of the forest after a storm, walking aimlessly with a blank look in their eyes.
It passed quickly, the fury dissipating into the air. She tested the air outside. There was still the crisp feel of wild magic but it was no longer dangerous. Now she had to get back to the cottage and pray that everything had been secured properly.
Clint was waiting on the front step when she returned. She could see the tracks in the mud where he had been pacing from the doorway to the trailhead into the forest, though he would probably deny being worried if asked. "Where have you been?" he asked.
"We needed more fruit. With some of your recent attempts to learn spells I couldn't risk getting any near here. Too much loose magic. Can't risk it. I got to a cave. How did you fare?" She walked past him into the house and began emptying her bag. There were at least five different kinds of berries. Some were for eating, others were for dyeing fabrics, and yet others were to make into medicinal compounds to sell next time she went to the city. Or, rather, next time Clint went to the city.
He followed her and helped her sort. He hadn't yet learned which berries would be for what but they were easy to tell apart. "I did what you told me. Get inside, shutter the windows, bar the doors, throw as many protective wards as possible against it all, and pray." She hadn't taught him to pray, that had been the upbringing in the city. Still, it never hurt, at least if the gods listened. That's what Bruce always said anyway. He was a smart man. She'd have to pay him a visit later and bring Clint along. It was time the two of them met. "Was it bandits?"
"No, it came from the Waste Lands," she said calmly. Though magic storms weren't all that uncommon, storms from the Waste Lands were rare. She only remembered one other in her lifetime and she had been a very small girl at the time. That was when she lost her mother and her father had become something closer to one of the wandering idiots than the man he had been before. "We survived, that's the important part. We're here. How's the broth coming along?"
Clint jumped up and hurried into the kitchen. The pot was hanging over the hearth, boiling down the last of the bones and fat from their last hunt. Natasha always liked to keep broth on hand, it was one of the easiest ways to make a potion base. It hid a lot of flavors that would otherwise make a potion impossible to swallow. "It looks good." He stirred it, the fat was starting to stick to the sides of the pot and some had sunk to the bottom, but it wasn't a disaster. "Should be ready tonight."
"Good. Tomorrow we go check on Bruce. You need to meet him, I need to talk to him."
He came back and continued sorting the berries. "About the storm?" There wasn't much else that would be a new topic of conversation. She had just been to see him last week. He had only seen her visit him six or seven times in the past year, though she always said he was a wonderful resource in case of emergency.
"About the storm. And I told him I'd bring him some soup base." She grabbed one of the bowls of berries and wrapped it in waxed cloth. "Take the red berries, that bowl there. Go wash them all in the cistern but don't crush any of them."
He stared at her. "Wouldn't the stream be easier?"
"Probably, but the stream is teeming with all sorts of excess wild magic from the storm and the cistern has wards of protection built into it. I need to know exactly what kind of magic is getting into my potions if we're going to keep selling them to the traders. If one thing goes wrong my potions will be banned from Toso and then I'll only have one line of trade, and that's if Errip doesn't ban them as well. Bad idea, poison the clients you're trying to heal." Errip was a distant city but much larger than the one they lived by. Its markets were welcoming and she had friends there who would sell her potions for as long as they could.
Right. He should have thought of that. "Yes ma'am."
Natasha took her time to look around while he was outside. The rest of the berries could be washed tomorrow but those she needed to start preparing tonight. The wards in the house were still strong, he had done a good job of holding them while she was gone. She hadn't wanted to take an apprentice but he had saved her life. He also had a great deal of skill and couldn't stand the Council of Mages. That was always a plus in her eyes. He had zero experience in the wildlands but was a quick study and eager to learn. She owed it to him to keep him alive as long as she could.