A Kelpie of Rowan

Chapter 5

Rowan steps outside to sit by the rowan tree then stops in surprise. Her basket is sitting at the base of the tree, overflowing with various edibles. The basket's contents are neatly divided into sections, something Rowan never does. Handfuls of acorns, bundles of wood sorrel, large clumps of chanterelles, and wrapped in cloth, handfuls and handfuls of berries from the bramble patch. Who could have brought these? Just to be safe, Rowan thoroughly sprinkles salt over the items before shaking it out onto her coat, spread over her knees. Once all the salt is on her blanket, she carefully siphons it back into her bag. Rowan looks out at the forest, lit by the rising sun. Then she turns to duck inside.

"Mum? Where do you want to put these?"

Arwen turns and glances at the basket, her eyes widening in shock. "Can you put everything in the fridge? Leave the acorns out, we can start drying them."

Rowan nods and starts to remove the items from the basket. She wraps a string around the sorrel before placing it in the fridge. The chanterelles go in a brown paper bag. Rowan leaves the blackberries as they are, in the cloth.

Rowan's mother hums from behind her and Rowan turns from where she is dumping the acorns into a shallow dish.

"What is it, Mum?"

"I don't remember you going out to gather things, didn't you just step outside?" Rowan just shrugs, not knowing what to say. "Did you go back to find your basket?"

Rowan hesitates, but it's true. "Yes, I did go outside to find the basket."

"Are you going back out?"

Rowan nods. "Yes, but I'm not foraging. I just want to go for a walk."

Arwen raises an eyebrow. "Rowan. You have lessons."

"Not many! I'll be back by lunch."

Arwen sighs. "Very well."

Rowan smiles and darts out of the room and into her own. She scoops up a cloth bag, embroidered with red thread and carefully stitched four-leaf clovers. The beads sewn onto it are dried rowan berries. They clack together, the sound soft as the sigh of the wind. There is a bowl of hollow acorns on her desk and she dumps them into a cloth pouch. She grabs the bag of herbed sugar from beside them and tucks both pouches into the bag. Something makes a sound and she looks down to see the wicker basket bumping against the wooden sides of the desk.

Rowan frowns. She hadn't realized she was still holding it. At the bottom of the basket is a fresh leaf. It's a good one for writing on, so Rowan tucks it into a small pocket of her bag. Rowan places the basket on the floor beside the desk and readies her protective charms. Both socks are turned inside out, her red bracelet is on her wrist. Two bags of salt this time, and iron in both her pockets. The iron cuff is still on her wrist and the rowan berry necklace is slung around her neck. She pauses for a moment to readjust it, making sure the clover is resting beneath her collarbone.

Rowan slips her shoes onto her feet and darts out of the room. She leaves her torn coat on the bed, grabbing her spare, sage green coat from the doorknob. From behind her, the wind stirs throughout the room. The salt grains on the window stir, but not enough to clearly break the line. Rowan steps out the back door, the one beside her room. The yard encircles the entire house, but it is shallower here than in the front. Despite that, it's a better place for Rowan's garden, shaded by the house in the hottest portions of the day.

One one side of the garden, she has herbs. Thyme, rosemary, sage, turmeric, parsley, lavender, mint, coriander, and so many more. Her favorite of them all is lemon verbena, she even has a smaller pot of it in her room. Her vegetable garden is more basic, full of things like carrots, potatoes, tomatoes, and lettuce. If there wasn't a wall around the house's courtyard, the wild rabbits in the forest would probably devour all of Rowan's plants. She unlatches the gate quietly and slips outside. The forest ahead is dark, even with the sunlight doing its best to pour light through the trees.

Rowan steps through the tree line and into the shade of the woods. She can smell the earthiness of it. She can always smell it, but it is so much more prominent here, beneath the trees themselves. The earth is loamy, good for growing things. There is a circle of trees nearby, the place where Rowan normally leaves her sugar acorns for the faeries. She does the same today, despite her aversion. But when she steps through the circle of trees and into the small clearing, she doesn't see the blurs of color that indicate the fae. She sees them in all their details.

Many of the faeries are sprites and other small fae, they are the most comfortable with being close to human settlements. Rowan smiles at them and sits on the earth, pulling out the two pouches from her shoulder bag. She removes her shoes and socks, letting the faeries see her. When you wear something inside out, it makes you invisible until the item is removed or you make yourself known to the faeries. The faeries start chattering between themselves when they see what she has brought, their voices musical.

One hands her a tiny wooden spoon to scoop out the sugar with. She gives that faerie the first acorn. The little woman takes it gratefully, her insubstantial body as see-through as the air when the sun's rays hit it and illuminate the dust. Rowan gets through all the acorns quickly with the help of the tiny spoon, it is just enough for all the faeries. Rowan moves to hand it back to the air sprite but she shakes her head, motioning for Rowan to keep it. Rowan nods and stands, careful not to hurt any of the small creatures with her motions. When she turns around, she finds the black horse from before standing just outside the circle of trees, watching her.
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What do you think of the sprites/little fae? Why was the horse watching her? Tell me your thoughts!

Happy reading and I'll see you next chapter!

~Goddess of Fate, signing out.