Applecap has also been entrusted with Bristletap’s shelf
Photos of a journey to the Old Witch’s Hut on Hearthgazer‘s map
A photo of, and notes on, a mending
1. to lift me up out of the clinging marsh.
2. A chance to grow and be better.
3. Replace with something different. Not better exactly. Just different.
4. Soot stained thread
5. Warm and free
6. It will rot away but will go back to soil. Under the sod. Away from me on the mountain.
Notes on a Drawn Thread ritual of repair (where their map meets Conebird‘s)
The Third Drop Inn burnt down.
The fire spread quickly spread.
The Bridge was severely damaged which might convince the locals to build another one.
Ferry system is setup.
The big field is for a FireWeed and there is new trees being planted.
The Wheel is moving to pump water for the first time anyone can recall.
The Farmer is getting a new house.
This Alongame saying
Always trap the bear, unless dark mountain is gladly climbed by shepherds
Photos and notes on a development in Alongame and related dedication (partially inspired by Scapelock‘s map)
The people seem very excited about the opening of a pub on the river. ‘The Third Drop’. Yes it rained and there was flooding but they make good food and the ale is cheap.
A sparrow, which makes this sound whenever anyone is near:
A mushroom poem, inspired by Bookfold‘s long dozen:
Shut hands held tight
The garden has began to turn now to rot
We did not pay attention and now is forever gone
A long dozen poem:
Light from the long dead stars glint on your rocks
Suppose it is my duty to mourn the lights and you
Notes on an acquaintance:
I walked into the woods in the North. There I found a small cottage and a person chopping wood. They said they were Chopper. They chopped. I laughed. It wasn’t a joke. It was a job. I told them I was a traveller, a storyteller. “A professional liar!” They said they knew my friend. “They too said things. Tales. Said they cured the sickness.” I said my name was AppleCap. “Another lie. What is your real name?” I said I wasn’t doing that. I knew the Fae and the demons. “Wouldn’t want it anyway.” Chopper seemed an odd mixture of trying to get me stay and making me leave. They took me to a small sprout in a ring of ash and burnt trees. “It is a rare seed. Hardly seen in these lands. It produces the most odd fruit. Sweet one bite, sour the next. The seed was carried in the dying talons of a phoenix.” Thus the ash. I told them about the Tree of 40 Fruit. Grafting buds on the tree. “Not magic though.” Why not? “Lots of questions.” Few answers. But true. No dying birds in my story. I made to leave. Chopper told me good riddance but to come back if I was in the area.
A map, with these notes attached:
Stay away from the owl. She is…complicated.
A cairn, telling this story:
A lover who walked away from a love triangle. They walked deep into the Under Hill and rested by the lake. The two remaining lovers made a happy home. Our Cairn Maker is yet to be seen again.