I didn’t have any tracking spells prepared, more fool I, but I didn’t think I’d need one to find the toads that had stolen Elisa, not with the careless way they’d left tracks. It was entirely possible they didn’t realize who- or more importantly what- I was, or what I could do. More fool them. And if I wasn’t able to track them the mundane way, I could always take the time to craft a spell. I would hate every moment spent doing it, but I could do it.
Even with a spell, however, tracking Elisa directly was out of the question; something about her nature caused magic to roll off her like water from oiled leather, perhaps because she was a magical creature, herself. Don’t think I hadn’t spent the first year of her life trying to charm her for protection (babies will hit their heads on things)- it simply didn’t work, which is why I’d been so adamant, as she grew, that she learn to be vigilant and able to defend herself. But it’s hard to be vigilant- or defensive- when you’re sleeping.
I slung the index bag crosswise between my breasts, then filled a more rugged pack with what I deemed the essentials. I briefly debated summoning an animal to carry me, but in the end rejected it; I would be working on such a small scale that anything large enough to carry me or my things might accidentally destroy the track. I’d go by food, and with any luck I wouldn’t be gone long enough to need more supplies than I could carry alone, anyway. Once I had Thomelisa safe in my pocket again, I could summon a beast to carry us home. So decided, I stuffed the spelled bridle in the top of the pack, extinguished the light in my brow (twenty minutes left), placed my hand on the corner of a shelf, and whispered the world that would take me back to my sitting room. It may seem extravagant to use magic to travel less than a hundred yards, but the oak roots had closed as soon as I’d passed them: magic was the only way back out into the light. One more layer of security; finding my arsenal didn’t mean you’d get to leave with any of it.
I changed my nightdress for a garment better suited to rough travel, settled the bag and pack once more, then went back out ot the garden to where the toad tracks disappeared into the herbs.
And then I turned right back around, and re-entered my cottage. On the off-chance that Elisa rescued herself before I could (and I held out hope she just might- my girl was no wilting lily), I must let her know where I had gone, and how to contact me. Her inability to use any of my spells frustrated me for a moment- if only we had a neighbor that might check in on the cottage, but I’d deliberately situated us off the common way. I dug my nails into the palms of my hands, eyes running over my house, trying to think up a way around the limitations- and then I spied the windowsill full of crystals, and I had it.
The crystals, as I’ve said, were not charged. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t be charged. In fact I’d used them for many, many spells in their time, and as a result they held charges quite easily now. It would be a simple matter to charge one with my own energy, then spell it to return the excess energy to me if the crystal were to break.
Quickly I jotted out a quick note to Elisa, telling her to push the crystal onto the floor below. The I grabbed a knife and slashed open my palm, and, using my freely-bleeding hand, I picked up the most delicate of the crystals, and began to craft. The crystal absorbed the energy- and the spell- easily, and once it was done I used it to weigh down the paper in the hollow of the shell where Elisa’s bed had lain. If she returned, she would find it, and she would break it, and I would know to return, myself. I only hoped no other creature would upend it in the meantime.
I grabbed a handkerchief I’d spelled to heal minor wounds, and used it to wipe my hand clean. By the time I was done, the cut was healed and the fabric mundane again. I tucked it into my pocket; I must remember to respell it when I got the chance.
Back in the garden, I sent a quick prayer to the triple-faced goddess, who looks after those smart enough to look after themselves, then got down on my hands and knees, and began to follow the indistinct smears and smudges. It was slow, frustrating work, as I had expected it to be, and my joints were beginning to ache as I approached the outskirts of what I considered my garden: a marshy, swampy stretch of land that eventually turned itself into a wide, pleasant stream.
Unfortunately, the silty water oozing up from the earth soon swallowed up the tracks completely. I sat back on my heels, black to my thighs and elbows with brackish mud, and considered my next move. Either the toads had stopped here, or they had moved forward, in the stream. It seemed perfectly reasonable to assume that they lived in this area: toads often lived in marshes, and the larger tracks were already showing signs of strains by the time they disappeared, indicating that perhaps the heavy load of the bed was taking its toll. I would try here first.
My first thought- to use a spell to draw out all the living inhabitants of the surrounding area, I dismissed immediately; this area would be too rich with life, overflowing with ordinary toads- not to mention insects, birds, snakes, and fish- and in the confusion my quarry might slip away once more.
Then I had it. One thing there would not be a lot of, in this place, were walnut shells. After Elisa had outgrown her original cradle, I’d carved her a new bed, using several shells instead of one. That bed was somewhere in this swamp, and since no self-respecting walnut would take root in such poorly-drained soil, I didn’t have to worry about overwhelming myself with options. If my daughter was still in her bed, so much the better- but I somehow doubted it.
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