13 Summer, 515 AV
15th Bell, Afternoon
15th Bell, Afternoon
Bayon and Pearl rode in silence for more than thirty chimes in a westerly direction from the gates. Pearl had her herbalism book in her right hand, using her thumb to turn the pages as they rode. She wasn’t affected by the silence, but used it to her advantage instead. Bayon was a strong presence, even when quiet. Pearl couldn’t help but to notice the way he held himself, unyielding against any threat that may present itself, yet fluid in his motions as he rode upon the back of his horse. The realization brought another smile to Pearl’s lips.
They stopped when they reached The Skeleton Tree and dismounted. Pearl slid down from Knox’s back easily and took her hatchet out of the saddle bag, exchanging it with her herbalism book. The stallion was given an affectionate pet as she slid her hand down his shoulder and over his neck. The tree, when she approached it, was given the same affectionate caress, her hand sliding over the bark of a branch as she felt the roughness of it. Pearl looked at the branches and the way they twisted and wrapped themselves around one another. It was a beautiful mess; she almost didn’t want to take the bark that she came to gather. Almost.
Pearl raised the hatchet and began to chop at the tree branches in an attempt to strip some of the bark from the tree. She heard Bayon bark a small laugh and quickly stifle it. “You’re welcome to come help me at any time, you know,” she called back to him as she tried again with her hatchet to knock away a strip of bark.
“Give me that before you chop off a finger instead of the bark from the tree,” Bayon said from beside her.
“Very well, then.” Pearl handed over the hatchet and took a step back away from him. “Several pieces of the bark please, about the size of the palm of your hand. Oh, and a small limb, about so big.” She held up her hands several inches apart to demonstrate how long she wanted it to be. “Perhaps a little longer in case the carving doesn’t go well, and about the size of a finger should do.”
Bayon made short work of Pearl’s requests and piece by piece he handed her the bar, then the stick she asked for. “Dare I ask what the stick is for?”
“I’m hoping to make a small tool with it. With the healing properties of the tree, I thought a tool made of the wood would be useful when removing objects from scrapes and such, you know, when they get embedded into the skin,” she tried to explain to him, but was met with a look from Bayon that clearly said he didn’t know. “Anyway, I am going to give it a try.”
The pieces of bark and the limb were placed in saddle bag along with her hatchet as she withdrew her blank journal and an ink stick. Balancing her book against Knox’s side, she sketched out a small picture of The Skeleton Tree, then wrote down everything she had been told about the properties of the tree: Grind the bark into a fine powder. Only a small pinch of the power should be used to help cure a headache or a toothache. Too much could be deadly. Pearl closed her journal and replaced it in the saddle bag along with the other items, retrieving her herbalism book, then mounted back up. “I think I saw some Curcuma longa along the West bank of the lake.”
“Okay,” Bayon responded as he mounted up.
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