Field Notes II

I have been slogging through marshlands for the last three days, and I still have a week of travel before I reach Marquet. This is what I get for deciding to take the back road instead of taking the lane like a normal traveler. I was so excited about the nature and the mud and the funny trees that grow out in the wetlands, I completely forgot about the nhipids.

Generally speaking, I don't mind bugs. I'm out traveling a good chunk of the time, and you don't pick a career that requires sleeping rough if you have a severe aversion to things with more than two legs.

But the nhipids, Dys alive! I swear, if I find one more of these little bastards in my boot I am going to launch the damn thing into the nearest bog. Not even intentionally, it will just happen the second my heel connects with all those teeth. Frankly, it's a feat of restraint and patience on my part that I haven't squished one already.

But that's the thing with nhipids. They're colony creatures- you squish one, you make an enemy of them all. Which is incredibly inconvenient when they're the size of a button and composed mostly of teeth. I spent fully half a bell coaxing one out of the sleeve of my jacket yesterday morning. Miserable.

When I get back to civilization I am buying a puff net and billing it to Al, that'll do it. I don't care if I have to drape it over me like one of those shrouds those buckwild courtiers use to hide their faces while they eat endangered birds, if it will keep these things out of my hair while I sleep it will be worth it.

On the positive side, I lost whatever tail the shitwizard put on me about a half-league out of Hamitsdown. Wuss. I'm not surprised. Darnas doesn't seem the type to work long-distance, and honestly I don't think anyone working for him is paid highly enough to get knee deep in. . . whatever I've been kicking through these days.

As mucky and bug-filled as it may be, I'll still arrive at Marquet's farm in plenty of time to do some real kicking around for a few days. Get the lay of the land, maybe try some mushrooms. Provided they are a) safe for consumption and b) he doesn't see me eat anything that usually ain't. I've never had a blue tri-cap, I wonder what one of those would do to me. The red ones just make my eyesight go double for like an hour.

I haven't decided what I want to focus on for this interview. I'm interested in Marquet's whole mushroom raising thing, for sure, but where am I going with it, you know? Probably what he's growing and why it would be worth poking at, maybe something in there about his farm hands, how he got started, how his goals for long-term, etcetera. I will think on this as I hike- we're uphill and sticky today.

Dysthet, I hope Al never sees this. He hates my "unedited shitstack". Or, as I like to call it, my notebook.

Okay, so, as I sit here huddled in my insufficiently warm packnest (I had to add on padding to stop shivering- haven't pulled that trick in a bell or two) at ass-o'clock in the morning, once again attempting to will a hot beverage to appear in my hand (still can't light fires with mind, still trying), I have been struck with the uncomfortable knowledge that I. . . don't actually like how close to Desire's tower I am going to have to pass today.

It's not as bad as it could have been- she's closer to the main road than she is to this swamp by a couple of leagues, but I still hate it.

I did the calculations, and I should, theoretically, be out of her range by an acceptable margin. This is, or course, entirely dependent on her being in her tower while I pass (it's gonna take me at least the entire afternoon and a chunk of the evening), and banking on her not having extended her field too dramatically. Which, to be honest, would be a waste of energy, but that doesn't mean she wouldn't do it. She could easily give herself a boost by attaching some intention to one of her beasties, and if one of them gets close enough I'll. . . well, I might still be fine.

It's not like she'd recognize me, physically anyway. But I don't know how much of me Murdoch gave her, what she might of done with it, how attuned she is, or how interested their whole crew still is in me, or if they still have Sana on my ass about it- there are a lot of things I don't know, and I can feel myself spiraling about it. 

But this is why I travel light. I'll put on some muscle and start hauling ass, maybe I can get by before dusk falls.

One million cenz for me! We dropped down the last rise of the mountain and around Desire's wood in record time, and we’re nearly back into the marshes. I might even be abl-

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Okay, I definitely jumped the lede on that one. I just spent a disgustingly sweat-inducing three bells stuck up this tree while one of Desire's hounds took a nap not eight yards below me. The poor thing was half-baked and already rotting, she must have been running it hard for ages already. It was breathing so heavily, it must have lost half its ability to scent- it didn't so much as glance up my tree, which was a relief, sure, but doesn't speak well of Desire's care and keeping habits. Not that they were ever that good. I could have gone the rest of my life without being reminded of that smell.

It should be far enough gone now. I'm going to put a few more leagues behind me before I stop for the night, I think.

While this little jaunt may have been a closer call than I am comfortable with, the important part is that we're through it. Which I will continue to tell myself until I stop sweating.

I'm right around the ridge from Marquet's border, and I've spent long enough slogging through swamps and keeping off any path, trail, or otherwise way-marking route that I'm confident I'd have lost anything that might have been following me, just in case. It's poor form to bring trouble to interview subjects, and I'm not planning on starting today.

Afterwards I won't need to be anywhere with any hurry, so I think I'll take the long way back to Hamitsdown. Any distance I can keep between me and one of Murdoch's, the better.

EC