[Wild Roses] Trickwood Unification
Title: trap time
'Verse/characters: Trickwood Unification; Hernén, Geoffrey
Prompt: 63F "notice"
Word Count: 1286
Notes: dormouse_in_tea: "the one where something which was stolen is found by someone else and wanders off, provoking much consternation. also hitting."
After lifeline, where Ulysse brings Geoffrey out to Hernén, before Belladonna and Geoffrey talk directly for the first time (and Belladonna wonders what the hell is wrong with the magebloods' parents).
Okay, so third wasn't working great. Let's try first, shall, we? Failing that, hard cider ftw.
---------
"Hey, Hernén?" Geoffrey asked from the propped-open door of the gar. When I glanced up, he was still hovering, silhouetted against the late-afternoon sun. Didn't trust the construction enough to lean into the doorframe the way he would've in the Keep, or the way felt might respond to a knock, which would've been funny if I hadn't done the same thing the first few times we'd assembled one of these.
"Oui?" I replied, leaning up and cracking my spine in a few places as I did. Huh. Been hunched over the Tall Pines map longer than I'd realised. I stretched out my fingers, spread and closed them a few times after beckoning him in.
Once he'd picked his way to the other side of the table through the maze of regional sketches I'd absently scattered on the floor, he sat down in the other chair, leaned back, then tilted his head, thoughtful. "Are wolves prone to ignoring closed latches?"
I blinked. "In what sense? If we're talking about bandages or burn lotion or the like, they're more likely to let you know they've gotten into the box after whoever needed it is patched up. If they're after something that goes squeak and nibbles our grain stores, they're definitely prone to ignoring closed latches. I almost set Rhea on fire when she went after a mouse by going between me and the shells I was loading--" that hadn't been a good moment. She looked about seven when she was on two legs "--but otherwise, I haven't heard about many problems. Why?"
"Well," he drawled, letting the word roil for a moment between us, and I automatically moved something heavy onto my papers, because when Ulysse did that he had a tendency to call breezes. He cut off, half-laughing, moved my box of pencils onto the sheet I couldn't reach, then said "Whenever I do tallies on supplies, they don't line up right."
" . . So your first thought was that the wolves were stealing?" I made it a question because I didn't want to have to lump my brother in with people I couldn't count on, I really, really didn't--
He looked shocked. "No!"
"That is what you just said, brother mine," I pointed out, and he winced.
"I thought it might have been a cultural mismatch," he apologised, "not theft as such."
I pinched the bridge of my nose with my fingers, glad that Belladonna wasn't lurking under the table. She'd have bitten his knee by now. "Tack back to the beginning, would you? When did you notice the tallies starting to go odd?"
"Five days?" he guessed, then pulled out a case I would have assumed held cards. When he opened it, I saw it was split evenly between paper--stitched together along an edge so he could flip back and forth without risking a sheet to a breeze--and a set of tally-cords. He hooked one of the cords out with a pencil stub, spread it out, then flipped back a couple of pages in the booklet, nodded. "Five days. We came up short on four of the spices and the salt. The next day we came up long on two of the spices, and short on sausages. The day after that it was a box of apples--" he broke off when I groaned and dropped my head into my palm.
"We found the apples yesterday," I explained when I looked back up. "They were in a box labeled 'guncotton'. I think Niall might have found the salt, too--I saw him chasing a couple of pups this morning."
"So now we're missing guncotton?" Geoffrey demanded, appalled, which I had to admit was a fair point.
"If the pattern holds, we should see it in the next few days if we are. It might've been an empty box--that's what we assumed when we found the apples." I shrugged, then blinked, sat up. "Are you always losing supplies from the same place?"
"Non--wait, yes. We swapped out the cured meats after the sausages went missing, moved them to a sturdier case. I put one of Arianhrod's spider-threads across the door of the meat case, but the only people who've been through that lately were all on cooking duty."
"Huh. Why didn't you put one of the threads across your problem case?"
He waggled his hand, made a face. "Too many people through there too often. I'd have lost it as soon as I turned my back, because someone needed something. I tried putting one across last night when I went to bed, but someone brought down a boar around sunset and Usoa needed all the salt she could lay her hands on. I put in an order for more, by the way."
"I've got smokeless powder and tea coming in," I remembered out loud, and his mouth curled into a tiny grin.
"Better hope we're near the water when that comes in, or whoever has pick-up duty brought horses, I think someone might get bitten otherwise."
"Only if we forget to warn them," I corrected, smiling myself, then cracked my knuckles. "Sounds like it's time to lay traps."
He scowled, for a second the teenager I'd made sit through his first experiments with magic until something stuck. "You're better at them than I am, still," he told me, and I shrugged.
"Call when you expect to be done, and I'll walk you through?"
"Done," he nodded, rising, then paused, frowned. " . . and I'm sorry."
"Make up for it by asking one of them to feed you and the rest of the kitchen crew," I told him, feeling warm.
He did; when I came by that evening to help him set the traps he was still picking his teeth happily.
--
The next morning, I found Evescha on four feet and Ioann on two lurking outside the stores when I went to check the little snap traps I'd left. She was pacing back and forth along the path, criss-crossing her own tracks over and over again with her nose nearly flush to the ground, and he looked down from examining the roof to cast a curious eye over me as I approached.
I nodded politely, wondering if someone else had braided his hair--I'd never seen him in a dragonspine before--but before I could ask about it he said "Can you smell fox?"
When I glanced down, I found Evescha had paused, was looking up at me with the exact same shade of hope in her eyes as Ioann.
"Fox?" I asked back, and she glared at the ground between her feet.
"I could swear there was a fox here sometime last night," she complained, "but I can't figure out where they went, and Ioann's not even sure he smells fox!"
I had a sudden flash of mental lightning. "Ioann, can I get past you?"
Ioann dropped to all four feet, scrabbled out of my way. I heard him muttering to Evescha that now he could smell ozone, but ignored them both as I knelt to examine the traps.
Five of them--the big, obvious ones--were intact. The little ones scattered between the big ones, on the other hand, were cracked one after the other like someone had skipped a rock. Definitely not a wolf, the second-to-last trap should have set off a flare of light bright enough to blind, and any of the humans would have popped at least one of the bigger traps.
"Yeah, there's a fox around," I said, standing and turning around in time to see Evescha flip forms and punch Ioann triumphantly in a furry shoulder.
"I told you."
'Verse/characters: Trickwood Unification; Hernén, Geoffrey
Prompt: 63F "notice"
Word Count: 1286
Notes: dormouse_in_tea: "the one where something which was stolen is found by someone else and wanders off, provoking much consternation. also hitting."
After lifeline, where Ulysse brings Geoffrey out to Hernén, before Belladonna and Geoffrey talk directly for the first time (and Belladonna wonders what the hell is wrong with the magebloods' parents).
Okay, so third wasn't working great. Let's try first, shall, we? Failing that, hard cider ftw.
---------
"Hey, Hernén?" Geoffrey asked from the propped-open door of the gar. When I glanced up, he was still hovering, silhouetted against the late-afternoon sun. Didn't trust the construction enough to lean into the doorframe the way he would've in the Keep, or the way felt might respond to a knock, which would've been funny if I hadn't done the same thing the first few times we'd assembled one of these.
"Oui?" I replied, leaning up and cracking my spine in a few places as I did. Huh. Been hunched over the Tall Pines map longer than I'd realised. I stretched out my fingers, spread and closed them a few times after beckoning him in.
Once he'd picked his way to the other side of the table through the maze of regional sketches I'd absently scattered on the floor, he sat down in the other chair, leaned back, then tilted his head, thoughtful. "Are wolves prone to ignoring closed latches?"
I blinked. "In what sense? If we're talking about bandages or burn lotion or the like, they're more likely to let you know they've gotten into the box after whoever needed it is patched up. If they're after something that goes squeak and nibbles our grain stores, they're definitely prone to ignoring closed latches. I almost set Rhea on fire when she went after a mouse by going between me and the shells I was loading--" that hadn't been a good moment. She looked about seven when she was on two legs "--but otherwise, I haven't heard about many problems. Why?"
"Well," he drawled, letting the word roil for a moment between us, and I automatically moved something heavy onto my papers, because when Ulysse did that he had a tendency to call breezes. He cut off, half-laughing, moved my box of pencils onto the sheet I couldn't reach, then said "Whenever I do tallies on supplies, they don't line up right."
" . . So your first thought was that the wolves were stealing?" I made it a question because I didn't want to have to lump my brother in with people I couldn't count on, I really, really didn't--
He looked shocked. "No!"
"That is what you just said, brother mine," I pointed out, and he winced.
"I thought it might have been a cultural mismatch," he apologised, "not theft as such."
I pinched the bridge of my nose with my fingers, glad that Belladonna wasn't lurking under the table. She'd have bitten his knee by now. "Tack back to the beginning, would you? When did you notice the tallies starting to go odd?"
"Five days?" he guessed, then pulled out a case I would have assumed held cards. When he opened it, I saw it was split evenly between paper--stitched together along an edge so he could flip back and forth without risking a sheet to a breeze--and a set of tally-cords. He hooked one of the cords out with a pencil stub, spread it out, then flipped back a couple of pages in the booklet, nodded. "Five days. We came up short on four of the spices and the salt. The next day we came up long on two of the spices, and short on sausages. The day after that it was a box of apples--" he broke off when I groaned and dropped my head into my palm.
"We found the apples yesterday," I explained when I looked back up. "They were in a box labeled 'guncotton'. I think Niall might have found the salt, too--I saw him chasing a couple of pups this morning."
"So now we're missing guncotton?" Geoffrey demanded, appalled, which I had to admit was a fair point.
"If the pattern holds, we should see it in the next few days if we are. It might've been an empty box--that's what we assumed when we found the apples." I shrugged, then blinked, sat up. "Are you always losing supplies from the same place?"
"Non--wait, yes. We swapped out the cured meats after the sausages went missing, moved them to a sturdier case. I put one of Arianhrod's spider-threads across the door of the meat case, but the only people who've been through that lately were all on cooking duty."
"Huh. Why didn't you put one of the threads across your problem case?"
He waggled his hand, made a face. "Too many people through there too often. I'd have lost it as soon as I turned my back, because someone needed something. I tried putting one across last night when I went to bed, but someone brought down a boar around sunset and Usoa needed all the salt she could lay her hands on. I put in an order for more, by the way."
"I've got smokeless powder and tea coming in," I remembered out loud, and his mouth curled into a tiny grin.
"Better hope we're near the water when that comes in, or whoever has pick-up duty brought horses, I think someone might get bitten otherwise."
"Only if we forget to warn them," I corrected, smiling myself, then cracked my knuckles. "Sounds like it's time to lay traps."
He scowled, for a second the teenager I'd made sit through his first experiments with magic until something stuck. "You're better at them than I am, still," he told me, and I shrugged.
"Call when you expect to be done, and I'll walk you through?"
"Done," he nodded, rising, then paused, frowned. " . . and I'm sorry."
"Make up for it by asking one of them to feed you and the rest of the kitchen crew," I told him, feeling warm.
He did; when I came by that evening to help him set the traps he was still picking his teeth happily.
--
The next morning, I found Evescha on four feet and Ioann on two lurking outside the stores when I went to check the little snap traps I'd left. She was pacing back and forth along the path, criss-crossing her own tracks over and over again with her nose nearly flush to the ground, and he looked down from examining the roof to cast a curious eye over me as I approached.
I nodded politely, wondering if someone else had braided his hair--I'd never seen him in a dragonspine before--but before I could ask about it he said "Can you smell fox?"
When I glanced down, I found Evescha had paused, was looking up at me with the exact same shade of hope in her eyes as Ioann.
"Fox?" I asked back, and she glared at the ground between her feet.
"I could swear there was a fox here sometime last night," she complained, "but I can't figure out where they went, and Ioann's not even sure he smells fox!"
I had a sudden flash of mental lightning. "Ioann, can I get past you?"
Ioann dropped to all four feet, scrabbled out of my way. I heard him muttering to Evescha that now he could smell ozone, but ignored them both as I knelt to examine the traps.
Five of them--the big, obvious ones--were intact. The little ones scattered between the big ones, on the other hand, were cracked one after the other like someone had skipped a rock. Definitely not a wolf, the second-to-last trap should have set off a flare of light bright enough to blind, and any of the humans would have popped at least one of the bigger traps.
"Yeah, there's a fox around," I said, standing and turning around in time to see Evescha flip forms and punch Ioann triumphantly in a furry shoulder.
"I told you."