Zeal awoke to an uncanny silence so still as to set him on edge. It was unnatural.
Zeal scanned the room and seeing nothing out of the norm, slowly lowered himself back onto the plume bol that Vye had conjured up. He was just about to pull the dense fluff of downy fibers over himself and go back to sleep, for it was still too early, and too cold for that matter, to be awake.
Yet something seemed out of place.
Vye.
He shot up.
The small Shol wasn't where he had lain down that evening.
Had they been found? How? They had been so careful in keeping him literally under wraps. That someone could have uncovered them, and have skill to have snuck in, taken the Shol, and left without his notice--or perhaps that fool Shol hadn't learnt a thing from the incident in Black Burrows.
Moreover to have the audacity to target a ward under his protection. The mere thought seemed unfeasible, but the world was full of fools, and Shols were highly sought after. Particularly an unmarred, live specimen such as Vye, who would doubtlessly fetch a king's ransom. The temptation was high.
Whoever it was, there would be hell to pay. He went over the possibilities. Could it have been someone from before? The darkened expression that flitted across his face quick replaced by perplexity as some of the incessant and particularly trying individuals from their journey thus far came to mind. None of them matched.
He cursed the Shol for stopping him from disposing of their pursuers. It would've made things so much easier if he had.
Zeal was about to jump up when a small weight against his side gave him pause.
Dark eyes glanced down at the small shape huddled on the mote beside him.
Relief swept through him and his body grew lax with it. The alarm had been for naught, for the familiar small lump of his companion was huddled in the white wisps beside him. He wouldn't have to scour half the city searching for his companion.
He lay back down with a huff. Such peaceful and comfortable nights while on an assignment were a rare treat in his line of work. The Shol's magic certainly made things easier, their living accommodations an extension of his senses that would alert the Shol of any intruders. Zeal needn't remain vigilant throughout the whole night and could sleep proper.
Yet this was odd. The Shol did not move much in his sleep, and to go from the other puff to his meant he'd been up and about.
"Vye."
The lump twitched.
He was awake at least, but feigning sleep. Zeal nudged the Shol nonetheless, having learned to play along with these facades, for it unnerved the Shol and made him wary when Zeal read him too well.
"Vye, what is it?"
The Shol sat up and he saw the huddled shoulders and thin pressed lips.
Ah.
"... Come here." Zeal held his cloak open, grimacing at the frosty nip as the chill air rushed in, and his companion dove in.
The small form melted against him and he heard the soft sigh of contentment as the flap of his cloak fell to envelope Vye in a shroud of warmth.
Shols, while able to tolerate the cold to some extent, resented it greatly.
Producing little warmth themselves, the first onset of frost on the grass and Winter's harbinger found the poorly prepared Shol sluggish. Enduring prolonged chills made them susceptible to sickness, and would eventually see the Shol succumbing to hibernation where they would remain dormant until the air grew warm with the Spring.
Such hibernations helped the Lowland Shols to survive the harsh Winters where vegetation couldn't normally endure.
While the onset of Winter hadn't quite reached them yet, traveling to Whitedew Grove meant ascending the mountain trails of Sherpa's Passing before they could reach the forest's edge.
The ascension had been rough on Vye, and the transition of blazing desert heat to the bitter cold of the high alps meant the induction of an artificial Winter. Worse still, ascending the high altitudes meant a sharp contrast of colder and oftentimes unpredictable weather.
Keeping Vye from succumbing to his innate urge to sleep had been difficult, to say the least. Even during the day, the meek sun did little to warm them. The nights were worse still.
Lately he would hold his coat open and allow Vye to curl against him for warmth, but exhausted as he was the evening before, he had fallen against the plumy bol and been asleep before complete sundown.
Zeal leaned back into their makeshift bedding, waiting for Vye as the young Shol tried to get comfortable.
It was mildly amusing to watch the lump shift, pause, and shift again. There was a disgruntled huff and airy hiss as his diminutive charge found him unaccommodating, grumping that Zeal wasn't soft enough.
Spoiled thing.
He chuckled, a low raspy sound in the stillness, "Sorry, I'm not soft."
Vye gave a discontented grumble and scuffed at his belly.
Though sleeping on the luxuriously plush and downy fibers of the bols, Zeal had to admit that he himself was finding it harder to sleep on the ground cover, having tasted and grown accustomed to such indulgence.
When at last Vye had made himself comfortable he sighed. Parting a slit in Zeal's cloak the Bræmbel Shol poked his nose through the opening, and promptly fell asleep thereafter.
Very spoiled thing.
Zeal snorted and lay back. Now that he was wide awake, falling back asleep felt like a hassle of effort in itself.
His familiar was within easy reach, as it always was, but maintenance would jostle the sleeping form currently making use of his warmth.
Dark eyes stared at the foliage that adorned his head, colored with a pale green pallor. But the green was still much more welcome than the progression of mottled patches of red and gold.
Fool should've just helped himself instead of shivering against him. It was progressing far too fast.
The Shol had hid his condition from him for a large part of their ascent, and it was only after the lethargic spells got out of hand and Zeal turned to find his charge missing that he confronted him.
Those had been some tense few minutes as he worked through relentless snowfall, calling for his companion, and backtracking on the path he'd razed through. The snow was waist high for him and plain buried the other, and in the continued icy sleet, Time was precious.
Zeal found him laying still on the path he'd made. The snow that was already as tall as he was, continued falling and had nearly covered the small Shol. Hastily pulling him out, it had startled him when the torpid Shol's eyes blinked blearily up at him and he suddenly sprung to life, scrabbling at him and crawling into his coat, impelled by the tantalizing warmth that seeped through.
After that incident Zeal would shove the Shol into the pack underneath his fur cloak, carrying him while on the move. Though it was slow going, he wouldn't lose his charge to the cold of all things.
But even that might not be enough.
Despite their preparation and gear there was no stopping nature. Vye's body would soon follow its natural inclination and fully pass into the autumnal coat by which were their last consciousness before Shols would overwinter. Once preparations were complete and photosynthetic processes stopped completely, he would then fall into a lengthy, undetermined sleep, the extent of which varied greatly by circumstance.
Given how poorly the Shol had fared lately, there came a very real possibility that it may be one he would not rouse from, and Vye himself seemed to be resisting the compelling urge of instinct with something more than just a reluctance for the cumbersome grips of sleep.
This speculation was only solidified by the underlying note of urgency as Vye urged Zeal onward to cover as much ground as the scant light of day permitted.
Just as it had been with the nectar collection before, this had come about from a slip in judgement.
He hadn't realized just how vulnerable Lowland Shols, such as Vye, could be to the cold.
It was Zeal who pushed them to continue rather than wait for the harshest of Winter's passing, a decision in part due to the Time it would take, and Vye's claims back in the desert of how urgent it was for them to get to Whitedew. The extensive Winter in the Alps lasted more than just a few turns of the moon as it
Though he'd pressed the young Shol on multiple occasions, Vye could tell him little more than that something was "calling to him".
Though he hadn't mentioned again how crucial it was that they hurry, the young Shol did not welcome rest and was reluctant to break camp, oft staring at the white-tipped peaks far in the distance in a daze.
Irritating blunder it was then that he had overlooked the obvious in front of him.
The Shol had been crestfallen at the snow and resigned to waiting.
But something in his disappointment and desperation spurred Zeal to press on, after all it was nothing the Seeker couldn't handle. And Vye, though not without his hesitation, obliged.
Once a Shol considered another within the bounds of friendship, their love was near unconditional. Not that they set a high bar, but Vye's experience had certainly raised it.
More and more, Vye had been warming to him, and a Shol's affection is a warmth that few could resist. Fewer still would ever be able to resist it.
Zeal had thought himself an exception. And he still is.
And slowly, did Vye place a tentative trust in the mercenary's judgement, entrusting his safety to Zeal's preparations.
Only, reality catered to none, and certainly not the clique romanticism of love and friendship triumphing against all adversity.
In a way, he hadn't been wrong. The harsh climes were nothing to him. Vye however, was a different story. He had grossly underestimated how strongly the cold front and ice would impact Vye.
Zeal ran his fingers through the foliage, weeding out leaves that were already much too weak. He had seen the Shol prune himself more and more often in the past week of travel. With their current situation it was simpler to lose leaves. It took tremendous stores to upkeep his foliage in this environment, so the fewer there was to sustain, the better.
Worse still, was the excessive heat and sun of the desert a week prior, which had instigated an abrupt plethora of burgeoning. A flurry of growth that not only consumed much of Vye's energy, but which would give little return, if not wither away. Most of it already had, but it taken its toll.
Even staying awake seemed to be taxing these days, and while plentiful foliage generally indicated good health, at the moment the weakening leaves were discolored. Excessive and unsustainable.
Doubtlessly, Vye would need his strength for when they arrived. Expend too much of himself now and they could forget the fairy ri--
Zeal jerked back. Something sharp sliced deep into his finger. So sharp was it that it had cut clean to the bone, without nary a sting, until stopped by the blunt of bone.
Dark red droplets blossomed along his finger under his incredulous stare. The cut itself was invisible. Would still be had the sanguine beads not traced along the injury.
That had felt almost like bloodthorn. A particularly pernicious plant to the unawares that grew deep in the thickets of the flooded mires of the lowlands. But Vye was a...
On that thought, what was Vye's subspecies? Some kind of angiosperm that he didn't recognize. Come to think of it he had wondered about it before. Zeal was no stranger to botanical studies. Only fools wouldn't furnish their arsenal with such vital skills when one had but their own resourcefulness to rely on.
That being said, he had thought it odd but hadn't questioned it then. There were more pressing matters.
The mercenary narrowed his eyes pensively at the crimson that now bled profusely. Carefully he parted the foliage to reveal, as his suspicions were, a thin curl of reddish bramble vine underneath the fuzzy broad leaves.
He knew nothing of the bloom the Shol exhibited. But it definitely wasn't bloodthorn.
There were few things that the vast Archives and their extensive network had properly confirmed and concluded to be definite regarding Shols, with the following distributed amongst dispatched reapers in the Harvest Moon to match the high demand with an ample supply.
Zeal gingerly pulled out a creased sheet, wary of the crimson droplets blossoming along his finger.
Harvest Moon
Enclosed is a brief overview of the Grand Archive findings to aid you in the Hunt. May your efforts bear fruit.
Zeal scoffed, amused. How sinister. Was the pun an intentional jab at the quarry? He skimmed through the overview of Harvesting until he found the general entry section he was looking for.
A Shol in their entirety contain potent properties and care should be taken to harvest a Shol whole as to leave nothing behind and prevent any waste of rS commodity.
Warning: Do not handle a Shol unprotected. Threatened Shols gain toxicity and will release miasma. Effects vary.
Shols thrive in warmer climates and strongly detested the cold. As such they will actively seek light and warmth. Being highly inquisitive creatures, arming an orbling lantern or conjuring up firefly lights with a heating element on a cold night is a highly effective method in luring out Shols. Anomalies: Cloudburst, Dewfern, Holly, most Conifers
Warning: Shols are wont to wander far from their Circle, and when threatened, will call for the aid of the pack. Care should be taken for the lone hunter, as the likelihood of swarming is all but guaranteed.
Shols have high aetherical tolerance and suffer no known detrimental affects to extensive aetherical influence. Keeping one in an ice chamber or the equivalent of by aetherical means, proves an effective method of storing and preserving Shols prior to consumption. Note however, that depending on the intended purpose, it may be prudent to prune the foliage beforehand as properties change with the onset of the autumnal overwintering coat. Care should be taken into proper identification of Shol subspecies. Anomalies: A reported case of a budded Shol-Ficklebrush subspecies
Shols are classified by their subspecies, of which are determined by their environment, oftentimes taking after flora found in the vicinity of the Fairy Ring. Shols do, however, also have a high genetic influence and can carry inherent traits of genetic influence.
While Sholian lore suggests at a variant, there are no reported cases of such genetic versatility, though a variety of closely related types may be exhibited by a given specimen, this trait does not extend beyond genus subspecies. Anomalies: n/a
Silently he carefully refolded the sheet.
While Shols themselves have been found with subspecies of just about every known plantae and fungi, individuals were of a single genus at the most, determined by both environmental and genetic influence. In short, they oftentimes took after flora found in the vicinity of the Fairy Ring if not from the fruiting Shols themselves.
Bloodthorn was most definitely not under the same classification as Vye's topiary.
Deft hands sifted the leaves and marveled at the multitude of foliage hidden underneath the top layer.
There were few things that the Shol withhheld from him. Zeal had stated that ignorance in their journey was a dangerous possession to indulge and the Shol had no objection, providing answers where they were needed.
This seemed like a huge oversight.
But he leaned back on the fluff, clearly the Shol thought it wasn't any of his business.
But this could account for why Vye seemed so much more susceptible to the cold. It hadn't been his mistake entirely, but a result of information withheld as it often was with dubious clients.
Of course he had been unmistakably at fault, at least in part. There was no excusing that he overlooked the concerns of his charge and put them at risk. After all, one judges by the end result, not the means.
It did however, appease him a little.
Though it answered little to nothing, he knew the most he could at the moment, and whatever else he would just have to trust Vye to tell him.
Eventually.
