In Which I Am Comforted By A Pungent Friend

I spent the rest of the afternoon in a fog of grief-induced mania, periodically attempting to leap out of the moving cabbage in a bid to abandon society and ‘live with the animals’. I don’t remember saying this, but Selladore assures me I was gibbering for hours about my longing to integrate myself with the wolves that roam the forests of the Valley Road. In the end my companions grew weary of my escape attempts and strapped me to the roof of the carriage. I don’t know why they had to shackle me spread eagled across the rounded top of the cabbage instead of just tying me to the seat inside, but whatever.

I lay on the roof through the day, watching the clouds and treetops drift by. I felt calmer after a few hours. It started to rain for a little while, which was unpleasant. Later on a bird with bright blue feathers fluttered down and settled on my chest, where it sang a sweet, mournful song. I began to wonder whether the little bird could be the spirit of one of my ancestors, come to console me in my time of need, but then it started pecking at my eyes and I was forced to headbutt it off me.

We set up camp in the woods as the sun slipped away, and I was untied at last, however I was so used to the roof of the cabbage by then that I opted to stay up there, sprawled on my back beneath the stars, listening to my companions talk.

Boomlay was talking about her eldest granddaughter, and how the young tearaway had rejected witchhood, gone completely off the rails, and joined a nunnery. Every now and then Boomlay or Selladore would come to check up on me, but I didn’t much feel like talking. I earwigged their conversation into the wee small hours of the night, and when they one by one fell to snoozing, I lay awake and tried to count the stars. I got to 38 but then got all flustered because they all look the same and I couldn’t remember which ones I’d already counted, and in the end it just made me stressed. I lay there on my cabbage bed and let out a long groan, like the strain of an old stool under an especially stout pair of buttocks.

“You alright, mate?” came a little voice from below.

I rolled over and peered over the edge of the cabbage. In the blue-black night I saw the skinny, bush-haired stable girl looking up at me quietly. She scratched her chin, waiting for a response. I hadn’t the foggiest idea what to reply to Glob. We’d never really been alone together for more than a couple of minutes.

Taken aback, I stammered my way through a response that in language suggested the positive but in tone confirmed the negative.

“Do you want to talk about it?” asked the stable girl.

I mumbled a useless response.

“Come on. We can go for a walk or summat.”

Glob started away from the carriage into the woods. It was pitch dark outside, yet she strode off without hesitation, away from the light of the fire, away into the creaking trees. I climbed down and hurried alongside her.

“Where are we going? We’ll get lost.”

“We passed a nice spot on the way here, while you was on the roof. Don’t worry. The glow worms will lead us back.”

As she spoke she nodded to the muddy banks and verges we were winding along. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the low light, but soon there crept into existence a dozen, a hundred, a thousand blue lights, peppering the undergrowth, all pulsing gently. We followed the little glowing worms under the dark canopy, winding through the woods, until the glow from the fire had disappeared entirely. Glob didn’t speak, and though I had a thousand pains in my chest I felt stupid leaping into yet another conversation about my aching heart, and so determined the best thing to do was shut up and follow.

Before long we reached a clearing with a large, smooth boulder in the middle. Moonlight clung to its surface, tugging gently at patches of snug moss. Glob climbed up onto it and, seeing my struggles with only one hand, helped me up after her. We sat apart, facing one another, cross legged. Strange croaks and whistles came from the trees as nocturnal critters discussed their plans for the evening. Glob stretched and yawned.

“My dad died,” said Glob. “His heart gave out nine years ago. I were 12. So I know pretty well how it feels to lose someone. Bit different, obviously, but yeah.”

The suddenness of this caught me off guard. It hung in the air for a long moment.

“Oh, Glob, I’m so sor–”

My mind flashed back to our first night on the Great Valley Road. She had been whittling a statue to pray for her father, and I made her throw it on the fire. My heart flipped in my chest.

“Oh Gods, the statue! I–”

“It’s alright. I were proper mad at you at the time – and a few times since – but it’s okay. I think you’re an idiot, but I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

“I don’t know what to say, Glob. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, honestly. I just wanted to tell you about it because, when me dad died, I felt really alone. There wasn’t really anyone to talk to about it, and it drove me kind of crazy. So I just want to tell you, if you want to talk, talk. I know I don’t speak much, but I’m a good listener.”

“Do… do you need money? Are your family alright?”

“It’s just me. And I’m fine. I’ve enough money for meals and a roof over my head. Here, can we stop talking about me please? I were worried about you when you disappeared.”

“You were?”

“Well, yeah. I thought you were a proper twat at first like, don’t get me wrong,” shrugged my stable girl. “But I reckon you loved the Queen, and I reckon you’re hurting pretty bad. When Boomlay joined us and we had that row and you stormed off, I had a little think. And I remembered how you tried to sort them people out in the ice town – it didn’t work, but you give it a go. And you helped save us from that big murder bird in the desert, sort of. And I thought, really, if you look proper close, you’re not that much of a twat. You just do a good impression of one.”

I was glad it was dark, because I was quite certain that my facial expression at that moment would have looked deeply foolish – slack and gawping and grateful. I became coy.

“Thank you Glob.”

“No worries.”

“I really miss her.”

“I know you do.”

I let out a long, loud breath and picked up a small stone beside me, turning it over in my hand.

“I suppose I need to find someone else now,” I said. “I don’t even know where to begin looking.”

I’d barely finished my sentence before Glob punched me (surprisingly hard, actually) in the arm.

“Knock it off,” she said.

“Ow!” I cried, rubbing my bicep. “What?”

“Why are you so convinced you need someone? Why can’t you just be alone for a while?”

“Alone?”

“Yes, alone! Don’t say it like it’s a dirty word. I’m alone. Look at me. Do you see some love-shaped void here?”

“No…” I said, tentatively.

“Cause I made myself full. I found things I loved – horses, books, friends and that – and I gave myself to them, and they filled me up. I’m alone, yeah, and I’ve got enough. They’re not mutually exclusive.”

Void? Mutually exclusive? I hadn’t known Glob’s vocabulary to be so extensive (it didn’t feel prudent to say it though).

“I’m sorry,” I sighed. “Maybe you’re right. It’s just hard.”

“I know mate, I know. Losing someone is always hard.”

“It hurts so much. Even when I smile and laugh and I seem okay–”

“–you ache all over and every smile feels forced. It’s normal.”

At that, the tranquillity of the starlit sky was broken by a heavy footed coven of witches tramping into the clearing, lugging a large black cauldron. They stopped midstep when they saw us.

“Oh, er, are you going to be here long?” said a tall witch in an inky black cloak. “It’s just that we were hoping to perform an ancient blood-curse while the full moon is out.”

“Could you gi’ us five minutes?” asked Glob.

The witches apologised and backed out of the clearing, at which point one of the potcarriers tripped over a tree root and went tumbling knees over bosoms, with the cauldron plonking heavily on top of her. Faint banging and muffled shrieks came from within, and as I watched with the witches grunting and straining to lift it off her, I pictured her thrashing around inside like a wasp in an upturned pint glass. Once upon a time the thought would have amused me. Now I just felt a bit sad.

I still managed a yelp of laughter, of course, but it was hardly anything compared to brighter days. Astra days.

“Do you think Vena will treat her well?” I asked the night, while the crickets chirped and the witches heave-hoed.

“Dunno. But she’s made her choice. You need to respect it.”

“You’re not saying the things I want to hear, Glob.”

“That’s because you want to hear that you can have her back. She’s gone, mate. I’m sorry.”

I sighed, Glob sighed, the witches sighed as they took a breather from trying to free their friend. The trees sighed, the wind sighed, the stars huffed and the moon hung its head.

“Hey,” said Glob. “Athelstan, don’t cry. It’s going to be alright.”

She leant forward and embraced me, and I buried my face in her shoulder.

“What has happened to me, Glob?”

“Same thing that happens to everyone.”

The witches were rallying themselves for one last, giant haul on the upturned cauldron. Glob and I broke apart, climbed down from the boulder, and Glob led the way back, navigating by the radiant stomachs of moss-clung larvae. As we left the clearing we heard a ‘thwop’ and a gasp of breath, followed by a chorus of eldritch cackles and cheers.