Warding Rite Aftermath Ⅲ

Appeased by what he saw, Firenze shakes his head causing the feathers in his hair to gently flutter. "I was much more at ease when I sensed the departure of the serpent of the distant sands." 

"As was I," Rowan admitted, before bowing to Shaman of the Centaur tribe rather than her friend. "I am glad to see you are well, Firenze."

 "I would offer my blessings, Firenze," Rowan pressed her lips into a grimace, "However, Aldonius's loss weighs heavily in mind. So instead, I offer my genuine condolences on his loss."

"Yes, such blessings would be most unwelcome," Firenze sadly sighed gazing at the old relics of Aldonius. "The loss of the Shaman is sorely felt among the tribe and by me, his successor."

Seeing that Firenze gestured at her to sit down, Rowan plops down onto a comfy cushion. "I am genuinely remorseful and regret that I was not able to attend the pyre of Aldonius."

"There is a time and place for all things, Rowan," Firenze waved her words away. "There are some things that are simply not written in the stars, but your intent is most welcome."

Rowan gratefully nodded her head, before saying, "My question is untimely, but I must ask of the Blood Fruit."

"I also wish to speak to you regarding this," Firenze earnestly said. "Come," he rose and motioned to her to follow him. 

The two of them stepped out from the tent to find Chief Magorian watching over them with his bulging arms folded over his chest. He looks down his nose at Rowan but does not speak. Firenze leads the way with Rowan in tow and Chief Magorian trailed behind at a distance. 

Opening the fence, Firenze leads Rowan into the fenced garden. The scent of numerous plants fills the air. The two of them cautiously make their way through the carefully tended garden. They soon arrived before six potted large bush-like plants that were no longer tiny seedlings but had quickly grown to the size of a two-year-old tree.

Blinking at the size, Rowan arches her brow in surprise. "They are much larger than I could have imagined," she murmured stepping closer to touch one of the leaves. 

The leaf of the plant moves on its own and curls around Rowan's outstretched finger. She feels the delight of the plant transmitted through the leaf though the sensation is weak. Her eyes widened in shock at feeling her previously weakened ability from the last surge seem stronger than then. A feeling of hope fills her, she has not completely lost the ability.

Pleased by the unexpected result, Rowan did her best to compose herself trying to keep a foolish grin off her face. With great care, she gently pulled back and tugged her hand out of the grasp of the wiggly leaves. "The Blood Fruit has grown exceptionally well. It has been most carefully tended," she observed.

"Yes," Firenze stepped closer to touch one of the wiggling branches. "We feed the potted plant the raw leftovers of the beasts we hunt or find impaled upon the thorn walls. The plant has thrived under such care and has already begun to produce fruit," pointing to a ruby red colored fruit the size of a Roma tomato hidden somewhat by the bushy leaves.

"Does the fruit have any special properties to it?" Rowan probed as she stepped closer to the tree-like shrub to better study the ruby red fruit. 

"The first batch of fruit has already been harvested," Firenze murmured as he pulled his hand away from the plant and out of reach from the wiggling leaves.

"And?"

"The fruit was traded for Acromantula silk," Firenze playfully answered. 

"What!" Rowan's head whipped so fast that it hurt her neck.

"Apparently, they could smell the fruit for miles," Firenze evenly responded turning to face Rowan. "Their leader, Aragog, the old spider personally came and spoke to us. He offered to trade their silk with us. We could not refuse as acromantuala silk is a rare and most valuable ingredient in potions, and to weave magical embedded cloth with potent properties."

"Well, that is unexpected," Rowan furrowed her brow in pensive thought. Acromantula silk and venom are highly valued in the wizarding world. If it could be traded safely, it would be prudent to cultivate more Blood Fruit.

However, the implications of the Blood Fruit were extraordinary. They could possibly be used to feed other magical creatures such as hags or vampires or trolls or giants to name a few. Not to mention, she needed to investigate the magical properties of the plant itself in potions! The applications were endless!

Firenze's words pulled Rowan back to the present. "We have begun to cultivate more seedlings to trade with," he pointed to small stem cuttings carefully potted in small pots. The tiny plants are more excitable than their parents and wave their leaves at them.

"No, I should be the one thanking you," Rowan frankly gestured. "The plant cuttings rightfully belong to the centaur tribe for all the aid that has been offered to me."

"The tribe thanks you, Rowan for granting these seedlings into our care," Firenze gratefully said.

 A trace of sadness flashes across Rowan's face at Firenze's response. With the passing of time, Firenze would only become more formal with her. They would no longer be friends but rather the centaur tribe shaman and a witch.

Sometimes friendships end before they ever truly start. There is no shame in mourning a friendship. Neither is there any shame in moving forward. All things come and go, it is simply the way of life.

Returning to study the plants, Rowan says, "If there is any blood fruit left, I would like a bushel of it. If not, I would ask for the remaining fruit to be harvested and be granted unto me."

"There is some fruit left over, but far from sufficient to fulfill your request," Firenze calmly responded. "We shall pick the remaining fruit prior to your departure as to fulfill thine request."

Shaking her head, Rowan gestured back to the tent. "There is much to discuss in private Firenze." There was a plan in place, and she and her grandfather would need Firenze help in order for it to be successful. Not that her grandfather knew she would personally convey the message, having imagined she would write a letter no doubt.

Firenze sapphire-colored eyes gaze up at the heavens. Mercury and Venus in Gemini and Mars in Leo. Two are needed, two to meet, and the lion roars, a battle that will shake the heavens. He would be needed to stem the tides of fate.

Turning away from the sky, Firenze leads the way. They had much to discuss, and the moon had already begun to wane in the sky. The heavens moved and it was the fate of man to follow.