Page 39 of The Hocus Pocus Handbook

Nodding, she whispers, “I feel so silly for refusing to pack my own supplies. I was so proud of my connections and so sure the wildlands would provide.”

“I’m sure if we weren’t traveling so far afield, they would have,” I say, trying to be gentle with her. It’s such a rare impulse, wobbly-legged and newborn in its presence.

“You two are sweet,” Zeph says with an enigmatic expression.

I straighten as irritation prickles over me. It feels like Zeph is needling us, and that’s…odd. At least, partly so. I’m used to creating conflict, but people normally like Thea. Zeph strikes me as a free spirit, so why does Thea rub them the wrong way? Still considering the question, I focus and pull enough magic to close the punctures, though the expenditure leaves me exhausted and hungry to the point of feeling unsteady on my feet.

“I can feast on nectar,” Rosalina says then, as if she can read my physical state. “But what do you three plan to do?”

I don’t mind sharing with Thea, but it annoys me faintly to provide for Zeph. I make the offer anyway. “I’ll divide what I have. It’s simple fare. Just fruit and honey wafers for now and dried vegetables for later. I’ll make soup. We need a break after that run.”

My knees are too weak to carry me far, so I’ll prepare food for everyone. I set up the warming-stone cooking circle and then heat it with magic. The pot rests directly on the stone, and I add the dried vegetables to it, along with herbs and spices, plus a handful of barley grain for added heartiness. Thea helps, adding a few things to the pot. She also shares water from a tin cup she produced from somewhere.

“That frankly smells delicious,” Zeph says.

Without deciding to do so, I check on Thea. She’s curled up near Rosalina, looking like she might nod off at any moment. I offer a first course of honey wafers and fruit, and then when the soup is done, we take turns eating out of the pot. I have my own cup and bowl, but it seems better to share. Such things build communal bonds—or so I’m told. I’ve never attempted to make anyone like me.

Still, it’s companionable passing the pot around. We each take a few bites, before circling it onward, and then it returns. We continue this way until all the warm soup is gone. And the stories are true. I feel…connected. Perhaps for the first time in my life, I’m part of a collective.

My mind drifts to Macha, who stole the memory of my mother and whose line I distantly carry on. I wonder if I get my tendency toward solitude from her. Yet, if she once had daughters, she wasn’t always alone. She is older than our recordkeeping, and the secrets she must have to share might encompass volumes enough to fill a library. Somehow, she knows about my spiderlings, but I have no fear that she’ll share that information with Liskaal. Instinctively, I understand that if the Lord of Winter forced her to choose a side, he would not be pleased with her decision. And he wouldn’t live long if he interfered with her territory either.

Interrupting my reverie, Thea rubs her belly with what sounds like a happy groan. “That was exactly what I needed.”

After making soup, there’s not enough water left for everyone. I do have a bottle I can fill, if we find a stream. Rosalina scouted before, but I probably shouldn’t be the one to ask. I don’t know how to approach people, and pixies can be…difficult. They often resent being seen as messengers and servants, and I understand that sensitivity better than most.

Zeph might be able to cajole her since they know her better. Presumably. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have responded to their request for aid. And for that matter, what did they even tell her? I eye them both, then dismiss the notion of asking for clarification.

“We have time to forage,” I say. “Before we set off again.”

“Are we on a schedule?” Rosalina asks.

“We are,” Thea replies. “I think we have nine days?”

“What day do you think it is?” Zeph cuts in.

I provide my best guess.

They open a small timekeeping device, a fae invention perfectly attuned to the oscillations in temporal energy. Then the date and time displays on the crystal. “I don’t like to bear bad tidings, but we napped longer than any of us realized.”

Stunned, I just stare for a moment.

Impossible. “We only have one week left?”

19

A Spell for Courage and Comfort

There may come a time when you feel disheartened, as if you cannot face what comes next. This working will help to center you, remind you of why you came so far in the first place. It’s meant only for you, and there could be consequences if you attempt to sway others with this one. I would caution against it. Forcing emotions on other souls could be construed as coercion, and there is a line we ought not to cross, even if we can.

I hope this charm leaves you feeling as you do when you first come home and you get a big hug. There’s always a warm bowl of porridge waiting, and I tried to distill that solace and safety into a rite that would reassure you in that same way. I’ve tested it myself, and it passes muster. You might be surprised by how simple it is, but sometimes the simple things are the best. Simple joy. Simple life.

At my lowest point, you reminded me of this when you were a wee tot, barely toddling. I put you down amid a garden of flowers, and you didn’t uproot a single one. You sat in wonder watching a pixie sampling the nectar. (Yes, that’s how you first met Shereth, and she told me you were a special child that day.) Most children want to take, but you only drank the wonder in, starry-eyed and full of joy.

This one is best cast quickly at the height of light. You’ll need:

Silver and garnet jewelry

Candied ginger