Making Waffles

Gathering Hymn

Dell hands Hunter an unusual piece of Palistrom wood. There is a whorl in an inconvenient place, it has a strange shape, and there's a jagged point off the back of it. Dell smiles at him and waits to see what Hunter sees in it.

Hunter turns it over in his hands, "I can work with this, but...I don't quite know what it will be yet. I can see something in it, but I think this one's going to have to be felt before it's seen."

Dell nods, "Of course. Take your time. You'll figure it out. You do beautiful work, Hunter. I'm sure you'll know once you start carving."

"Thank you, sir," Hunter says. Dell is one of the very few people he addresses with formality and reverence, though only in certain circumstances. They've come to an understanding—Dell allows Hunter these moments and Hunter doesn't let it become the only way he talks to him. It was hard to find the balance at first and both of them ended up uncomfortable on more than one occasion. But Dell is someone Hunter respects on a level above all others, because Dell has lived with wild magic in a way that few have. Students may make their own Palismen, but Dell is a master carver, the last in a long family line of artists that tended to the forests and carefully took only what they needed from the sacred trees.

And Hunter has been chosen to continue this work. He doesn't quite understand how he's worthy of this honour, but it is something he enjoys and so he accepts it and tries not to think too much about how this is his legacy.

***

Hunter takes his time with the Palistrom wood, first carving around the whorl, then working with the odd shape. Little by little, it turns into a bird and he realizes the shape is similar to Flapjack. With the memories of holding his little friend close to his heart still strong and still somewhat painful, he pauses his carving and moves on to other Palismen before he returns to it. He doesn't usually carve birds, at least not ones reminiscent of those found in the human realm. It hits too close to home.

When he returns to his unfinished work, he picks it up cautiously, his heart aching for Flapjack. There is something he wants to do, a feeling he has to purge from his mind before he can keep carving. He extends his arm and closes his eyes, gently holding the rough hewn shape in his palm. Then he grips it, carefully but tightly, and remembers the feeling of Flapjack being crushed in his own hand.

He drops the Palisman and cries. When Dell finds him, he sees the little wood bird on the ground and picks it up—the shape tells him all he needs to know. His apprentice is grieving. He sets it on the work bench and sits down beside Hunter, wrapping his arms around him. Hunter quickly wipes his eyes and tries to gather his emotions, smothering his feelings.

"I'm sorry. I'll get back to work."

Dell shakes his head, "Take your time. The wood can wait. It'll be there when you've had the chance to work this though."

"What if I can't?" Hunter asks, "What if the memory is too much?"

"Then you wait," Dell replies, "You give yourself space and come back when you're ready."

"Can I talk about it?" Hunter asks, voice small.

Dell doesn't quite know what Hunter needs to talk about, but he nods anyway, "Of course."

Hunter takes a few deep breaths and wipes his eyes on the edge of his apron, "I...I held her like this," he says, extending his arm, "I have to get past a memory that's so painful I don't know how I can make it any better."

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Hunter shakes his head, "No. But I need to. I told you that Belos killed Flapjack while he possessed me. But what that means is that he snatched Flap out of the sky with my hand. He didn't care what that bird meant to me. He didn't care how much I loved him. I think Flap had belonged to his brother, or maybe his brother's wife. And because my little Palisman was the magic she used to call Caleb away from the human realm, the magic that bewitched him and caused him to leave Philip behind, Belos crushed him, spearing him through with these spikes he could form out of the decaying sludge that was his flesh." Hunter goes quiet and then shudders, trying to keep his emotions tightly under control. "I felt his body break in my hand, but I couldn't stop him."

Dell sighs, "I'm so sorry, Hunter. That sounds like it was awful for you in so many ways."

"Yeah. It still makes me feel sick to think about. And now...now I'm discovering I'm carving a bird. I didn't mean to. I try to avoid birds. But...that's what the wood is saying to me. So that's what I'm making."

Dell nods, "I understand—we carve what the wood leads us to make. But might I suggest something?"

"What?"

"Consider keeping this one for your own. You're working through your pain with her already. You don't have to, and I won't hold it against you if you don't, but...just think about it."

Hunter takes a deep breath, "Yes sir. I will."

"Why don't you take the rest of the day off?" Dell suggests.

"If I do that, I'll probably just end up thinking myself into a mess," Hunter says, "So maybe I should work with the trees instead."

Dell smiles, "Willow's coming to do that within the hour—I think she'd like the company."

Hunter feels a little lighter when he hears this, "I think I would, too."

"Come back to carving tomorrow. Or painting. Find your way as you need to. This is an art, not a business. You're alright to take it slow," Dell reminds him.

"Thanks." He puts the unfinished Palisman on the shelf above his workbench, "And I'll come back to you later."

He stands, stretches, and walks with Dell to the grove of young Palistrom trees to wait for Willow.