Chub-bee

Sedna found herself in the garden, ripping weeds with her teeth, digging out those that were more stubborn. She had a small patch cleared by now, and filled it out with small shoots of goldenrod, lavender, and even a lone wild ginger plant that she had relocated after finding it shaded and moist under the boughs of a willow in the weeping woods. Now if only she could track down some yarrow...

Her train of thought and movement was interrupted as a lone worker bee dared to land on her nose. She supposed there was probably some pollen dusting her snout for all her enthusiastic restructuring, the bitterness of sap from distressed plants laying heavy on the backs of her teeth. Her snout crinkled as her tongue pressed against it accidentally and she was reminded, not for the first time, of her mothers bitter willow bark concoction. In fact, she had been holding off on harvesting any for that reason alone. It was effective, but convincing anyone to take it was a chore in and of itself. Having taken it’s rest, the bee resumed its travels and Sedna released a breath she hadn’t realised she had been holding.

However, her new companion had sparked an idea, and the woman left her weeding for now, crossing the grassy plains, not just any willow would do, and when she finally found what she sought, she pressed her claws against the bark and ripped. A reasonable chunk fell away and she returned her paws to the earth, clutching the bark gingerly between her teeth. She carried it back to her den, stowing it somewhere dry, and then she moved toward the shore.

She was sure she had seen something that would suit on her morning run, tumbled between the trunks of flooded trees. Now that the tide was coming in, it bobbed a short distance off shore and the woman muttered a curse, readily plunging into the water to fetch the empty turtle shell, nudging it back towards the shore with her nose. It’s previous owner couldn’t have been too old, the shell easily lifted between her jaws, she pushed down the anxiety that came from noting the ragged tooth marks that scratched across the surface of what she would come to claim as a bowl. Her aunt had a grand collection, inherited from Sedna’s grandmother, and now she had one of her own. She would need to keep her eyes peeled for more, it was always helpful to have a collection of fresh rain water for making teas and tinctures. She would drop it at her den before hunting down her earlier companion and their natural boon.

Next she moved back towards the willows. Her ears had detected the low buzz of activity, though if she had thought further ahead, she would have called Sigrun to carry her bowl and returned to the fire by the obelisk to try and bring along a smouldering branch to placate the bees enough to limit the amount of stings she was likely to suffer if she had to get rough with the hive. As it was, she simply grimaced, and considered it a lesson for next time, after all, there were only so many daylight hours to spare. At least if this all went to plan she’d have something for the pain of the stings that would inevitably come.

As luck would have it,  when she finally found the hive, its comb was broken into two parts across low hanging branches, the primary comb was a tempting prize, but also crawling with many more bodies armed with stingers, the smaller could probably be broken away, but it would mean bringing a handful of the hive along with her, she would need to plot her escape well. They had detected her presence, the low buzz building in it’s chorus as she turned her ears back and narrowed her eyes. They could shout all they wanted, she was getting that honey! Her teeth closed around the lowest branch the first bees moving to fly at her face in warning. She reefed the branch with a snap of her head and the sound of cracking timber filled the air. She didn’t pause to test it, starting her run as the air around her erupted. She only had to make it back to her garden.

Sharp stings found their mark among the shorter fur on her snout and on the backs of her ears. She winced, but wouldn’t give up her prize. The thick fur that covered the rest of her body saved her from further hurt, and eventually the bees gave up, only a handful continuing their pursuit as far as her garden. She rested the stick across each side of the shell, allowing it to dangle over the bowl while she pawed at her face and ears, shaking to dislodge as many of the stingers as she could. Her face was throbbing, lips swelling, but she paid it little mind. It would go down with time.

It was only on returning to her task that she realised there was still one bee clinging to the comb, larger than the rest with little interest in leaving. A few bees hovered over the bowl and the young healer sighed. She hadn’t meant to bring a queen with her, although this presented an opportunity in itself (if it meant she wouldn’t have to go hunting for honey every time she needed it). She used her paw to break away part of the comb, relishing the way it squished between her toes and using some of the sweet honey that clung to her paw so smooth across the worst of the stings on her snout. Her relief was almost immediate, though this hadn’t been the purpose of her endeavour to start with. Next she collected the stick and what remained of the honeycomb, the relocated queen buzzing angrily at her in the process. There weren’t many places to lean the stick out here on the plains, but the earth was soft in the garden and the waving grasses offered some small protection, so she stuck the stick in the ground and made a mental note to come up with a more permanent solution before the end of the day.

Returning to her bowl, ducking into the den to grab her scrap of willow bark. She broke off a small portion with her teeth, healers mouth accustomed to the bitterness where others would not be compliant. She dipped the bark in the honey, before chewing it more completely. It was a lot of bother for the sake of someones willingness to give them freedom from pain, but she had to admit it was more palatable in the long run, might prove more useful for children than warriors, though at least she could offer it as an option now.

She settled back on her haunches, waiting for the bark to take effect. Once the throbbing in her face had subsided some, she would work on figuring out how she was going to keep her bees. Maybe her garden could do with with a small tree? Perhaps if she was in luck she would be able to find a fir or cedar that was small enough to move...

Word Count: 1214.