well pick me up with a golden hand

How did everyone else have such an easy time sleeping so much? It was so consistent, like clockwork. Ivy didn’t know how they did it. Really, it was pretty… pretty frustrating? Whatever. What-eve-er. He could nap later. The summer had come on pretty hot, after all. It was better to be doing things before the sun was high in the sky. At least for now, he could stow away in the shadows that were cast by the trees and the tall grasses around the river. Right. There was always something he could be doing.

Constantly being busy was a coping mechanism. Ivy didn’t recognize it as such, but he was doing his best to distract himself. If he was always doing something, then he wasn’t thinking about his mother and her absence. Trying to explain death to a child… it doesn’t go so well. The boy doesn’t understand totalities or finalities. He didn’t understand that Alfrún wasn’t coming back. No explanation would really work… not yet, at least. When it finally did? That would likely be a bad thing too. It would make him bitter. It would make Ivy blame himself, too. The stages of grief would be tough on a young mind, but it was no use thinking about that now.

Up before everyone else, the child was curious about the donkey. He inspected the creature carefully, trying not to get kicked. From looking at it, there was something a bit… a bit off. A bit off about one of its ankles, at least from what he could tell. A curious creature, the boy sat on his haunches and thought for a minute. Could he help? If he helped the donkey, maybe they’d be able to get moving more quickly. Well, if they wanted to get moving, that is. Where were they going, anyway? While maybe a bit out of pocket, he should have probably asked Pops about it. Maybe someday when Valen had the time, he’d ask questions.

Right. The perceived swelling in the donkey’s ankle. Ivy thought for a long minute before remembering uncle Álarr teaching them about the dandelions. On the inside, they’d fix tummy troubles. On the outside, they’d help with pain, especially in joints. Ankles… right, ankles were joints. Well, at least they were on wolves. Ivy could only assume that was the case for donkeys too, and if they weren’t… well it wasn’t like he was feeding anything to the donkey, it wasn’t like it could get sick. Was the ankle even sore? Heck if Ivy knew, but he was on a quest now.

It was still early in the morning, and he wouldn’t venture too far away from his family. No, just far enough. With his keen eyes trained on the lush vegetation, Ivy set off. He was sniffing for them too, trying to remember exactly what the scent was. Dandelions were pretty much everywhere this time of year, and that had to be a good thing. They were resilient… just wait until he saw the human ruins, and the way that the sunshine yellow flowers sprung up through concrete. There was a metaphor there, probably. Not like Ivy knew that yet either. In time, dear boy, in time. Early morning sun filtering through the trees and tall grasses, dappling the world around him, catching in his coat… it was a good day.

With paws damp from the morning dew, Ivy tracked in casual, easy steps. His nose was to the ground, gaze soft and alert. There– ah! Dandelions. They looked just like the ones that they’d gone hunting for with his uncle not too long ago. Ivy was pleased. With damp paws, he dug into the soil beneath the plant, trying as he would to get the whole thing. Roots… roots had to be good too. Digging the plant up as a whole seemed like it would be important, especially because they seemed like they’d be even better to mash into the paste for the donkey’s ankle. Right. Ivy freed the plant from the earth with most of the roots still attached to the stem, though he’d severed quite a few of the leaves.

One down, a handful more to go.

Carefully, Ivy lifted the root ball in his mouth. It was then that it occurred to the boy that he should have probably brought along something to carry the dandelions in. The taste of dirt in his mouth wasn’t necessarily excellent, but it wasn’t much to complain about either. He wouldn’t let it distract him from his goal. Nose to the ground, there had to be more out here. Where there was one, there should be… more than one? Something like that. What the boy was failing to realize (or remember), was that the ones with the fluffy white seed heads were the same plant. Those were widespread, all around his paws.

But it didn’t matter. As he moved in a somewhat-circle around the area his family had camped out, it wasn’t long before he found another. Yellow flower, broad leaves, and when Ivy knelt to look at the plant in the light he could tell the stem was hollow. Yup, another dandelion. With a bit more care than he had the last time (already learning from his own mistakes), the boy began to uproot the plant. This one came free a bit more easily, though Ivy had to shake far more dirt from the ball of roots. That was fine, though. Playing in the dirt wasn’t a bad passtime, and he could always go swimming later.

When he finally returned to the donkey, he had a mouthful of dandelions collected. The pile of stems and roots were coated in a reasonable amount of his own spit, but that was fine. Ivy set about looking for some kind of vessel he could use to hold them, along with some water, so he could mash them into a paste to put on the creature’s perceived ailment.


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