At the Lamp-Post
Lantern Waste

Lanisen hurries through the woods, keeping to the cover of the trees and glancing up frequently. He looks like he passed a sleepless night.

Applebud scampers around the Lamp-post collecting nuts.

Lanisen veers toward her, glancing up again. “Applebud, Applebud, hey, what’re you doin’ out?”

Applebud glances up at Lanisen, holding up an acorn. “I wanted to gather some nuts for the Dragon in case he likes them.”

Lanisen says, “Ohhh boy, all right.” He drops to one knee. “If you see the dragon, I want you to hide, all right? Don’t try to talk to it. Don’t let it see you.”

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to megren & darrin, 11 harvesthome 1017

Meg and Sir Darrin,

There is a Dragon in Lantern Waste. There is a report from the northern guard going to the council that I am sure you will hear; I am watching Torgin write it right now and it will come by the same Bird, I think, but I wanted to write as well and tell you that nobody is hurt that I know of, and everybody is safe and looked after.

Continue reading to megren & darrin, 11 harvesthome 1017

cloudy with a chance of dragons

Napthalia’s Meadow
Lantern Waste

You find yourself in a quiet, peaceful little meadow, sheltered to the west by the face of the Western Cliffs, and to the east by a particularly thick grove of trees. The grass grows tall and thick here, in clumps thick enough to make an enticing mouthful for any grazing beast. Between the trees and the cliffs, the meadow remains shaded enough to make it a nice, relaxing place to be.

A dragon with shimmering white scales and ice blue eyes is curled around a rusted kettle, its body a little smaller than a grown elephant. It is curiously snuffling the kettle and has a few dead birds by its right front paw.

Lanisen comes walking along the path from the north in the late evening, moving wearily. He doesn’t immediately register the absence of birdsong in the trees overhead, but he pauses uncertainly when he does, and takes another moment to turn the corner that brings him within sight of the meadow.

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to chlamash, 8 harvesthome 1017

Chlamash Tarkaan,

I hope it is not too forward to write to you. I have been in Lantern Waste these last weeks, learning from one of the healers here. There are not as many people about here as there are in the castle and the village, but there are still a good many, and I had a thought talking with a Bird here about Prince Cor’s friends in Meahrdell.

Continue reading to chlamash, 8 harvesthome 1017

to dalia, 8 harvesthome 1017

Hello Dalia,

I hope you enjoy your time in Carmichael. It is a very beautiful part of the country, with so many mountains and hills and ripples in the land that even when you think you know it all it will still surprise you with something new. Please tell Cass hello for me, if you see her on the way there or back. She is working at the inn in Lancelyn Green.

I am curious about your mention of loose ends in Carmichael, but as I can’t see your face I am not sure if it is something I ought to ask after or not. Please consider the question asked, if it is something you want to talk about, or consider it let to fall if it is something you do not. Whatever it is, I hope you find the peace you are looking for.

Continue reading to dalia, 8 harvesthome 1017

from dalia, 4 harvesthome 1017

Dear Lanisen,

We are Carmichael. I came on a mission from Lady Astera and Abrielle and My sister Nessa expressed a wish to come so we are here now. I have not heard from you so I hope I am not presuming too much in writing. I am certain that you must be very busy learning all sorts of things in Narnia, and I hope my tone in my letter was not too strong. I truly wish for what is right and best for you.

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the nature of gifts

Selale Basin
Lantern Waste

Lanisen sits on the ground outside the cave he’s been camping in, his knees drawn up loosely and his arms resting on top. There’s a letter unfolded next to him, and another underneath, but he’s only staring at them without doing anything about them. He looks tired.

Crenna pads quietly into the basin, nose to the ground. She pauses upon seeing her friend and gives a low bark, “Hello Lanisen.”

Ayla pads tentatively into the basin, halting just inside it, her ears pricked forward, her nose close to the ground. Glancing up as she nearly runs directly into another wolf in much the same position, she yelps, startled. “Oops. Sorry!” Glancing up, her tail begins to wag slightly upon seeing Lanisen, and she yips a quiet greeting. “Lanisen, Son of Adam,” she comments, sitting in the grass and curling her tail around her feet.

Continue reading the nature of gifts

living land

Selale Basin
Lantern Waste

Lanisen sits by the pool at dusk, wrapped up in his heavy cloak, watching the waterfall a little distantly.

A wolf with half of a left ear (Virika) pads along the cliff face into the basin. Her pace is casual and leisurely.

Lanisen glances up as the Wolf comes into his field of vision. He starts to call out, then stops, a little puzzled, and watches her.

Virika heads for the larch tree. She takes a seat beneath it, scanning her surroundings. Seeing the Son of Adam, she nods. “Hello.” Her tail curls around her hindquarters.

Continue reading living land

nuts & naiads

Gathering Circle
Lantern Waste

Applebud scampers along the ground gathering up nuts and putting them in her litle pouch.

Lanisen makes his way along the path, crossing into the circle from the west. He shades his eyes, peering toward the rustling in the dead leaves on the ground, then brightens up and makes his way toward Applebud.

Applebud looks up at the sound of footsteps, and chitters excitedly when she sees Lanisen and goes blouncing off towards him.

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Selale Basin
Lantern Waste

Here is a wide open space carved in the rock, roughly circular and no more than twenty yards in diameter. The cliffs loom high on every side, providing shelter from wind and weather, but a great opening very far up lets in sunlight and sky. A thin jet of water, perhaps a daughter-stream of the river that pours into Caldron Pool, cascades down the western cliff face and feeds into a deep pool the color and clarity of a well-cut emerald. The ground, except for a ring of vegetation surrounding the pool, is dry and sandy. A single ancient larch tree grows tall near the north wall.

All around, the cliff face is etched and pocked with half-open tunnels and dark holes, entrances to small caves hollowed out years ago by the long work of water on stone. Some are fitted with wooden doors and appear inhabited, but many still yawn empty. Up above, ledges and crevices in the rock provide nesting spaces for eagles and hawks. In the east wall, through a wide crevice like a wound in the stone, the forests of Lantern Waste are just visible.

Lanisen sits just outside one of the larger caves, one that looks quite lived-in by now, tending a little cookfire.

Pheeobe comes running in from the East as fast as she can and catapults into the water, making a huge splash deep into the water where she doesn’t come up from right away.

Lanisen glances up and raises his eyebrows, watching worriedly. He gets to his feet, just in case.

Pheeobe pops up after a few beats and dog-paddles to the edge of the water before collapsing.

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