Chapter Text
Many misunderstand how Drekamaður magic works, thinking it to be like witch magic, using spells to create a specific result. This is incorrect. A witch can cast any spell - let us use a simple levitation spell as an example. The witch casts the spell on whatever the target might be. The object will rise to the desired height, and stay there as long as the ingredients dictate it should. A Drekamaður on the other hand, does not cast a spell, they would simply use magical energy to manipulate how gravity effects them, or an object they choose. The possibilities are endless with the latter, while the former is much more structured. The magic of a Drekamaður is much more fluid, with very few hard rules. As long as you have the magical energy required, the only limit is one’s own mind.
-From ‘Jéspiat’s guide to life as a Drekamaður’, page 13 paragraph 1
Hilda tossed the pillow into the air, directly above where she was laid on Woodman’s plush couch. The pillow slowed, and stopped right before hitting the ceiling before falling back down towards her. She pinched her eyes shut - already filled with a small amount of energy - and tried to push out around herself mentally. The pillow plopped right onto her face with a soft smack. Hilda let out a muffled groan from underneath, before pulling the pillow off and sitting up. She had been trying to recreate the magical shield she had made accidentally while escaping the witches, but so far had been unsuccessful. Her ability to absorb magical energy had returned yesterday afternoon, and she had been practicing ever since. She had only been able to get the faintest trickle at first, but now she was back to 100%. She gave the pillow next to her a side long glance. Maybe not one hundred percent. It was nice to just hold some though.
She walked over to the window, looking out on a warm summer afternoon. The sounds of insects and birds were muffled by the thick glass, but still faintly audible to her. She glanced at the large old fashioned grandfather clock on the wall. 2:37 PM, it read. A loud tick tock could be heard as the second hand moved. With her enhanced hearing, she could hear it no matter where she was in the house, which should have been annoying, but Hilda found it quite pleasant, something about the rhythmic consistency was very comforting. The sound was broken by a buzzing fly that wove lazy circles around her, then flew back into the kitchen. She followed it to the kitchen, looking for something to eat. She searched but didn’t find anything that suited her, which was just as well, seeing as she wasn’t actually hungry, just bored. She made her way back to the living room, and looked at the clock again. 2:39 PM. She let out a long sigh, looking around the room for anything else to do.
Her eyes fell on the coffee table, where the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle were still sitting after she had dumped them out of the box earlier that day. She had put a few of the pieces together earlier, but had given up quickly. With a resigned sigh she sat on the edge of the couch, and started matching pieces in methodical fashion. She quickly found the corners and got most of the perimeter laid out. It was tedious work, but also satisfying in a way. After what felt like an hour, she finally had the entire perimeter laid out, connected all the way around. The fly came back, and landed on her arm. She shooed it away, and as she did she glanced behind her at the clock. 2:42 PM. She fell back on the couch with a groan, rubbing her face. The day was beyond dragging. It already felt like lunch had been a week ago. She sat back up, looking all around the empty house for any sort of activity to take up the time.
She opened a small tear and let the energy fill her, but that just made the boredom worse. The energy made her want to jump up and run out the door, looking for something exciting. She forced herself to remain seated. She could go outside, and walk around Woodman's yard, but that would just tempt her to run off into the forest, which she couldn't do until Harold got back. The only sound was the steady tick-tock as the clock counted the seconds. She wished the Raven was still around. Despite her earlier sentiment, going on a flight over the forest would have been wonderful right about then. She even wished Woodman was still around, just for some conversation. He had left the same day as her father, a few hours after. As usual, he had given no explanation of where he was going, or when he would return. That was almost 2 days ago now, and Hilda couldn’t help but worry. Not about Woodman, she knew very well he could take care of himself. And she wasn’t worried Harold had decided to run off, she was sure he had been genuine when he promised her he wouldn’t. No, she was worried something had happened to him. He was literally a bad luck magnet after all.
Maybe the witches had captured him, or maybe he had gotten injured somehow on the journey. Maybe he was lost. Had he ever been to Woodman’s house before? Woodman had mentioned that they had known each other previously, but hadn’t gone into detail. Hilda only vaguely knew how to get to Trollberg from here, she would probably just end up finding the remains of her old house and go from there, even though it was pretty far out of the way. Harold had been on the safety patrol though, surely he knew his way around. Or maybe he didn’t. She just didn’t know, and it was driving her crazy. All she could do was wait and worry. It was probably karma, seeing as her poor mother would be feeling the same feeling a hundred times over. She felt guilty, but it’s not like she had meant to disappear for, what… 8 days? The excuse seemed shaky at best, but it did help her feel a bit better. She grabbed the pillow again, and tried a few more times to get the shield to work, all in vain. She eventually stopped the useless exercise, walking back to the kitchen for a glass of water. Once she returned, her eyes fell on the coffee table, where the book sat next to the unfitted puzzle.
She wondered absently if there were instructions - or better yet a detailed guide - for the shield, but judging by what she had already read, it seemed unlikely. It had lots of great information, but it was also incredibly frustrating. The book told her to experiment, listing dozens of potential abilities without any real explanation of how to use them. But at the same time, the book also warned that experimentation was dangerous and should only be done with a suitable mentor, which she didn't have. The book also said to practice what she already knew, but she hadn’t been able to get the shield working at all. It was all so frustrating. She had tried putting the illusion on earlier, which luckily had worked without a hitch. Out of boredom, she tried it again, and was pleasantly surprised at how easy it was now.
She walked to the mirror and looked back at herself. Her old face almost seemed like a stranger now. Had her cheeks really always been that round? How had she survived being this short? There was only a few inches of difference but it was very noticeable to her. With a sigh, she started letting go off the illusion, but then stopped, noticing something. She looked down at her arms. They were ordinary, just regular skin covered by her favorite yellow jacket. But before, the illusion had always shown her wearing her customary red jacket. She was also missing her hat, and sturdy boots. She was instead barefoot, with her hair put back in a pony tail. This was what she would wear if she was going to, well, just sit around the house, just as she had been doing for the past few days. Was the illusion changing? Or was she subconsciously changing it herself? She let the illusion drop, now curious. She put it on again, this time focusing specifically on the clothing. She felt the now familiar icy feeling wash over her, and she now wore her red jacket and hat.
That will come in handy.
She hadn’t even considered that if she went back home, and wore the illusion basically all of the time, people might find it strange she always wore the same clothes, luckily it wouldn’t be a problem now. Curious, she tried changing the clothing while the illusion was still active, closing her eyes and focusing hard. When she opened her eyes, she was excited to find she was once again wearing the yellow jacket. It would be super handy to not have to drop the illusion anytime she wanted to change outfits.
What else can I change? She thought, putting her hand to her chin.
Her imagination starting running wild with possibility. Could she change her skin or hair color? Could she change her height, or features? That raised another question entirely. Could she use the illusion to look like other people? She tried all of the ideas, but found little success. She could change the shade of her hair, but it was still a vibrant blue despite her efforts. Her skin tone seemed stubbornly locked, as well as her height. She dropped the illusion, and tried to make an illusion of Frida, since they were around the same height and build. She built the mental picture, and it almost worked, the magic flowing out of her and the icy feeling washing over her. It fell apart almost instantly though. She felt like she could get it to work with more practice, maybe. She walked back to the couch and picked up the book, hoping to find some information about the illusion magic. She started flipping through the pages looking for any mention of using illusions, but paused when a passage caught her eye.
Connection tracing is one of the first things I recommend learning. Firstly, it is a very important skill that every Drekamaður needs to have full command over. Secondly, It requires very little magic and is a great starting point for beginners. And finally, it is not dangerous in the slightest, unlike the vast majority of inexperienced magic use. But before anything, it may be prudent to explain what exactly ‘connection tracing’ even is. Everything around us, be it plant, animal - or even concepts, such as places - build connection with each other. While the process of building connection is not fully understood, the biggest factor is time. Perhaps two friends spending time with each other, or one person spending time in a certain place. Although, two people could spend hours a day right next to each other and never build more then a flimsy string, so time is not the only factor. Regardless, everyone has connections, including you. These strings of connection are usually invisible, and cannot be interacted with by normal means. Fortunately for us, Drekamaður are anything but normal, so this will not be an issue for us. The exercise is simple. Fill yourself with a smidgen of energy, just enough to feel a tingle in your fingers. After that, just close your eyes and picture - in exquisite detail - family members, close friends, your home, places you frequent, or places you enjoy spending time. It may take a few attempts, but if done correctly this will show you all the normal connections you have with the people and world around you. If you are concerned about abnormal connections, or connection manipulation, we will discuss them in a later section. For the now, the basics will suffice.
Hilda raised an eyebrow, the initial reason for opening the book completely forgotten.
Abnormal connections? What the heck does that mean?
She thought, growing excited. Her curiosity was piqued, so she riffled through the pages until she found the appropriate page.
‘Abnormal connection’ is a phrase that covers a very broad list of actual effects. The most basic definition is any connection that doesn’t form naturally. Anything from familiar bonding, to curses. All Drekamaður one, a link between yourself and the Dragon that chose you. If you have more, then I suspect you already know why. If you don’t, then all I can do is wish you good luck. As some of you may have already guessed, this connection to your patron Dragon is what allows you to access the magical realm. As you should know by now, all magic requires two things. The ability to use magic, and a source of magical energy. As a Drekamaður, you have the ability to use the energy, but left alone, you have no way to access the magic needed. Dragons, are innately able to access the magic realm, and through the Drekamaður bond, so can you. Now, as for actually viewing these connections, the process is nearly the same - you just focus on seeing the abnormal connections in place of the normal versions. The difference is that viewing the abnormal connections will steadily drain your body of magic at a significant rate. Why? Well, to be perfectly frank with you, I haven’t the faintest idea. As I mentioned earlier in this book, many things about connection are still unknown. Perhaps one of my readers will discover the secret, or perhaps it will remain a mystery. In any case, I would recommend staying away from the abnormal until the normal is - at the very least - understood.
Hilda frowned. She should probably just worry about the regular connections for the time being, assuming she could even get those to work.
She flipped back to the first section, quickly re-reading the instructions. She closed her eyes, as the book suggested. She pictured her mother first. Johanna sitting in her customary spot at her desk, drawing something for work. She imagined the sound of her voice, the look Johanna always gave when Hilda had done something stupid. Equal parts concern, incredulity, and annoyance. But at the same time filled with as much love as you could imagine. Just thinking of it make Hilda smile over the sudden stab of loneliness it brought as well. She moved on to picturing David and Frida next, then Twig. She went through everyone she could think of, adding as much detail as she could. She imagined places as well. Her home, the school, the library, dozens of locations flickered through her mind. She started repeating people and places, going through the list a few times to be sure.
Tentatively, she peeked an eye open. Her jaw dropped slightly as she saw dozens of ethereal gold strings leading away from in her in every direction. Some were bigger then others, some pulsed slightly at seemingly random intervals. She hesitantly touched one of the larger pulsing ones with a single finger, worried she might break it somehow. It was warm to the touch, and almost seemed to vibrate under he finger. Along with that, came a crystal clear image of David to her mind. It was uncanny how detailed the image was, and considering further, she didn’t think this image was from her memory. There was no backdrop, or context to the image. It was just David, not as she pictured him in her memory, but as he was. Something else came with the image however, a feeling, or feelings maybe. It was hard to understand, and the feeling wasn’t immediately clear. She grabbed hold of the strand, hoping more contact would help somehow. It didn’t change anything unfortunately. She held on, trying to decode the strange sensations coming through the line, but eventually gave up. She touched the smaller line next David’s. This one didn’t pulse at all, but held an even golden glow. The brought the school building to her mind. Curious, she touched another static line, this one being the city overlook she liked to visit. She grabbed one of the pulsing lines and Alfur was brought to mind.
So the static ones are places, and the pulsing lines are people?
She touched a few more to test the hypothesis and found it to be correct. She spent awhile just touching lines, trying to understand the feelings that came through. Some were easy, happy, bored, tired. But some were very complex, and it seemed that the larger the line, the more complex it was. Touching the lines was also comforting, it made her feel less lonely. Time flew by, but she didn’t notice or care. She mainly focused on the medium/large lines, as there were far too many of small lines, some so small she could barely see them. Touching these didn’t bring much other then vague colors, that could have been faces or places if she was being generous. It didn’t bother her, it was nice to just remember she wasn’t alone, not really. Just because she wasn’t in the city, just because her friends and family were busy, that didn’t mean she was instantly forgotten. The lines proved it, and she basked in the feelings they brought. The longer she held on, the easier it was to tell what emotion was coming through.
Frida was feeling determined, along with annoyed. David was - perhaps unsurprisingly - feeling afraid, but he shared a healthy amount of determination. As for Johanna, the only feeling Hilda felt though the line was pure, unadulterated dread. Almost to the point of being overwhelming. Consuming, choking, hopeless dread. This just made Hilda feel even worse, and she let go of the line as if the dread was physically painful. It was obvious why her mother felt that way, because she was gone. Yet again. Hilda sat back, hanging her head in her hands. Was there anyway she could send a message to her mother? Why hadn’t she sent one with Harold? He could have dropped it off while he was there. She silently cursed her lack of foresight. She moved on from Johanna’s line, hoping to regain some of the comfort she had felt just minutes ago. She also wanted to find Harold’s line. She expected it to be one of the smaller lines, because of the short time they had known each other. She searched all of the smallest lines she could still get a clear face from, but didn’t find him.
She did eventually find his line, and it was larger then she had expected. The emotions were still very foggy, but it didn’t seem like the emotions of a man captured by witches. It was hard to say, but Hilda got the sense he was ok, which was a huge relief. She just had to wait until he got back. She went through the rest of the lines, but she had already touched most of them, and the rest were too small to give a distinctive face. With a sigh, she stopped viewing the connections. They faded slowly until they vanished completely. She wasn’t done yet, however. She quickly re read the section about the abnormal connections. It seemed easy enough, though the instructions were vague. She opened a small tear and closed her eyes, imagining abnormal connections. Opening her eyes, she saw that nothing had happened.
Undeterred, she closed her eyes and tried again. This time she imagined Kona, and the contract she had signed, and everything it had done. Magic starting draining out of her slowly, and when she opened her eyes she was met by the sight of a massive blue connection line. Unfortunately, two smaller lines flanked it on both sides, making three in total.
T hree? Why are there three?
The large blue one was obviously the Drekamaður bond the book had spoken of, but what were the other two? The first of the two was about half as large as the blue one, and pulsed a bright silver, almost white. The other was a static orange, with an oily sheen. She clasped her hands and stared at the lines, trying to make sense of it. Why were there three? What did the colors mean? And above all else, why did she have to deal with this? Her hands balled into fists and she stood, glaring at the far wall. She started pacing, walking back and forth to try and calm down. She didn’t let go of the connection strands though, the steady drain of magic wasn’t exactly pleasant, but it felt good in the same satisfying way a work out did. It helped distract her, but it couldn’t take her focus completely, and soon the same feeling of cruel unfairness that she had felt upon first seeing herself in Kona’s cave washed over her.
Perhaps it was childish to still get upset over matters of fair and unfair, but she couldn’t help it. Every time it seemed like her life was going well, something completely insane happened and threw everything out the window. First the giant crushing her home, then getting kidnapped by Trilia, and most recently this whole fiasco with Kona. And now, just when things had started to feel even slightly normal, this. and she was soon back to the She was just so tired of her life being turned upside down without warning, so tired of constantly needing to adjust. Most of her friends and classmates were planning for the future, deciding who and what they wanted to be. Hilda had no plans, and if she wasn’t careful, she wouldn’t have a future either. It was all so frustrating, it made her want to scream, to break something, to let the world know how she felt in an aggressive way. But no, that wouldn’t help anything, and it wouldn’t help her figure out what the other lines were.
She took some deep breaths, letting herself calm down. She once again sat on the couch, looking at the three lines. Hesitantly she reached out and touched the orange line. It had the same oily feeling as the witches magic below the library. Her hand recoiled instinctively. She grit her teeth and seized it again, trying not to squirm at the oily feeling. This time, the oil didn’t try to get to her like it had before, it just sat on the line complacently. No impression came through the line. No feeling, no place came to her mind. Nothing. Eventually she let go, confused. Every other line she had touched so far had given her something - even if she couldn’t tell what it was. But this one was just empty. She touched it again, just to be sure, cringing at the oily sheen. Still nothing. She removed her hand, almost disappointed. The book had made such a big deal of these so called abnormal connections, but they weren’t exactly exciting.
Or at least this one isn’t.
She thought, turning her attention to the large silver line. It pulsed slowly, much like the regular golden ones had, though the pulsing seemed different somehow. Maybe the rhythm was slightly faster? She wasn’t sure, but it probably didn’t mean anything. With a sigh she touched the silver line. The silver line started drinking in her magical energy, at an incredible rate. Without even thinking, she increased the size of the tear to compensate. Before she could think to congratulate herself at the quick save, she was assaulted by the feelings that came through the line. They were much stronger then anything else she had felt before. They were more then just feelings. Thoughts, raw emotions, this was a presence, like the person was right in front of her.
“Hilda? Is that you?”
The words were hesitant, but she heard them clearly. She was sure nobody had actually spoken aloud, meaning they had come directly into her mind. They weren’t really words either. They were strings of thought and emotion, that she interpreted as plain old English.
“Hello?” She spoke aloud. No answer.
“Hello?” She tried pushing the thought into the line. This time the answer was almost immediate.
“How are you doing this?”
The ‘voice’ as it was, was familiar, but at the same time it wasn’t quite right, like the accent was different. Before she could send an answer the voice started up again.
“Actually, that doesn’t matter right now. Are you alright? Where have you been? We’ve all been so worried…”
The words came through in a tumble, and it took Hilda a moment to separate them into coherent sentences. It was so excitable, like the way a dog might run around her in the street, jumping all around and barking. In fact, it was kind of like…
“Twig? Is that you?”
“Who else would it be? Anyway, are you alright?”
“Yes I’m fine. You can talk?”
Twig sent back the mental equivalent of a dry laugh.
“No, unfortunately. And we’re not talking, the bond is just extra strong right now for some reason. Strong enough for mental communication, which the ———(he sent a string of thoughts that Hilda couldn’t translate. It was sort of like an elder, and sort of like the leaders. Except they didn’t lead, and they didn’t have to be old. It didn’t make much sense to her, but she was sure it was some of the other deerfox) said shouldn’t be possible - not for a long time anyway. I assume you have something to do with it?
“Oh, well… yeah, probably.”
Hilda was sure the extra drain wasn’t a coincidence. Apparently she was using magical energy to boost the connection. It was taking a lot though, and she was starting to feel slightly drained. She wanted to say more, but felt strangely awkward - a feeling that was mirrored by Twig.
Twig eventually broke the silence.
“Where have you been? Are you ok?
“I’m alright Twig, I promise.”
She couldn’t help but smile at the way he tried to mother her. She wouldn’t have expected anything less. Talking to him felt so natural, it was hard to believe it had never happened before.
“I’ve been staying with Woodman and… and some other friends.”
She briefly considered explaining her father to Twig, but decided it would be better to do in person.
“Why haven’t you come back? Are you in trouble?”
The words came with a desire to protect her, strong enough to momentarily overwhelm her own emotions and instill a desire in herself. To protect herself. It was gone after a moment but Hilda found it profoundly bizarre. She shook herself, and answered carefully. She had planned on explaining the witches, but now it seemed like it might be better not to worry him.
“I might be in trouble, though it’s a long story. I’ll explain it later.”
“Should I come to you? I’m out with your mom - we were looking for you actually. I could bring her too.”
She was about to ask how he would find her, but then realized that she had a vague sense of his location. She turned her head to look in the direction she knew he was, and knew she could get to him in a couple of hours - though she couldn’t tell the exact distance.
“No, at least, not yet. I have someone checking the city to see if it’s safe to come back.”
“Safe? Why wouldn’t it be safe? What did you do?”
“It’s a long story.”
Hilda repeated, grimacing to herself.
“So you keep saying. I guess you can just tell me about it when you get back.
Hilda wasn’t sure what to say. How did she explain that she might be coming back? How did she explain she might be on the run from a group of witches? The silence stretched as Hilda searched for something to say.
“…You are coming back, aren’t you?” Twig eventually asked.
“I… I’m not sure if I can. I might have really messed up this time, and there might be some people after me.”
The silence was even longer this time, to the point Hilda worried the communication had somehow broken off.
“I should apologize.” Came the eventual response. It wasn’t what Hilda had expected. A reprimand? Sure. A plea for her to come back? Almost certainly. An apology though?
“After you came out of the cave… Well, I was just surprised. I shouldn’t have acted so cold. I’m so sorry. You’re my ———(Another word Hilda couldn’t translate. It was like a friend, but more. Almost like family, but maybe even more then that. Like two people that had spent their entire lives together, knowing and trusting each other completely), and I should never treat you like that. Please, come back. We all miss you so much.
The sorrow and regret that came with words shocked Hilda. She hadn’t realized how guilty Twig had felt. Although, thinking about it, it made sense. To his eyes, she had just disappeared. He had no idea how she felt about this.
“It’s alright Twig. I don’t blame you, there’s no way you could have prepared for… what happened to me.”
She tried to send as much love as she could with the words. Twig really was her best friend, and he was important to her. Twig didn’t respond with words, but she felt the weight come off his shoulders.
“But I’m sorry, I can’t come back yet."
Twig sent back a mental nudge, curious about the exact situation. Like a look someone might give in a face to face conversation.
I don’t want really want to talk about it, but I’m not sure if it’s safe yet. I promise I’ll let you know if I have to leave.”
“Ok. If we have to leave, we will leave.”
They didn’t say anything else. It was just nice to feel each others presence, knowing that the other was safe and content for the time being. The drain was really starting to catch up to her, so she regretfully said her goodbye, promising to talk to him later. She let go on the line, sighing like a man setting down a heavy load. She closed the tear a moment later, and leaned back on the couch as the last of the magic slowly leaked away. She let out a yawn, curling up on the couch and promptly fell asleep.
Several hours later she awoke groggy and slightly disoriented on the same couch. She stretched, and stood to shake off the last vestiges of sleep that still clung to her. Looking out the window she saw it was late in the afternoon, almost evening. Her stomach growled, prompting her to walk to the kitchen. After a light meal of what you might call a sandwich (a thick slice of cheese stuffed between woodman’s homemade bread) she returned to couch. There still wasn’t much to do, but Hilda found herself much less restless, so she sat back on the couch and started back on the puzzle. She let her mind wander as her fingers worked, keeping enough attention to find the correct pieces. Things seemed better now that she had talked to Twig, and felt close to everyone again. Staying put didn’t seem so bad anymore. She placed the last puzzle piece, almost without realizing.
She glanced at the clock and was surprised to see almost an hour had passed. She looked back at the completed picture - depicting a cloud filled skyline, with a few Woffs floating through one corner. She felt a surprising amount of satisfaction at the relatively simple task. Incredible what one could do when there was literally nothing else. She glanced out the window and saw that the shadows were growing long, sunset probably being less then an hour away. She felt worry start to creep in again. Surely he wouldn’t be gone another day? Was something keeping him? There was no way to know, and nothing to do but wait. She wasn’t going to be cooped up inside any longer though. She wanted to at least enjoy the sunset. She hastily threw on an illusion, and walked to the front door. She wasn’t going to leave the area, she just wanted to be outside. To hear the sounds of the forest, and see the open sky above her. She opened the door and stepped out, taking a deep breath of the evening air.
She looked up, but couldn’t see the horizon through the dense foliage all around. She scanned the immediate area for a good vantage point, and eventually decided the best spot was the higher branches of Woodman’s house itself, as it was the tallest tree for miles around. There weren’t many lower beaches to start the climb, but she thought she saw a route that would work, especially with her enhanced strength. The real issue was started the climb. The lowest branch was a solid 12 or 13 feet off the ground. She honestly wasn’t sure if she could get to that. She backed up a bit, giving her self as much of a running start as she could, then dashed forward. She leapt into the air, arms outstretched. Her fingers came within 6 inches of the branch, but she couldn’t grab anything but open air. She landed awkwardly, and fell into a heap. She picked herself up, and started dusting herself off, before remembering her clothes were fake. Looking down, they still had dust on them, and brushing it off did seem to work… She decided not to think about it too hard. She gave her self more room this time, and tried again. This time, the tips of her fingers just barely grazed the branch, but she still fell short. She landed better this time, keeping her balance. She looked back at the branch, with irrational annoyance.
One more try.
She thought, feeling stubborn. She backed up a few more paces, staring at the branch. She could imagine herself soaring through the air and seizing it. She was determined. She crouched down, getting ready to sprint. Then, on a whim, she opened a small tear and filled with a partial charge of energy. It put an extra spring in her step, and made her feel more confident. She squinted at the branch, and started forward, throwing everything she had into each step. She got to full speed, tearing across Woodman’s front lawn. She let out a yell as she ran, and sprang with everything she had. A split second before she left the ground, she felt her magic draining out of her in a rush, and at the same time she felt herself become lighter, as if gravity had momentarily lost it’s effect on her.
She soared into the air right past the branch, easily going 20 feet into the air. She was so shocked she didn’t notice her magic running out, gravity once again taking hold. Her upwards momentum petered out, and she started back towards the ground. She let out a scream, but luckily the branches were more common up here, and she managed to grab one. She hung onto the branch bewildered, but also filled with an adrenaline fueled giddiness. She couldn’t help but let out a joyful laugh. She opened a tear and filled herself to bursting. Could she do that again? She imagined herself growing lighter, and to her surprise it worked. The magic started draining again - not too quickly - and her body became nearly weightless. She pulled herself on top of the branch easily, almost floating away before steadying herself. She found that she could adjust the effect, going from just a small change to nearly weightless, though the amount of energy consumptions stayed the same.
She put herself at half her normal weight (she wasn’t sure how she knew the exact amount) and jumped for a thick branch above her. She reached it easier then she had expected and nearly smacked her head into it. She managed to get her hands out above her at the last second though, and avoided smacking. She pulled herself up onto that branch, and gave a broad smile. She jumped from branch to branch, laughing with glee as she went. She hadn’t felt this free since that night jumping though the mountains as a troll. She quickly reached the top of the canopy, popping out near the edge of the cover of leaves, causing a few nearby birds to take off across the forest. She leaned out, looking towards the sunset, needing only one hand to keep herself from falling because of her modified weight. It was a beautiful night, the sky already a deep orange, with purple creeping in from the edges. The few clouds in the area almost seemed to glow a deep gold, reflecting the sunlight in just the right way. Hilda breathed in deeply, enjoying the evening air, which was much cooler up here then it had been on the ground. From up here, everything seemed ok. Up here, it wasn’t a question if Harold would return, or if she could go back to Trollberg. Everything seemed fine up here.
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply the smells of the forest, listening to usual chatter of birds, being joined by the first of the nighttime insects waking up from their daytime slumber. She opened her eyes, and after a few minutes of searching, she found a nice spot to sit. It faced towards the sunset, and happened to have a good view of the clearing in front of Woodman’s house. Her eyes kept drifting down, hoping to spot movement. Nothing stirred below, and she realized she was in for another night alone. The thought of another restless night spent worrying made the formally pleasant night feel chilly. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, and watched the sun slowly sink behind the mountains.