The town of Bramblehook was tiny compared to the Capital, yet still she was lost. Rue's pointed ears poked out through a frizzy tangle of hair as she dragged her cart over another bump in the road. Plant cuttings tumbled over books, and both nearly tumbled over her. The town was a jumbled knot, winding paths unraveling into further confusion. Rue consulted a wrinkled map, turning it this way and that. Even on paper the roads resembled wet noodles thrown against a wall. Her skinny arms strained at the overloaded cart as she navigated yet another corner, and another, and another.
Eventually, she stood in front of a building that smelled of heaven. She hesitated at the door, uncertain. Her heart gave a small flutter. The young apprentice wished, more than anything, to be somewhere she belonged. She swallowed, bumping the cart through the door. Inside, the scent of bread curled around her like a warm hug. Behind the counter, a flour-dusted girl with a bright smile turned to face her.
Rue's voice was as shaky as her knees. "Am I—" She took a breath. "Is this—"
The other girl wiped her hands on her apron. "Lost?" She laughed. "You look like you've wandered out of the wilderness."
Rue's cheeks burned. "Is it that obvious?"
"Well," the girl said, eyeing Rue's overflowing cart, "you don't look like our usual customers."
Rue tried to smile, but she was too busy keeping herself from falling over in embarrassment as she tried to straighten out the contents of her cart. "I—I'm not a customer."
The girl came around the counter, freckles peeking through the flour on her cheeks. "I'm Pip," she said, offering Rue a freshly baked muffin. "Where are you trying to go?"
The young apprentice stared at the muffin as if it might offer her a map more legible than the one in her hands. "Granny Thorn's cottage?"
Pip's eyes widened with amusement. "And you ended up at the bakery?" She shook her head, pretending to be very serious. "You might need more than a muffin, then."
Rue tried to laugh, but it came out more like a sigh. "The map," she admitted, "didn't come with instructions."
"Well, this will get you there," Pip said, trying again to hand Rue the muffin with a wink. "And I'll even give you some proper directions, too."
Rue took the muffin before immediately setting it down to rummage for a pencil and paper. She dropped one of the many pouches hanging from her belt. Dried herbs scattered across the floor. She gasped, scrambling to collect them.
Pip knelt to help. "Do you always travel with your entire life strapped to your waist?"
Rue's shoulders drooped. "Is it too much?"
Pip grinned. "I think you could open your own shop with this many herbs!"
The young apprentice tried to smile, but the whole village of Bramblehook still felt like a foreign land. "I'm sorry," she said, managing to sound both flustered and apologetic at the same time.
Pip handed Rue her pouch.
"Thanks. I'm Rue," she blurted, tucking the pouch back in place.
"Welcome to Bramblehook, Rue," Pip said. "Do you want a hand with that muffin, or can you manage?"
Rue picked it up, shyly brushing her hair back behind her pointed ear. "Thanks," she said, a little more sure of herself. "I think I can manage."
"Well, then," Pip said, putting her hands on her hips. "Let's see if we can't get you where you belong."
The young apprentice let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Pip seemed as bright and cheerful as the bakery itself. "Granny Thorn's cottage is...?"
"On the other side of the village," Pip said, writing directions on Rue's paper. "You took a few wrong turns."
Rue peered over Pip's shoulder, looking more hopeful. "A few?"
Pip arched an eyebrow. "Maybe more than a few. Here," she said, "this will get you there. Even without a map."
Rue gave the other girl a smile. She took a big bite of the muffin and smiled like she hadn't eaten in weeks. "Thank you, Pip. I thought I'd end up wandering forever."
"We might have to put a sign up just for you," Pip teased. "This way to Granny Thorn's!"
Rue actually laughed. "Maybe then I'd make it," she said. "I can't read a map, but I think I can read a sign."
Pip tapped the paper with her finger. "Just follow this," she said. "And make sure you don't lose any more herbs on the way or I might accidentally bake them into something."
The young apprentice felt her shoulders relax, the bakery's warm, yeasty air working its magic on her frayed nerves. "I've never been anywhere like this," Rue admitted, "with so many twists and turns."
Pip grinned again, picking up another stray herb from the floor. "Or such good muffins?"
Rue's eyes shone with amusement, and she shook her head. "Or such good muffins," she said. "Do you mind if I sit here for a moment? Just to be sure I'm not dreaming? It's just that the Capital is so much more… orderly."
Pip folded her arms and gave Rue a playfully stern look. "As long as you promise not to disappear before I get to say bye. I have to finish up some pie crust for my mom."
Rue took another big bite of the muffin. "It will be nice to catch my breath for a minute."
Pip watched Rue savor the muffin over the counter, nodding in approval as she rolled out dough. "You look like you're settling in already. How about I walk you part of the way? Just to make sure you don't end up in another bakery."
The young apprentice glanced at her cart, at the directions, and then back to Pip. Her smile was brighter than the Bramblehook sun. "Would you?"
Pip shrugged as if it were nothing at all. "Why not?" she said. "I can show you the best way to avoid the hills. Besides, I can't have you ending up at the competition."
Rue chuckled, her relief almost palpable. "I'd like that," she said. "I'd like that a lot."
"Then it's settled!" Pip declared. "As soon as you finish your muffin."
Rue nodded, savoring another bite. She didn't know if it was the warm bakery or Pip's kindness, but for the first time, Bramblehook didn't seem so tangled. The paths looked clearer already.
Not much later, the two girls made their way through Bramblehook, one cartwheeling forward with the exuberance of a summer storm, the other trailing behind like a lost sparrow. Rue found Pip's enthusiasm contagious, but her own steps were far more hesitant. The village unfolded before them, each twist and turn revealing a new sight or story. Pip animatedly shared one about the time an enchanted sourdough starter escaped its jar and nearly took over the shop. Rue laughed so hard she nearly ran her cart off the path, the sound reverberating through the quiet cobblestone streets and against the shuttered cottages that lined the paths. Her laughter didn't die as quickly as her self-consciousness wanted it to. She felt less lost and far less alone with Pip at her side.
The winding paths seemed clearer now that she had a guide. Rue glanced around, seeing the village with fresh eyes. It wasn't as tangled as it first appeared. Or maybe it was, but she didn't mind so much. With Pip at her side, the jumble looked more like a friendly challenge than an insurmountable maze.
"You know," Pip said, pausing to let Rue catch up, "I thought you'd never get here."
Rue blinked, a little puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"Well, we've been expecting you," Pip explained. "Granny Thorn's been talking about an apprentice for ages. You're the big news around here."
"Me?" Rue said, shocked and amused at the same time.
Pip grinned. "You're even more famous than the sourdough monster!"
The young apprentice's laughter bubbled up again, unexpected and bright. "Is that why you helped me so fast? Because everyone's talking about me?"
Pip nodded. "That, and because you looked about as lost as a mouse in a bread bin." She pointed ahead to where the road forked. "That's your path."
Rue stared at the road, the excitement building in her chest. Tall trees twisted along the sides as it disappeared over a hill. "Thank you, Pip," she said, more seriously. "I'd never have found my way without you."
Pip lingered, as if considering whether to go with Rue a little further. "You're sure you'll make it?" she asked. "You've got the map and the directions…"
The young apprentice felt a rush of gratitude. "I'm sure."
"Well, then," Pip said, giving Rue a mock salute. "Consider me your final sign. That way to Granny Thorn's!"
The sound of Pip's humming echoed after her as she turned back toward the bakery, leaving Rue with more than a hint of reluctance in her eyes. She sure had been nice. She wasn't sure that anyone at the Capital would have dropped everything to help a stranger like that. Maybe Bramblehook really will be a nice place to live.
Alone again, Rue followed the path with more confidence than before. Her cart rattled behind her, and she began to hum a little tune that sounded suspiciously like the one Pip had been humming, though she'd never heard the song before. The further she went, the quieter the village became, until the only sound was the creaking of wheels and the wind rustling through the trees.
She walked, and walked, and walked. Her arms grew tired from dragging the cart, but she kept her eyes on the path, determined not to miss another turn.
At last, she saw it. A small, moss-covered cottage nestled among a large garden of herbs and flowers. Her heart gave another hopeful flutter. This was it. This was where she belonged. She picked up her pace, eager to see more.
The door opened before she could knock. An old woman stood in the doorway, small and silver-haired, with sharp eyes that missed nothing. She looked at Rue, at the cart, then back at Rue. Her gaze was as pointed as Rue's ears, and the young apprentice felt herself shrink under the scrutiny.
The silence stretched, as thick and stubborn as a patch of weeds. Rue swallowed, opened her mouth, then closed it again. What if Granny Thorn expected someone more experienced? Someone less clumsy and unsure? Her doubts bloomed like dandelions, and she wished Pip were there to weed them out.
Granny Thorn crossed her arms, her eyes never leaving Rue's face. Then, without warning, the smallest of smiles tugged at the corner of her mouth. "You'll do," she said, as if those two words were a grand pronouncement.
Rue almost laughed, but she wasn't quite sure if it was a joke. She settled for a weak smile and a hopeful look.
Granny Thorn nodded toward the open door. "Well? Are you coming in or standing there until you take root?"
Rue pushed the cart forward, the relief washing over her like a cool rain.
The interior of the cottage was unlike anything Rue had ever seen. Cozy, cluttered, filled with strange plants and odder trinkets. It was as if someone had turned a garden into a house, and then decided to add everything else just in case.
She looked around in awe, taking in the crooked shelves and worn rugs. It felt wild and welcoming all at once. More like home than any place Rue had ever known.
Granny Thorn moved through the chaos with practiced ease. "Not what you expected?" she said, glancing at Rue's wide eyes.
The young apprentice hesitated. "I—I'm not sure," she admitted. "I've never seen anything like it."
The older woman looked at her, at the cart, then at the stairs leading up to the attic. Rue felt that pointed gaze all over again. "You can unpack up there," Granny said. "Mind the loose floorboards."
Rue took a breath, trying to find her voice. "Thank you, Granny Thorn. I—"
But the older woman was already busy with a tangled mass of yarn and twine, her attention somewhere between the mess and Rue. "Well?" she said, not unkindly. "Don't just stand there waiting to be planted."
Rue nodded, unsure whether she should apologize. She turned toward the stairs, then paused. "I'll get started right away!" she called, her enthusiasm a little too loud in the quiet cottage. Then, a bit quieter, "I won't get in your way. I promise!."
Granny Thorn looked up, and for a moment Rue thought she saw the beginning of another smile. "We'll see," the old woman said.
The young apprentice took her cart up the stairs, feeling like she'd wandered into another world entirely. Her heart was light, and her arms were heavy, and her head was full of possibilities. She couldn't help but think Pip was right. She'd found her way after all.
It took her quite a few trips up and down the stairs, but she eagerly unpacked her cart. The attic room was already full of things, but luckily Rue had only her books and plant cuttings. The air was filled with the smell of old paper and a hint of mystery, like an unspoken promise of adventures waiting to be found. Creaky beams whispered in the evening breeze overhead, and the fading light cast long shadows across the patchwork quilt on the bed. She arranged her belongings with care, feeling a sense of order in the midst of the cottage's charming chaos.
It was a cozy space, snug and filled with odd trinkets that told stories Rue longed to hear. She placed the books on a small shelf, each title a reminder of what she had learned to get here. The plant cuttings found their home on the windowsill, their leaves brushing against the dusty glass. She tucked her pouches into a corner, less concerned with their disarray than she had been earlier in the day.
The room seemed to breathe around her, welcoming her into its cluttered embrace. She turned in a slow circle, taking it all in—the worn floorboards, the shelves stuffed with papers and strange stones, the patchwork quilt that promised warmth and comfort. She had never seen a place so full of things and possibilities. Each creak and shadow felt like an invitation.
By the time she finished unpacking, the light was soft and dim, wrapping the room in shades of twilight. She paused to admire her handiwork, feeling a satisfaction as deep as the clutter around her. It was a start, a beginning. An adventure waiting to unfold, like the ones she used to read about as a kid.
Later, when the room was still and the cold light from the moon seeped in through the attic window, Rue lay awake on the bed in her simple nightgown, her eyes tracing the patterns in the darkness. The unfamiliar space kept her mind buzzing and her senses sharp. The sounds of the cottage crept in on tiptoes, gentle and persistent.
The events of the day spun through her thoughts like a lively dance. The village, the bakery, Pip's bright smile, and Granny Thorn's scrutinizing gaze—all new, all hers. The uncertainty she had felt was fading, replaced by a thrill of excitement. She had made it to Bramblehook. She had found a place where she belonged.
Just as she thought she might drift off, a strange thumping from below caught her attention. Each sound was as insistent as her own curiosity, echoing up to the attic like a dare. Rue sat up, her interest piqued.
Unable to resist the lure of exploration, she decided to investigate. She slipped from the bed, picking up her small lamp, her movements quiet and determined. The cottage felt different at night, the clutter and shadows weaving new patterns around her. It was as if everything had shifted while she lay still, waiting for her to catch up.
She followed the sounds down the stairs, her steps tentative at first but growing bolder with each creak of the old wood. The noises led her deeper into the cottage, turning corners and winding through the cozy chaos until she found a small trap door in the floorboards of a disused closet.
Rue was as wide-eyed as a child discovering a secret hideaway, and the thrill of it chased away any lingering tiredness. She forgot the hour and the day, focused only on the mysteries around her. She pulled open the creaky hatch and stepped down onto a rickety wooden staircase. Every sound, every shadow seemed like part of the adventure.
At the bottom, she found herself in a root cellar. It was a world all its own, cool and earthy, with the scent of herbs and dampness hanging in the air. Shelves crammed full of jars and bottles loomed before her, their contents as varied and mysterious as the cottage itself.
Rue's heart leapt at the sight of the chaos. Her fingers itched to begin the task of organizing it all, and her mind danced with the possibilities of what she might discover along the way. The space felt alive with potential, and she could hardly contain her excitement.
She moved deeper into the cellar, running her hands along the crowded shelves. Everything was in disarray, a jumble of labels and lids. To Rue, it was perfect. She loved the disorder, the sense that something unexpected might be hiding behind each jar. It was an explorer's dream, and she was ready to dive in.
She followed the thumping sound around to a shelf full of old cookware. She pushed her hands past them, pushing the pots and pans apart looking for the source until her fingers brushed against a jar tucked behind an old cauldron, the label faded and dusty. It shook back and forth as if something inside it were jumping against the lid. She pulled it out carefully, squinting to read the writing. "Grimsap," it said in Granny Thorn's uneven hand.
A soft, wordless whisper seemed to emanate from the jar as Rue wiped away the dust, sending a shiver down her spine, but her curiosity was far stronger than her fear. She held the jar up to the light, peering inside.
The contents were a thick, dark substance that seemed to shift slightly even when the jar remained still. Rue couldn't look away. She was sure she'd never come across the name "Grimsap" in her study. It was a mystery within a mystery, waiting for her to uncover its secrets.
She clutched the jar with a sense of triumph, hardly believing her luck. Her exploration had led her to something truly strange and wonderful. She felt a thrill of adventure and discovery, as if the cottage was revealing its secrets just for her.
With the Grimsap in hand, she headed back upstairs, her excitement bubbling over. She was sure Granny Thorn would know all about it. Maybe they could work on organizing the cellar together, uncovering even more hidden treasures.
Rue's mind raced with possibilities as she reached the kitchen, the jar cradled like a prize, her heart as full as her hands. She found Granny Thorn in the kitchen, a stern figure against the warm glow of candlelight. The old woman's hands were steady as she prepared a late-night tea, her movements careful and deliberate. But when she spotted the jar in Rue's hands, her composure shattered like the teacup she dropped on the floor.
"Where did you find that?" Granny's voice was sharp with alarm, cutting through the cozy kitchen air.
Rue blinked, taken aback by the intensity of the question. "In the root cellar," she managed to say. "I thought—"
But before Rue could stammer out a full reply, Granny snatched the jar and moved swiftly to a corner cabinet, revealing a hidden compartment. The old woman shoved the jar inside and closed it, muttering an incantation that made the air crackle with energy. A glowing seal appeared on the cabinet door momentarily before fading back to the dull woodgrain.
Rue watched, her excitement turning to confusion. What was this Grimsap? Why such a reaction? She ventured to ask, but Granny's expression closed like the trapdoor to the cellar.
"Not tonight," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Go to bed, child. Some questions are better left for daylight."