Title: among the mist and the trees
Fandom: Emelan by Tamora Pierce
Rating: G / No AO3 Warnings Apply
Length: 1291
Author notes: Title from the song "Somewhere on this Mountain" by Nefesh Mountain
Summary: Lark, irritated by Little Bear the dog, asks the children to take him outside. He decides it's time for fetch.



“Shurri defend me!” comes Lark’s voice from her workroom, louder and harsher than usual. The steady rhythm of her weaving stops suddenly, leaving the cottage in unusual silence, until her footsteps echo on the wooden floor.

Tris looks up from the slate that Nico’s given her to work out tide calculations, her shoulders tense, and catches Sandry looking up from her embroidery. “She sounds angry,” Tris whispers urgently, quiet and apparently still expecting anger of any sort to be taken out on her.

Sandry shakes her head, but it’s Briar who answers. “That ain’t Rosethorn in that workroom,” he says, slipping back into the well-worn cadence of street speech on purpose and getting an eye roll out of Tris. “Never known Lark to take out her angries on anyone else.” Quick as a flash, he reaches out with one of the sprigs of dandelion he’s holding and tickles Tris’s cheek.

“Briar!” she cries, just as the door to the workroom snicks open. All three heads turn towards the sound. Lark’s face is tired, her normally serene expression weighed down a bit, and she’s not alone - Little Bear ambles out of the workroom, his tail hanging low, though not quite between his legs. He glances between the three at the table, head almost in time with Lark’s looks at each of them, and Sandry has to suppress a giggle.

A tired smile brightens Lark’s face, just a tad. “If I’m needing a break, you all likely are, too.” She reaches into the pocket of her habit and pulls out the iron token that will let them roam the temple grounds. “Go pick up Daja from Frostpine’s, and take Little Bear out to work off some of his energy.” Her smile turns rueful. “He’s poking his nose into everything in my workroom and it’s driving me batty. I’d rather not start shouting just because it’s a muggy day and I’m upset with the dog.”

After dropping the iron token into Tris’s outstretched hand, she steps back into her workroom, closing the door fully behind her this time so Little Bear can’t follow her back in. He whines, low and petulant, but stops as soon as Tris puts her other hand on his head. She glances back at Lark’s door with narrowed eyes, like she expects some kind of trick, even after all this time.

Dropping the handful of dandelion roots he’s been holding, Briar hops up from his chair and gestures to the door. “Come on! Lark won’t change her mind, she isn’t like that, but there’s no use waiting if we don’t have to. Let’s get Daja and then head for the Hub - Dedicate Gorse will have something tasty, you know he will.”

Sandry laughs outright this time, dropping her embroidery hoop to the table and threading her needle through the cloth. “No surprise that you’re wanting to stop by the kitchens, Sir Thinks-With-His-Stomach.” Standing too, she looks over at Tris, still seated and rolling the iron token over and through her fingers. “Come on. It’ll be less muggy outside.”

“This is true,” Tris says, standing and fussily shaking out her skirts as if to get dust off. “Even without a true breeze, the air currents are constantly moving outside, and it’s much less stuffy than inside even with all the windows -” Her spiel cuts off in mid-sentence as Sandry grabs one of her hands and yanks her towards the door, knocking her off-balance.

“Come on, weather girl,” Briar quips, following them. “Talk Gorse’s ear off while he gives us a bite.”

The sound Tris makes is very akin to a snort, but neither Briar nor Sandry makes the comparison out loud. “At least that’s better than Coppercurls,” she grumps, pushing open the door.

Little Bear barks twice, short and loud, then runs in a tight circle around the three children, before gamboling off down the spiral road. The walk to Frostpine’s forge is uneventful, most of the temple community still slow to emerge from the midday rest period. Frostpine lets Daja go with a wink and a grin, and they all troop back up the spiral road before cutting across to get to the Hub.

Suddenly Little Bear tears off to one side, darting towards a small copse of trees nestled between two loops of the road. “Little Bear!” Briar shouts, readying to chase and keep the dog from doing something untoward to any of the green lives there. But before he can get far, Little Bear emerges from the trees again, a foot-long, mostly-straight branch clasped in his jaws. He skids to a stop in front of Briar, shuffling on his big paws almost like he’s dancing, and drops the stick at Briar’s feet.

Sandry giggles again, gesturing at the stick. “It seems like he wants you to play.”

With a groan, clearly exaggerated, Briar leans down and picks up the branch - dead as a doornail, so he’s okay with throwing it. It sails over the road back towards the copse of trees, end over end, and Little Bear takes off after it with a delighted bark. With a leap he intercepts it, snatching it out of the air, and races back to the four of them. This time he drops it in front of Tris, who shakes her head with disdain that’s more than a little put on and tosses the stick for the dog.

When he returns again, dropping the stick in front of Daja, a familiar voice makes them all jump. “It seems Little Bear has discovered fetch,” Rosethorn says. The children all turn to find her standing on the spiral road, joined by Dedicate Crane, who looks down his nose at the four of them with actual disdain, but softens a little when he looks at Briar and Tris.

Rosethorn holds her hand out to Daja, who gives her the stick with raised eyebrows. Tris’s mouth drops open, only closing when Daja taps her chin with the hand now freed of the stick. Little Bear’s bark mingles with Rosethorn’s laugh as she throws the stick back into the air. When he brings it back, he doesn’t hesitate - he steps right back up to Rosethorn, waiting until she puts her hand back out to drop the stick directly into it.

But she doesn’t throw it again. Instead she turns to Crane, his impeccable yellow habit contrasting sharply with her dirt-covered green one, and holds the stick out to him without a word. His mouth drops open in an expression so like Tris’s that both Briar and Sandry have to stifle laughter, and Rosethorn’s face brightens into a small, lopsided smile.

“Try it. It’ll be good for you,” she says, not budging. With a huff, Crane takes the stick gingerly, with only the tips of his fingers, and flings it away from himself as quickly as he can. It pops upward into the air before arcing back down. Little Bear lolls his tongue at Crane as if to say “really?” but lopes after the stick anyways, catching it neatly just before it hits the ground.

There’s a quiver in Crane’s lip as he says, “Most undignified,” and stalks off, shaking his head. Rosethorn bursts into full laughter, tossing the stick once more for the dog before handing it back to Daja.

“You all head on wherever you’re going. I’m heading home. Make sure that dog gets his energy out before you bring him back.” She turns to head in the opposite direction from where Crane had gone, back towards Discipline.

The four stare after her for long moments, until Briar finally voices the question. “Did she really just get His Highness to throw a stick for a dog?”

All four of them give in to peals of laughter.