The packed shelves of the apothecary storeroom are sorted with an arcane system known to nobody. Piles of tomes and notes that haven't been touched in ages are scattered about everywhere. The corners are caked with dust, cobwebs, who knows what else. The witch hadn't had much time to clean or sort through what the previous owner left her yet, and things were looking more shabby than lived-in. How do you alphabetize something when you don't know the letters? Are things sorted by color? Date last thought about? Things would be easier if she could just magic away the dust and move things into their rightful place with her mind. Alas, the witch was not that kind of witch. Time to break out the broom and dustpan. At least the shop is closed today. The perfect time to get some things done.

The witch is whirling around the shop with her feather duster when she hears a knock at the door. First she checks if the "closed" sign is properly flipped, which it is, and then peers through the door's peephole. This shop doesn't handle emergency visits, not yet. A bearded, freckled man in overalls is standing outside. He's fidgeting with the straw hat in his hands. The witch decides to be polite and open the door.

"Hello? Oh, is this uh--" the man starts, glancing over at the apothecary sign and back again. "I s'pose I was expecting someone else."

The witch gives a small nod in response, still with her head poked through the barely open doorway.

"Sorry to bother you, but could you help me? I'm not sick, no, but my pigs-- they've escaped. Again."

The witch's eyebrows raise slightly. "Pigs? This isn't my usual line of work, but I can try to help. Where do you think they've run off to?"

The man gestures widely and looks around left and right. "Anywhere, really. They're quite the adventurous type. You leave that gate open for one second, and they're all off on their own journeys. I figured you, well, with your business, you're off prancing about and might run into 'em while you're out there."

"I am, yes," the witch replies. "I suppose it won't be any real trouble. I can keep an eye out."

The man wipes his brow and lets out a sigh of relief. "Thank you! Oh, thank you. I've got the whole town recruited for pig-wrangling, but Grim here always had the magic touch."

"I hope I can live up to your expectations," the witch says with a smirk.

The man chuckles. "She never did agree quite so readily, though. Well, anyhow, holler if you find 'em. I'll return the favor." He puts his hat back on with a nod, turns to leave, and gets halfway down the pebble path when the witch opens the door again.

"Wait! Who are you?" she shouts after him.

He stops and looks over his shoulder, shaking his head with a smile. "I'm Morris. I own the farm down the road."

"Okay, thanks Morris! Bye!" the witch yells back a bit sheepishly. She had only been in High Rannoc for a month or two, most of that spent hunched over her tools, but that doesn't excuse never meeting your neighbors. She knows some people, the shopkeeper. The woman who works at the garden stall. And Craig, of course. She goes to the counter and jots down a few notes in her foraging logbook. Pigs. Checkbox. Meet the townspeople. The witch looks around her workspace to see if there are any more things to do. Some of the supply jars are running low, and more are completely empty. Shopping. The pocketwatch on the counter catches her eye.

The pocketwatch is a tarnished bronze color with a worn leather strap. There is a beautifully engraved "L" on the inside cover, and the watch face is minimal and faded. The hands tick and tock properly, although there's no visible way to wind it. The witch picked it up thinking it might be worth a bit of money, but after looking at it, it seems quite ordinary. Ordinary, but with some memories. No monetary value to the memories, but its energy makes her feel like someone might be missing it.

Return pocketwatch. Checkbox.

The Village of High Rannoc

High Rannoc is not a large village, but the town square is bustling enough to keep everyone entertained and in business. The tavern is always full of customers, although with varying noise levels throughout the week. Today a few patrons are eating lunch on the stoop, chit chatting and watching people pass by. A horse pulling a small wagon clip-clops across the cobblestone road. In the middle, there's a large tree with a flute player sitting on one of the surrounding benches. A small crowd has gathered to listen. A couple market stalls are set up to sell early-season crops and goods. A woman notices the witch and gives her a friendly wave over.

"Sophie, hello! What have you got in today?" says the witch. There is a bowl of brown mushrooms that look useful, along with some other expensive and foreign-looking plants laid out in bundles.

"You wouldn't happen to know anyone who might be missing this?" The witch holds up the pocketwatch. "Craig picked it up the other day and it felt different than the usual bits and bobs."

Sophie takes the pocketwatch and examines it, weighing it in her hands. "No, I don't think so, but it might fetch a pretty penny!

"It's not for sale today. It seems important for some reason, so I'd like to find the owner."

"Who have we got with L's in town? Lamberty? Larriston? Ledore?"

The witch doesn't recognize any of these names, but hmms and nods anyway. She pays for her mushrooms and says goodbye. These are coffee cap mushrooms, which are great for tiresome ailments, or just a nice hot beverage. A good find. Craig is over by the flautist, although he's more occupied by the birds than the music. The witch sits and listens for a few songs, enjoying this peaceful spring afternoon.

The flute player finishes up their performance and the crowd, which has built up sizeably, gives a polite applause. They are mid-bow when someone in the crowd yells out.

"Pig!"

The flautist looks insulted.

"There's a pig!

And then a clatter of baskets and apples falling to the ground, and a flash of tiny hooves zipping across the town square. Someone in the crowd stands up and points animatedly. "There it goes!!" Some crowd members look towards the pointing man. What's going on? What's the hubbub? But you could tell who's been in High Rannoc for a while, because they've all hopped to their feet and started running in a pack at full speed. The witch has stood up, but the sudden rush of the crowd has left her spinning. It didn't take long for this peaceful day to turn into madness. The tavern keeper across the way looks out from his shop, but shakes his head and shuts the door. The pack rushes through the market area, zigging and zagging as best they can through the stalls and tight back alleyways. But the pig is small, speedy, and swift and evades them easily. It does a loop and runs back through the town square with a shiny red fruit in its mouth and disappears into a small sewer opening. A few people have caught up and are peering into the hole, but it's too narrow for anyone to follow, and the pig is far out of sight.

The crowd gathers back at the town square, needing a plan. This pig is too fast to keep sprinting and diving after it. Some strategic placements, guarding the exits. Maybe the pig would get sleepy and they could sneak up on it. Could they lure it out and set a trap? Sophie pulls on the witch's sleeve and brings her into the huddle. Well, this counts as meeting the townspeople as good as anything else.

"Do you have any potions that might help us?" asks Sophie.

The witch thinks. There are a few reagents that can help someone fall asleep. "I can make a sleeping potion, but how are we going to get the pig to drink it?"

"Could we throw it at him? Get him all sneakylike and wham, out like a log!" suggests a villager.

"Maybe if we make it really tasty. Make it a nice breakfast with some fruit,"

"No, no, we need to diffuse it through the air! Like the sleepy fogs of Magog Bog!"

The townspeople go back and forth, getting heated as the ideas get more and more ridiculous. But the delivery plan is worth nothing if they don't have a potion. Luckily, one of the best sleeping agents in town can be found right in the village. Rumor has it that if you befriend a stray cat, it might let you bottle its whisper. The whisper of forest cats is more potent, but how strong does a potion for a little piggie really need to be? The other ingredients are also easy to gather, just some sweetberries and water. The day has quickly turned to evening with all the excitement. Perfect timing, since this is when the cats come out to play. The witch sets out to collect the ingredients, and heads home for the night.

The next day, the witch wakes up with a jolt. After a late night of potion making, she had fallen asleep at the counter. Maybe that cat's whisker was a bit stronger than she thought. But the potion seems to have been made and is ready to bottle up. The witch decides to brew a nice strong drink with the coffee cap mushrooms before heading out to greet the townspeople. Hopefully they've come up with a plan to catch that pig today, because she's not spending another day watching them sprint around town recklessly. That's just tiresome.

Potion in one hand and coffee in the other, the witch is off. And it looks like they've settled on the breakfast plan. It's not just a breakfast for one though. The smell of freshly cooked meat and eggs hits the witch's nose before she sees the giant picnic spread set up throughout the square.

"What is this?"

she asks someone just about to put a big forkful of pancakes in his mouth.

"Well, we were up all night planning, and then we got hungry! What else were we supposed to do?

"But how is this supposed to..." she starts, but he has already started wolfing down his meal and clearly has nothing else to contribute. The witch walks around past all the different food stalls that had popped up overnight. Fruit parfaits, pancakes and waffles, is that bacon? This town sure can rally around a cause, even if they seem to have forgotten what it was. Everyone looks very happy though, chatting and eating merrily. The witch grabs a plate with some goodies and heads towards a quiet bench near the edge of the square. At least here she's got a good view and can keep an eye out for the pig while she eats. She takes a few bites and it is delicious. The sun peeks out from behind a cloud and a nice warm sunbeam warms the area. It is a gorgeous morning.

And then the witch wakes up again. Did she doze off? What time is it? She blinks to clear her groggy eyes and sees the townspeople sprawled out on their picnic blankets across the square. It's quiet and peaceful except for a few snorers. One of those snores sounds pretty loud actually. The witch gets her bearings as being awake sets in, and she looks around. Well, well. What do you know, she has a friend flopped down next to her on the bench. And it's eaten the rest of her breakfast! A little spotted pig matching the suspect's description perfectly. She checks her robe pockets, and the potion is still there, untouched. Guess everyone just needed a nap after a long night and a big feast. This pig is pretty small for all the commotion it caused, and the witch is able to hoist it up with one arm. Time to go home, buddy.

The farmer is outside tending to his crops when the witch arrives.

"Look who I found!" she says.

Farmer Morris looks up. "Wow, you're a natural. Got one already." He doesn't sound too impressed, though. "Zippy here usually stays in town, though. And usually comes home after a short romp around the fruit stands. The others might be a bit harder."

"Harder? The others? How many pigs do you have?" the witch asks. "This one took a day and an entire village!"

The farmer chews on the wheat in his mouth and continues with his farm chores. "Oh, just a few."

"You don't seem too worried about them."

"They always get home one way or another. You're off to a good start."

10/25/2022