After their greeting Father was silent as they walked through the forest, heading hubwards towards the Mill Road. Wilting under his disapproval Jane took the tiara off and stowed it in her sack. She didn't need it in the daylight. She kept the ring on. It was yet another thing to set her apart, after all villagers didn't wear rings, but the stamina boost it gave was worth her father's glares.

George walked with Mr Brewster. Mouth open as if he was about to say something he glanced at Jane but remained silent. After the third time this happened, Jane dropped back to walk beside him," George, I don't bite, you can talk to me you know."

The boy shrugged, his hood falling back over his shoulders." It's just weird. I've never met anyone cursed before. Why are you carrying a broom?"

"I don't think it's a curse, and the broom is magic. I can make it fly as you saw. If only it wasn't so slow." Jane said. She scanned the woodlands about them. The dense canopy left the ground in shadow, In places it was dark enough that Jane considered putting her Tiara back on.

Then in the distance to their left she spotted feathery leaves. A slender tree growing in a small clearing lept out at her, it held so much magic. "George, a Rowan tree!"

"Yea, we saw it coming out. Where are you going?"

Jane spun around walking backwards for several steps, then spun again. "It's a Rowan tree, and that means herbs. Hasn't the Druid been teaching you herb lore?"

"Yea, but now isn't really the time."

"Dad, Wait a moment." Jane called raising her voice. "Me and George need to collect herbs."

Jane almost danced up to the tree, scanning the ground about its roots. It was hard to miss the Sorrell, its broad red veined leaves, growing in dense bunches between the rowan roots. "Shoot, I lost my knife, do you have a sickle?"

George pulled the sickle from where it hung at his belt and held it out to her. When Jane took it their fingers touched. He pulled his hand back as if her hand was a glowing coal.

With a sigh Jane harvested sorrel, she cut six generous bunches. "Are you going to gather some too?"

"We have a herb garden in the grove, so we need not collect in the forest."

"I found Mudcaps earlier, you think Druid Starskie would trade me some Madder and Balm Lily?"

"Will you two hurry." Her father shouted from where he waited, leaning against a tree trunk, his foot tapping against a root. "I don't have time for gallivanting, there's work to do."

Jane winced at her father's words and took George's hand. "Come on lets go."

He tried to pull his hand back, his face growing redder and redder, when it wouldn't come free.

"I told you I don't bite, will you calm down and act like a friend again?"

"It's just your shirt. It is rather threadbare, and it leaves things visible. And I'm with Becca and I shouldn't be looking at other girls."

"Paul never said anything." Jane said, dropping his hand again. She looked at her shirt. It was an old shirt, and it was clinging to certain areas. Well there wasn't anything to be done about it. "That rat! I will kill him, twice. Wait Are you saying that if you weren't with Becca you'd be staring at my chest?"

George sputtered. "No, I mean I didn't. I was trying not to look OK."

She patted him on the back, laughing at the confused look on his face. "OK, I'll walk behind you where you aren't tempted to look."

Jane let George get ahead of her, and they reverted to silence again, but it was different this time, George walked beside her with no more furtive glances. "You're not really going to kill Paul are you."

"He robbed me and left me! I was unconscious, and he left me for dead." She said then sighed, forcing her shoulders to relax. "But no I'm not really going to kill him."

It didn't take long to reach the edge of the Mill road. It wasn't much of a road, just two ruts in the dirt marking where generations of wagons had travelled. A trickle of trade moved in both directions all summer long. Food and adventurers heading for the mines in Hillfort and Iron Ingots heading for Fort White on the Spindle.

Walking along a cleared wagon rut was faster than picking a way through the forest and it wasn't even lunch time when the four of them paused outside the Brewster's tavern.

The tavern was a long wattle and daube building, maybe the size of two cottages joined end to end. Several yards away was a long barn for horses and a loft for their owners. The thin plank walls didn't provide much protection from the cold, but then the there were few travellers come winter. lightweight awnings provided shade for four outdoor tables. John and his Father had helped the Brewsters put them up a month ago, and would take them down again before winter. At this time of day only a few older villagers were present, sipping cider under the awning while their smallest grandchildren chased each other on the bank of the stream.

"Are you sure you won't step in for a moment, The pies will be cool by now?" Mr Brewster said. In something of a reversal of convention Mr Brewster did most of the Tavern's cooking while his wife did the brewing, which worked out better for everybody. His pies where to die for, no matter what filling he used and Mrs Brewster's cider was perfect every time.

"No, not today, we best be getting on to see the Druid." Father said, turning back to the road. The mill stream, after which the road got its name, had been dug generations ago, and ran along the entire rimward edge of Lambford, while Regina's creek wend its way hubwards around the town proper.

George let the white hood fall to his shoulders. He stood there, rubbing his hands together for several moments before looking up at Jane and looking away again. "I guess I'll see you later John, I mean Jane."

"Bye George, say hi to Becca for me." Jane said. She had to run to catch up with her father who marched towards the grove. Druid Starskie had lived ever since his wife died.

"I didn't mean to do it." Jane said, trying to strike up a conversation for the umpteenth time as she jogged to keep up with her father.

"There's lots of things folk didn't mean to do, but done is done." His reply was low, and he didn't so much as look at her, as they passed from the Mill road into the grove.

The trees here had a blue-green tint to their leaves that stayed on even in mid winter. The Grove wasn't just a peaceful place it imposed peace on anyone who ventured into it. A man could march in intent on murder and he would end up standing there gazing at his victim in confusion. Jane saw the magic hitting her father with every step. The creases in his forehead smoothed out, his eyes widened and his fingers uncurled, until they rested against his sides.

The path between the trees was never the same twice. John used to delight in leaving marks on the trees and then returning a half glass later to search for them. All four of them, Him, Paul George and Becca, played that game. No matter how many marks they made none of them ever found a single one again.

That was then. Today things were different, today there was no path. Her father disappeared between two massive tree-trunks. The branches shifted behind him blocking her path before she could take two steps. She backed up. The gap she had used to enter the grove was gone. The branches behind her where just as impenetrable as those in front.
The trees had boxed her in, weaving their branches together until Jane could not move more than a foot in any direction. She picked a branch at random and pushed against it. "Help."

There was no answer. When Jane stood still the branches receded, and untangled, but every time she moved they tightened again. "Well then I guess I'll stay right here."

If the trees heard her, they gave no sign.

She stood there tapping her foot and counting under her breath. When nothing had changed after a count of three hundred she sat cross legged on the ground and closed her eyes. Without the distraction of sight she felt the protective magics on the grove. They caught anyone who might be a threat. A few years ago a man wanted for murder in Hillfort had been trapped in the grove. Druid Starskie kept him there until the Duke's guards came to take him back to face justice. Now the grove deemed her a threat too.

"Well, well, what have my trees caught today?"

The druid appeared without disrupting the webwork of magic. Even though she had her magical sight open, she didn't sense him coming. Jane smiled towards the thin sound of his voice. Druid Starskie always whispered and yet that whisper could cut across a noisy bar room.

"Good morning sir, It's me Jane. I mean John. That is I used to be John, gods this is confusing."

The Druid turned to face her, his milk white eyes seeming to drill into her core. He'd been blind as long as Jane could remember and yet it never appeared to bother him. "Do you pledge to work no magic in my grove?"

"Yes sir, I do."

He waved a hand, and the trees untangled, revealing the inner clearing. "Then you and your stick may enter."

Two strides took Jane from the trees into the clearing where her father was waiting. Perched on Druid Starskie's outdoor table, he had his arms folded over his chest.

Jane's stomach growled. In the time she'd been stuck in the trees George had eaten pie and there he was on the far side of the clearing, weeding a herb garden. He waved to her, "Hay John, I mean Jane, We have the Madder you wanted."

Jane waved in reply, then shot her father a glare, which he didn't notice as she approached the table. It stood just outside the Medicine hut and was where the Druid consulted his visitors on most days. Two more huts stood behind the medicine hut. Unlike the cottages in town these where low circular structures with earth covered rooves. The first was the Druid's old hut. It had been there so long that the turf had grown over it making it look like part of the land. The one behind it was far newer the earth on its roof still raw and free of growth. It was where Becca and George now lived. The only other building in sight was the temple, an open shed on the far side of the clearing.

Jane saw the alters where villagers would leave offerings to the gods. The Green Man and Mother Night had pride of place. Three of their children, the Farmer, the Crafter and the Peddler were also represented. The divine family was far larger than these five, many other gods were worshiped in the human kingdoms. Lambford was a small village the gods of the common people where enough. John had looked to the Crafter, but Jane wasn't sure anymore.

Perhaps the Moon Child would be a better fit now. After all Grom had claimed affinity with the moon. Respectable villagers didn't worship the troublesome moon child, so it was not in the tabula. Or was it? Now that Jane looked she saw a smiling face peaking out from behind Mother Night's robes. That it was a face, and a child was clear but there was no telling whether it was a boy or a girl. Even the hair was too indistinct and wild to give a hint. It looked just as weathered as the rest of the wooden carving, but Jane was uncertain that it had been there yesterday.

"Well, can you remove the curse?" Her father, who had been talking all the while, demanded. He was still standing beside the table, arms folded, and feet planted on the ground.

The old druid smiled in response. "If only you where as patient with people as you are with your timber. Now sit, and we will have tea."

Jane sat while the Druid disappeared into the second hut. He soon returned, walking across the clearing with confidence. he sidestepped the fire pit and didn't so much as kick a loose stone. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting so long, I was deep in my meditations and unaware you had returned."

Jane suspected his meditations had been taking place over Mrs Brewster's cider. She almost smiled at the thought, only stopping at the last moment. Despite his dead eyes the Druid had a knack for noticing sass.
The earthenware teapot had belonged to the Druids wife. it was brightly glazed and had a pattern of pink flowers all over it. Lazy curls of steam rose from the spout. Jane inhaled the steam to distract herself. "Camomile and Albin's Wart, should I pour."

"Ah, you know your herbs girl." he said, smiling at her to continue.

"Boy." her father interjected. "John Jr is a boy."

Jane poured three cups of tea. Her father just glared at his, while the Druid sipped, and smacked his lips. He turned towards Jane's father, "Drink your tea John."

While this was going on Jane sipped her own tea, savouring the minty flavour of the wart overlayed with the sweetness of the camomile. "I found sorrel on our way home. I will try my hand at a healing salve. I was hoping to get Madder and Balm Lily."

"Ah, planning to make Berserker's brew are we. Well Madder we have as young George told you, but Balm Lily, I'm afraid that is scarce in these parts." he said, stroking his beard as he talked. "You'd have to find a trader up from the delta for that, they charge an arm and a leg. Perhaps we can discuss herb law later, Now why don't you start at the beginning and tell me what brings you here today."

Jane took another sip of tea to wet her throat. "There was an Ogre living at the well. Did you know?"

The Druid's eyebrows rose, at Janes words. "That's, that's preposterous. there are no Ogres in these woods. What ever you found down there it was not an Ogre. If there were Ogres, I'd know about it."

"Enough of the tall tale's boy. Tell the Druid how you got cursed." Father said, slapping the table for emphasis. the jolt of it made his teacup wobble.

"I'm sure it was an Ogre sir, but that came later." She said, taking another sip of tea. "Our first fight was against some goblins. We'd just climbed down the well when we were ambushed. One of them disarmed me, so I needed another weapon. I grabbed onto this broom."

"Why did you grab the broom?" Druid Starskie said.

Jane willed the broom to shift to its battle form but it remained broom shaped. "It's a quarterstaff when it wants to be. Anyway, I picked it up, and I got all these notifications. The goblins where right behind us so I may have accepted them without reading."

"Gods," Jane's father exclaimed. "What kind of fool ignores the gods!"

"When the fight was over, I was a witch. Being a girl came with the class, boys can't be witches."

Druid Starskie raised a hand, making her pause in her story. "So you accepted the class, and the other changes? What does your character sheet say?"

"It says I'm a girl."

Her father waved a hand in her direction, his cooling teacup still full before him. "So can you fix him?"

"No. Jane is not cursed. She was changed of her own free will," he said. "Such changes are permanent. Now enough talk of curses, tell me child did the change give you a rating in any Magic skills?"

"Yes, I've got two points in Sorcery, and I took out both goblins with a fireball."

The Druid jumped from his spot on the bench, his eyes glowing. "Sorcery! I thought I felt something rank."

"But."

The trees shook, and clouds sprang up out of nowhere to fill the sky above the clearing. "Enough, you will foul my grove no longer. Be gone and do not return. I will not have sorcerers in my grove!"

Jane retreated towards the trees. In her hand the broom shifted into a staff, its energy prickling at her hand as she moved. "I didn't do anything wrong."

The Druid stalked after her. There was a staff in his hands though Jane hadn't seen him pick it up. It was a long piece of driftwood as white as his eyes. "If I hear you spreading tall tales about Ogre's and scaring the good folk of this town, you and I will have a problem young miss. Now go."

Jane fled, clutching the broom in her arms, running until she was through the trees. When she came to a stop, the trees had shifted into a wall of living wood. It parted for an instant and her father stepped out too. He looked back at the grove and poked the interlocked tree branches with his finger. Then he looked down at Jane, his shoulders sagging. "Well that could have gone better."