Pip's Adventure

Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. They illuminated the sky with their kiss, sending sparks of light stretching across the purple expanse for miles.

People travelled far and wild to the strawberry fields below to watch the spectacle. With lanterns and backpacks, mages and non-rune folk gathered to share food, gossip and exchange goods. The children of the Elders, those old enough to have children themselves, ran workshops and stalls. From second-hand books to healing potions, to a beer tent and a stall for those who were interested in making football bets for the next derby between the two nearest villages.

The purple clouds and the beauty they brought with them lasted until sunrise, when people would retire back to their homes or open up their shops and start their daily routine. People were tired, it was no surprise to not be, but it was worth it. The ambience, the community, the swell of your heart whilst you were in the midst of such a sight, was all worth it.

And Pip was nervous. They had never experienced the clouds in person – had only ever heard of them. Originally from Scotland, Pip had witnessed lochs, castles and had spent endless winters cold and wet. Now, in the heart of the countryside half way across the world, they began to feel like life was worth living.

They had decided it was time, for they were twenty five now and had no idea what they were supposed to be doing with their life. So, they had said goodbye to their mother and father, genius magic folk who ran a school for late blooming magics and had packed a bag. Only one. It contained a notebook and pen, four changes of clothing (all dishevelled and unfolded, naturally), a day’s worth of food brought from a local vendor at the port, and a map that directed them straight to the strawberry fields.

Pip had to hail two separate cabs to complete the journey. Even with magic in their veins, they never had been very good at broadcasting themselves at will to a different location, let alone a new place they’d never seen. By their luck, Pip would try to broadcast to the strawberry fields and end up in the heart of India, miles away from where they wanted to be. By the time they had arrived at their destination, the sun had begun to set.

“Enjoy it.” The cab driver had said as they pulled up on the side of the road, watching the streams of people wandering the strawberry fields, setting up for the night. “It may happen every night but it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. I’ll never get sick of it.”

Pip said their thanks and left a tip, after all the cab driver had been polite enough to ask questions about their trip, but hadn’t asked too much. Sometimes Pip preferred the quiet.

“You magic? There’s always jobs for people like you here if you wanted to stay.” The cab driver smiled, and Pip smiled back, nodding in acknowledgment. They shouldered their pack, shut the door, and watched in quiet awe as the cab drove away.

Finally, they were here. They were where they thought they were meant to be. And they felt sick.

Not sick in the way that threatened their stomach to end up on the pavement, but the type of sickness that made the back of their neck slick with sweat and caused their fists to clench and unclench for no apparent reason at all.

It was all new to Pip, and the thought of change had once been motivational – had been the reason they packed up their bags and left. Yet now, oh now, it all seemed very real.

The sound of an old, sputtering truck pulled at Pip’s attention. The truck must’ve been bright yellow once, but now it was dirtied and beige. The driver behind the wheel was just as weathered, all wrinkled skin and smile lines.

“Well hon, are you gonna go in the field or just stand there?” Someone said, climbing out of the truck. The driver was an elderly lady, with thin white hair and eyes that still sparkled in a marvellous blue. She wore a pink summer dress with embroidered flowers and carried a jar of honey on her hip.

Everything seemed normal about her, as if she were just another elderly lady on her travels, except from the bees. They nestled in her hair, crawled up her exposed arms. They circled her body lazily; the perpetual noise of buzzing surrounded her. She whispered to them, and they responded.

A mage.

Pip shuffled their feet and shrugged their shoulders. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“First time?” The woman flicked one of her fingers and an entire crate lifted itself out from the back of the truck, the wooden box full to the brim with jars of honey in all shapes and sizes.

“Yes ma’am.” Pip felt as though they needed to help the mage, perhaps take the crate of honey from her, but they knew it would be a wasted act. The woman was far more capable, no matter how old she was. She was more powerful than Pip was too, no doubt. “The clouds are gorgeous. They’ll be the best thing you’ll ever see.”

Pip smiled at that. The nostalgia in the woman’s voice was evident. She took a few steps forward and Pip steeled themselves. Some of the bees that floated around her began to investigate – one landed in Pip’s hair and started buzzing around their ear.

The mage smiled sympathetically, “Oh, the bees won’t bite. They don’t have teeth.” She paused then, “Well, not like ours anyway.”

“Right.” Pip nodded, swallowing hard.

“Knock it off, girls.” The elderly woman waved her hand again and the bees retreated, allowing Pip to breathe again. They let out a sigh of relief.

The mage pointed behind her, “Why don’t you grab a case full, and we’ll go together. The name’s Honey, by the way.”

There was something so sweet about her, and it wasn’t to do with the nectar in the jars. Despite the buzzing of the bees, this woman made Pip feel more relaxed. “Sure thing, Honey. I’m Pip.”

Pip flicked their wrist, concentrating hard, and watched yet another crate of honey rose up from the truck. It had been a long while since they had practiced magic, but the look on Honey’s face was enough to set them at ease.

“Onwards then.” She smiled at Pip, “Let the bees lead the way.”

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