Chapter Text
It was only a few pepper bulbs. That was all Vezrik needed from this patch of forgotten earth. Rays of midday sun fell upon his dark tunic, and the warmth sank into his back as he worked. As his knees pressed deeper into the loam, its damp chill crept into the fabric of his trousers, vying with the sun for his attention.
Vezrik set his shoulders. He'd quickly thrown his spade aside in favor of probing the earth with nimble fingers, feeling beneath likely-looking shoots for the swell of a bulb. They didn't grow deeply enough to need anything more. They were just so damn sparse, with such unassuming vegetation. The shoots bore an irritating resemblance to common blades of grass, distinguishable only by a certain sheen—easy to miss in the dappled forest light. The tip of his tongue poked out from between his lips, probing his small tusks, and his bespectacled eyes remained firmly downward.
"Aha!" His voice scraped out as his fingers seized upon a round, papery root. "I knew they'd be near the redcup moss."
He'd avail himself of his water skin soon enough. If there was one pepper bulb, there had to be more. He dug haphazardly, nails raking at shoots.
He had just unearthed a third bulb when his vision began to blur. He blinked and gazed at his prize, pushing up his spectacles with a dirt-strewn finger. The image continued to drift in and out of focus, and the shifts in his body temperature intensified beyond what sun or damp should have been capable of. He thrust his hands back into the soil, bracing against a wave of dizziness.
"No. No, no, no, no."
It couldn't be starting. Not here. Not now. He'd been doing so much better.
That morning, when he set out, he had almost felt normal. He had taken all of the healer's advice, resting up and eating well and avoiding any casting. The last was the easiest to manage. He'd never been good at magic, anyway.
So why, then, was he having an episode now? And why was it so much worse?
His nails raked over grass and moss and dirt. He clenched it by the fistful, desperately trying to center himself. The moldering scent of the forest bloomed all around him.
It would pass. If he waited and breathed and stayed still, he could head home with his meager spoils. It would pass, he'd be fine, and…
The world wavered. Greenery flashed by Vezrik's eyes as he fell, face-first, onto the upturned earth.