[Pisces]

With one last heave, Foxglove brought down her axe on the last block of firewood. She was rather proud that she managed to make it a somewhat clean chop, the halves relatively equal. It meant that she not only had some nice firewood but that she was adjusting nicely to this new life she'd chosen for herself.

It hadn't been easy when she had come to her decision to leave Spindle, the school for Magick. But although she could use magick, she hadn't been able to handle it in the ways they had wanted, and therefore had been deemed a failure. It had hurt to be labeled a failure, and so while running away was hard, she knew it would easier on herself in the long run.

The small unnamed village she had finally decided to settle down was far away from the lands she had grown up in, her home near a swamp. The townsfolk had been pleasant enough in welcoming her, but she was still new, still smelt of outside lands, and therefore while the townsfolk were polite, it was a cool, wary distant politeness. Foxglove didn't mind it much. Her neighbours were friendly enough, giving her help in adjusting to life and tips in how to handle the old house she'd bought with the last of her money. Now she was working hard to grow her food and live a relatively nice life. Her small skills with medicinal herbs had found a use in making salves for the village inhabitants and brought enough money in for her to be able to save little by little. It was still a rough process, though, as she was finding out with each bruise, scrape, and cut.

With enough firewood to last another couple days or so, Foxglove decided she would reward her hard work with a walk in the nearby forest. She had noticed the townsfolk didn't go near it, and instead took their strolls in an open meadow and wondered why. She was sure there would be plenty of nice herbs in the forest, perhaps even some good mushrooms for a nice stew. Now that she had the time and stamina (for adjusting had been rough on her body as well. Her muscles still sore) she wanted to explore.