Cubs are impossible at that age. So sure they know everything.
Soren was left to consider whether it might’ve been something he’d done, but upon thinking back to their interactions, he couldn’t pinpoint anywhere he might’ve offended or upset Miss Maeve. He’d striven to be on his best behavior, talking when spoken to, answering questions, and keeping his hands folded behind his back on their evening walks.
Perhaps it was something else, then. Something at home.
“Is there anything amiss with the Brádaighs?” he asked Balar the next time he saw his brother.
Balar stopped to think. “I haven’t heard anything, and Imogen was just visiting with Sorcha the other day. Nothing came up.”
Well, that was good, if unhelpful.
When Balar stopped again, this time to narrow his eyes at Soren and inquire, “Why do you ask?” Soren found an excuse to make himself scarce.
It all remained mysterious, and although Miss Maeve was often talkative, she didn’t mention anything bothering her, and so Soren was left adrift.
The best he could do was plan a nature walk for the students, in the hopes it’d cheer her up—whether that be by walking in the forest or having an afternoon of peace to herself.
He was a smidge surprised, but very pleased, when Maeve received his suggestion with a smile.
“That would be wonderful,” she effused. “The weather is perfect.”
And so it was that Soren planned and organized a nature walk for the students a few days later, after scouting the best routes and removing several large hazards.
He could admit to histurukthat they were both pleased to find that Miss Maeve intended to join them that morning on the walk. She’d worn a shorter skirt, revealing the high cut of her leather boots, as well as her floppy sunhat, the pink ribbons tied in a neat knot under her chin.
Once all the students were lined up from youngest to oldest, with Soren leading the way and Kiri and then Maeve bringing up the rear, off they went into the forest.
It was an easy enough walk, Soren keeping them mostly to the path that Balar had carved through the forest to link Imogen’s land with Danann. Along the way, he pointed out plants he’d talked to the students about in late autumn, when they had brushed through dried leaves to truffle hunt, discussed safe and toxic mushrooms, and picked the last berries of the season.
There were new things to learn about in spring; differentmushrooms, all the bright green leaves reaching for the sky, and the fragrant flowers blooming. The children gathered round as he showed them a pinecone, acorn, and chestnut, explaining that they were all varieties of seeds for the trees. They oohed and aahed when he used his knife to carefully prise open each of the nuts, showing which parts were considered the true seed and which were the fruit.
“But apples are fruits, not pinecones,” argued Liese.
“The fruit is the part of a seed used to entice an animal to eat it,” explained Soren. As they continued along, Soren did his best to describe why a seed wanted to be eaten in the most delicate terms.
Once the very thought of feces was introduced, the children broke into fits of giggles.
“You’re doing exactly what the tree wants by eating the seed and…moving it along,” said Soren, taking a bite out of the raw chestnut as the students squealed with laughter.
“So who’s smarter—us or the trees?” asked Kiri, smug little grin in place.
Maeve stepped forward to refocus the students. “Speaking of animal droppings, perhaps we should talk about scat now, Mister Soren.”
“Indeed. This way.”
Along their walk, they found plenty of scat to observe. Little deer pebbles, a bear pile, wolf logs, and even an owl pellet—although, he had to explain how that wasn’t scat. The children gasped and groaned as he opened the dry ball of fur and tiny bones.
A glance over their heads found Miss Maeve watching too, her hand over her mouth. Not to hide her disgust but instead her amusement.
Soren’s heart thumped oddly in his chest. What a strange feeling to have while holding an owl pellet.
The children followed along gamely, delighted when they could stop to eat an edible plant or talk more about animal droppings. They managed to contain their squeals of delight when they all stopped to crouch down quietly and observe a family of wild rabbits crawling through the underbrush.
“Mister Soren,” Grainne whispered, her little face concerned, “do owls eat rabbits?”
“Only the slow ones,” Kiri snickered.
Her eyes grew wide, and Soren did his best to reassure the little girl that an owl usually went for smaller prey and left the nice bunnies alone—while reaching around to smack the back of Kiri’s head with his tail.
