Once upon a time, there was a young man who occasionally became a crow. There was no good reason for this, as far as anyone knew; he certainly hadn't been cursed, and he'd had no royal christening at which to receive magical gifts. No-it just was. As some things were.

In years past, a traveler had come to the young man's door. She had smelled of a rich, bitter drink that he did not recognize; and she carried another, which he had also never before encountered. "Keep it," she had told him, when he had smelled the leaves and remarked that it was interesting. "I'm a Coffee Girl, anyway. French Press is the-well, anyway. French Press is mine. You're welcome to this, though." And, in the morning, she had gone on her way, leaving behind the leaves and instructions on how to brew a drink from them.

He had followed her instructions, curious to try it. He discovered quickly that he almost always preferred to leave out any sweetener, milk, cream, or lemon; the pure, uncorrupted taste was more to his liking. He drank it sparingly, once he discovered the best way. He even gave it a name: the Earl of Grey Teas (for so the drink was classified: tea, and Earl was the highest rank in his land. This tea, he knew without having tasted any others, was truly of the highest quality.)

However, even sparingly brewed, normal tea leaves cannot last forever. His supply of precious Earl of Grey Teas ran out, save for two leaves, which he carefully wrapped and put away. One he kept to show to anyone else who might pass his way with materials to trade, sell, or gift to him. The second he kept lest the first one crumble, and for his own memories besides.

It took a year before a traveler came his way bearing tea leaves. He gave his name as Hardric, and was quite happy to explain the origin of the tea leaves which he unwrapped for Desdendelle-for so the young man was named-to see. He had found them in a field far away, and named them in his native tongue; Desdendelle, when he bought half the supply for a steep price, tried the brew and named it Lady of Grey Teas, in honor of his feeling that it was a fair counterpart to the Earl tea and very fine indeed.

But all things pass, and all too soon the last cup of the Lady of Grey Teas was drunk to the dregs. Again, Desdendelle set aside two leaves; and he waited long months for travelers to pass his way, but none came. At last he determined to set out on his own, for if the teas would not come to him, then surely he must come to the teas...

And so he set out, after much deliberation over how to do so. He took with him his carefully wrapped leaves, and some provisions, and a change of clothes. A blanket he felt he did not need; for surely, he could simply sleep the night away in the form of a crow, and thus save on weight.

He had walked for two days, following the direction from which Hardric and the self-proclaimed Coffee Girl (who had given her name as Neshomeh) had come to him from, when he espied another traveler. Her hair was brown and shoulder-length; she wore clothing as green as the tops of the trees and carried a pack from which hung a small tin pot, cup, and spoon.

He greeted her, giving his name; she returned the greeting and gave her name as Zingenmir, whereupon he asked tentatively after the utensils she carried. She wiped the sweat from her brow, wishing out loud for some form of bear, before answering.

"Oh, yeah, those," she said. "I drink a lot of tea, so...it makes sense to have them on hand. I'd say they're my most prized possessions right now, but one doesn't really hang one's prized possessions on the outside of a pack, right? But they're definitely very useful."

Desdendelle's eyes went wide. Could it be that his search was over scarcely two days away from his home? "You drink tea?" he asked, fairly trembling with excitement. "I do as well! I have left my home to search for more of it, since no one had passed my way for months. Where did you find it?"

The woman looked taken aback, but she smiled as she waved a hand at the forest around them. "I collect it. Some can only be grown specially, which requires settling down for a while or bartering for it, but much of it can simply be collected. Some barks work, and flowers and fruits...I once mixed rosehips with dried wild strawberries with good results, and another time I passed through a land where spearmint grew everywhere-"

Desdendelle stared at her. "But that's not tea," he said. "Tea is made from leaves-like these." And he unwrapped a leaf of the Lady of Grey Teas to show her.

The woman leaned in to smell its fragrance and then ‘ah'ed softly in understanding. "You're looking for a different type of tea," she said. "The type that will keep you awake and is frequently bitter. I deal in herbal teas."

Desdendelle tried not to look too disappointed. "So you don't have any tea, then?"

"I-" The woman sighed. "No, I don't have the type of tea you're looking for. I do know where it grows, though," she added as his face fell. "I can give you directions-or take you there myself. At my present course, I'm sure to pass several of the places."

"Would you really take me there?" he asked.

The woman shrugged. "I travel more easily with a companion anyway. Let's go."

*

They walked for nearly two months, encountering increasingly more travelers as they went. Some, like Matt Cipher, were traveling only a short distance (in Cipher's case, delivering a box of pastries called pÄ...czki to a nearby group of friends and relatives); others, like Silenthunder, were going farther. One Larfen J. Stocke joined them for a day, amusing them with his wit for hours before they finally parted ways; a man named Aegis joined them for a little longer, until his propensity for making bad puns began to grate on them. He took the separation easily enough, though, as it coincided with him joining a traveler named Maslab; when Desdendelle and Zingenmir last saw them, they were trading bad puns with identical expressions of growing glee.

There were, of course, some odd moments, such as the first time Desdendelle turned into a crow for the night. Zingenmir had stared, open-mouthed, until he changed back and sheepishly explained his ability; in return, he found out that his traveling companion could understand and speak to bears (which was completely useless in much of the world, as bears were hardly commonplace in every land). They also had the occasional argument over tea, but, all in all, they found themselves falling easily into friendship.

Towards the end of the first month, they left the road to avoid a large group, all clamoring around a man who looked a lot like the tall kind of faerie from the storybooks and might have been (as discerned from the clamoring) named something along the lines of ‘Enesoron'. Desdendelle flew ahead briefly; upon returning, he pointed them in the least thorny direction, and they continued walking.

A minute later, a black-clad person flipped down from a tree and landed in front of them. When they stumbled backwards, two more caught the travelers, and pushed them firmly forwards again.

"I, uh," said Desdendelle. "I think I missed something."

Zingenmir nodded mutely, staring at the first ninja.

The first ninja unwrapped the black cloth that covered their face and grinned. "Hey! Aren't you the girl who talks to bears? Dawn-something?"

Zingenmir face-palmed as Desdendelle gave the ninja a strange look. "DawnFire, and it's Zingenmir now." She looked up, frowning at the ninja. "You look a little familiar...uh?"

The ninja helpfully pushed back their black hood.

"Oh," said Zingenmir. "You're Iximaz. Since when are you a ninja?"

Iximaz shrugged. "I decided I wanted to do more than just cuddle seals all day, even if they are adorable. Who's your friend?"

Desdendelle cleared his throat and gave his own name, adding, "I'm searching for tea leaves; Zingenmir has been guiding me. You two know each other?"

Iximaz nodded. "Yeah, we were at this school together for people who can talk to cold-weather animals. Weird place. Hey, do you want company? It's been ages since I went on a quest."

"That depends on who your friends are," Desdendelle said, after he and Zingenmir had exchanged shrugs. "I'd rather not travel with people whose names I don't know."

"Sure," said Iximaz, nodding at the other two ninjas. They unwound their own masks as the two travelers turned. "Scapegrace is the one on the left, and on the right is Alleb. They're pretty cool."

They all traded hellos, and then Scapegrace asked, "What are you doing off the main road, anyway?"

Zingenmir shrugged one shoulder. "Too many people."

"On that road?" Alleb said, frowning. "Truly?"

"They were clustered around some guy," said Desdendelle. "They seemed...busy. And very loud. We thought we'd seek out some quiet."

Scapegrace waggled her eyebrows up and down, but Iximaz only said, "Did you catch his name? Was it Huinesoron?"

The original travelers traded looks. "Something like that," Zingenmir said. "How'd you know?"

Iximaz grinned. "This happens every year around this time. I've even taken part before. It's pretty fun!"

"...what exactly is it?" Desdendelle asked. He wondered if he actually wanted to know, but Scapegrace answered before he could take the question back.

"Well, everyone likes him, and around this time of year a bunch of people get together to try and...woo him. Or just get in his pants, one or the other-"

Alleb coughed, her face going red; Scapegrace glanced at her and went, "Oh, sorry," before continuing.

"Anyway, it's pointless since he married someone named Kaitlyn. Probably half of them do it just for the tradition by now."

The group had seemed pretty enthusiastic, but Desdendelle didn't argue. "Well, they should be gone by now, if we want to rejoin the path...?"

No one disagreed, and so the party of five headed back to the main road.

*

The five of them traveled together for another month. All three ninjas had a tendency to do the occasional acrobatic feat, and Scapegrace and Iximaz made eyes at each other when they each thought the other wasn't looking (though Iximaz also spoke of other loves, two of whom Desdendelle and Zingenmir had met. Aegis was, for the moment, abroad-while they had met him, he had also left in a direction that took him far to the east-and Neshomeh, who had first introduced Desdendelle to the wondrous tea, turned out to have stolen yet another love by the name of French Press and run away with her. Scapegrace, meanwhile, occasionally mentioned someone who ate, prayed, and loved, which seemed to Zingenmir an odd sort of description to give of someone, but otherwise left her history out of conversations. Alleb mentioned no one, but blushed when questioned).

The end of the month found them in a field of tea leaves. Desdendelle stared at it in dazed amazement.

He had been without tea for so long. He had tried Zingenmir's blends, though they seemed to him lesser in quality. He had also tried some of the bitter drink whose scent had lingered on Neshomeh (Iximaz had offered him a little from her own stores), and pronounced it emphatically not to his tastes. Nothing had compared.

He knelt carefully at the edge of the field, ignoring the strange look Scapegrace was giving him, and breathed deep of the fragrance.

Tea. More tea than he could drink in two years. More tea than he had ever thought to see-and there were at least two more fields in the area.

This, at last, was bliss.

("Er," said Scapegrace quietly. "Exactly how long is he going to just sit there with that grin on his face?"

"Give him a moment," Iximaz replied, and then said wistfully, "He looks a little like I did when I was introduced to French Press...")

Zingenmir sighed, and knelt next to him. "So," she said. "What next? Do you...do you think you'll stay here?"

"I don't know," Desdendelle said. He still felt dazed, and brushing his fingertips carefully over the tea leaves in front of him didn't help. "I...I suppose I could try to build a house..."

Iximaz joined them. "Have you ever built a house before?"

"No," Desdendelle admitted. "Have any of you?"

Everyone shook their heads.

"I read a book on it once," Alleb said. "I think I remember most of it."

"So we could probably figure it out, then," Scapegrace put in. "I've watched people put up shacks before, too; we could do this. Probably."

"Or we could try to find a carpenter to consult," Zingenmir said. She got to her feet with a sigh. "Well, then. Let's find a good place for a house."

Iximaz got up by way of a handstand; after a minute more of breathing in the delicious tea smell, Desdendelle accepted the hand up that was being offered to him.

"Alright, then," he said. He had carefully picked one tea leaf, and he rubbed the stem between his fingers as he looked around at his friends. "Let's go looking."