Gerrit sat on the frozen ground of his workshop in Winter's Hollow. Their little territory in the Hedge was wintery most of the time and the Goblin Fruit plot being underground didn't particularly add to the temperature, but Gerrit didn't mind. It's not that he didn't feel the cold, it's just that whether his skin, muscles and nerves burned because of biting chilling or something didn't really make a difference.


He had spent the last few weeks reading - no, studying - the book on Goblin Fruits they've salvaged from Queen Ann's Hollow. Part of the reason for that was that he hadn't come across any other literature on the topic, but it also has become some sort of passion for the Ogre. Working on the little something (it was nowhere big enough to called a garden) gave him something to do, something to keep his mind and his hands busy.
What's even more interesting: The Stonebones was far from creative, making up things or going off established recipes or proven methods wasn't really in his wheelhouse. But reading about the various fruits, the experiments and findings of that author sparked something in him. Wasn't it trial and error that made him grow the few pieces of Goblin Fruit for the last few months?


So yes, he was going to put to use some things he thought he understood. For instance: his instincts about fertilizing the seeds with his blood yielded pretty good results, but going from the logic presented in the book he could try focusing on strong emotions and also channel some Glamour while spilling his blood.
He also learned that certain seeds grew better and more readily depending on the Season. That was interesting, because time seemed to move different in the Hedge than in the mortal world - was it the belief or expectation of Courtiers around the globe that lent it's influence to the fauna in the Thorns. Winter, for instance, seemed to prefer legumes like peas or beans.


The creative spark had been struck, but it took more than a spark to get this Stonebones to thread new paths. For now, he would stick to the things he knew would provide a healing benefit in need.
He put some seeds he brought in a few days ago into the ground, took an ice-cold blade and cut across the thumb of his left hand. He also dug out some things he had buried beneath a thick layer of snow within: bitter disappointment and smoky slick envy. Ram - Tobias - had promised him to drop by now and then. Instead he just used the Freehold to fight his Fetch and then disappeared into a happy ending.


Hot drops of blood made the frozen ground hiss and steam, but around the blackened, almost frostbitten wound a few crystals of ice had already begun to form.
This season's harvest would be plentiful.