The clearing stayed out of sight, tucked away where sunlight barely reached - just thin beams cutting through thick leaves above. Moonflower, a gray horse whose fur blended into the dark, stopped at the edge, her breathing slowing. Inside, the scent rose up: wet moss mixed with a sharper tang - maybe star anise, maybe the bite of storm-charged air. “Are you sure about this, Raylee?” Moonflower whispered. Raylee - her coat a mix of silver, smokey black, pearl, champagne, overo roan - glistened faintly despite the dim light, then she sharply agreed. “Like I mentioned earlier; rumor’s been spreading that the Hidden Gatherer lands right here - it's where lost junk from everywhere gets sifted through.” They shoved past the last tangle of vines, stumbled into a tiny open space where a slick black pool took up most of the ground. In front stood the Gatherer. A shape stood there - clearly horse-like - yet hidden under a thick, dusty-brown cloth draped like a wanderer’s wrap, hood drawn so low that darkness sat where features ought to show. It crouched beside an oversized sack of twisted reeds, fiddling with straps while muttering soft words under its breath. Moonflower leaned into the gnarled base of a weathered oak, hoping to fade away without thinking. It felt oddly surreal - way too close for comfort. “Look,” Raylee whispered, gaze locked on the hooded figure’s movements. The Gatherer stretched a gloved hoof out to the pack - then paused, drawing it away. Rather than touching the gear, they gave the peak of their hood a light tap, right where the cloth creased. In one smooth but deliberate motion, like handling fragile glass, they pulled free a small clump of dry forget-me-nots, still glowing an intense sky-blue, slipping them into a special pocket built just for that on the bag. Moonflower scowled - what even was that thing? Came outta nowhere. Stuck right on top of 'em. The Gatherer moved a bit, limbs extending, then hand dropped low. Yet fingers skipped the moss, landing instead on the slick, worn wood of their leg support. Out from the swirls in the timber came a thick, corroded iron key - way bigger than any slot in that brace could’ve held. That hunk of metal slammed down into the bag with an unexpected bang. Raylee moved ahead bit by bit, her wariness drowned out by raw wonder. Moonflower stretched a hoof toward her without thinking - yet missed by just an instant. The Gatherer stared at the inner edge of the cloak, close to the bottom. Slowly, they tugged the heavy material open - out came a little mechanical bird made of brass. The craftsmanship was fine, yet it worked just right; lifting it up, the person let the tiny creature swivel its head slightly before putting it back in place. “They are pulling items from places where items cannot be,” Raylee whispered, her voice tight with wonder. Moonflower just stood there, frozen. Not a trick at all - this broke every rule of how stuff should work. Instead of grabbing from around them, the person pulled objects straight out of their clothes’ design. The Gatherer had probably just ended their stock review. With a quick shift, they fixed the buckle on that heavy backpack - then did something totally weird. Their hand slipped under the left glove’s edge, creeping further upward beyond where skin meets fabric, way inside the sleeve. From there? Out came an oval-shaped piece of gleaming amber glass, smooth as water. No way it fit - the material hugged tight, and the object was clearly too wide. Moonflower finally found her voice, a dry rasp. “Pardon us. We didn’t mean to intrude on your… sorting.” The shadowy shape went still, the stone slipping once more beneath the fabric of the sleeve. Then, without hurry, they shifted their hidden stare straight at the two female horses. No sudden motion - just quiet calm, like this moment had always been coming, maybe even waiting years to arrive. Moonflower sensed the heavy hood, dark inside. A quiet tone, soft as a stream sliding over rocks, floated into the air. "This valley opens to anyone who stumbles upon it. You’ve seen how things were set up." “Preparation for what?” Raylee asked, taking another step closer despite Moonflower's nervous whicker. “Are you a collector? Where do you keep all these… impossibilities?” The Gatherer gently stroked the woven pack. “I keep them in the space between where you last looked and where you now remember. The world is careless with small things. I am simply the one who maintains the inventory of the forgotten.” They tilted their cowl slightly toward Moonflower. “I heard you hesitate out there, Moonflower of the Grey. What does one do when they witness a secret mechanism?” Moonflower sucked in air, then moved forward into the open patch - her dread now swapped for curiosity about the strange shape standing there. She’d seen something she wasn’t meant to see. "We ain't about running," Moonflower said, pressing her hooves into the soft green moss. "Instead, we check what needs doing." The shadowy person let out a noise - maybe a soft laugh. Reaching sideways into thin air, they pulled something from nowhere: an old copper penny, smoothed down by years, not taken from their coat but just... there. “Ah,” the Gatherer murmured, placing the coin carefully in the moss. “Then you may wait. It is a long journey to collect the second half of a broken promise.”