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Isibel looks at his hand out of the corner of her eye, having no idea what he is planning to do with it, and she draws the shape of the berry and the leaves and writes down the color so she'll be able to tell the other elves. (She will have to come up with some way to get them to believe her, but perhaps she can just advocate general caution with the plants.)

She draws a box around the blank space under the berry drawing in case he wants to show her more poisonous-to-elves plants.
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He sighs, and brushes bits of berry off his hand on his leg, and rubs his face with both hands.

Then he takes a few steps away and snatches up a small brown mouselike creature from the forest floor. It squeaks in alarm and wriggles frantically, but he holds it gently and pets it until it stops struggling. He looks at Isibel to see if she is paying attention.
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She is definitely paying attention.

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Good!

He holds the tiny rodent close to his chest, closes his eyes, and tilts his head as though listening to it. For a few seconds, he stands very still, just like that. Then he opens his eyes, and touches a berry on the bush, and touches the mousealike (with the pads of his fingers, not with his claws), and shakes his head. Touches his forehead, touches the mouse, touches the berry: this is knowledge he has, that the berry is not edible to the mouse. Touches the mouse, touches his forehead, does the closed-eyes-listening-pose: this is how he acquired that knowledge.
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Isibel nods slowly.

She holds out one of her hands towards him tentatively.
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He crouches and sets the rodent down on the ground, where it immediately scampers away.

Then he takes her hand in both of his. His skin is very warm. He closes his eyes and... does whatever it is he does; whatever he's getting out of it, it does not produce corresponding sensations in Isibel.
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Isibel - waits.

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When he opens his eyes a few minutes later, he is smiling very faintly.

He reaches for the pencil and paper.
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She hands it over.

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He starts drawing a catalogue of plants and animals.

The enormous brightly coloured lizards are apparently venomous (he draws a person being bitten by one and dying gruesomely), but good to eat as long as you avoid the venom glands. The large beavers and turtles likewise check out; in fact, later sketches seem to indicate that any animal larger than she is will make a good meal.

Most berries are in the poisonous category, but there are a few he declares safe. Most kinds of large fruit are safe, but two are poisonous. He identifies several kinds of nuts as safe.

All frogs, apparently, are poisonous. So are a lot of small snakes and lizards. The mousealikes are safe, though.

He hums and talks to himself while he draws.
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Isibel attempts to think of ways to present this notebook to her expedition leader. Maybe she should claim she followed a mousealike watching it eat. Thirty times.

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She will have a little more trouble with that in a minute: lacking a common language in which to describe colour, he strokes the paper gently with his talons until his drawings colour themselves.

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Isibel sighs. That's the sort of thing small magic could do if she chose to take the trouble, she supposes. She does still have the issue where this is not her drawing style - not any elf's drawing style - but maybe she will just copy everything into a new notebook.

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He offers her the notebook with a wry grin.

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She reads through it, nodding her comprehension, and then looks back the way she came, frowning. She mimes showing the notebook to an imaginary elf and then splutters (may as well talk aloud, for effect) - "No, I only have a feeling about these things, no, I didn't find a Wildmage on the island, please just don't eat the berries." She throws up her hands again and sighs.

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He laughs, and nods, and shrugs.

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She then draws a party of elves finding the unicorn statues and looks quizzically at him.

They're going to find out that someone was here anyway.
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He smiles wryly and spreads his hands.

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Isibel thinks.

Then she mimes showing the whole notebook to an imaginary other elf. Start to finish. And she then tucks the notebook under her arm to clasp her hands in a pleading motion, also directed at the imaginary elf.

She's not sure if they'd believe her, but she thinks they'd probably at least ask a Wildmage to check her for Taint before killing her, and it might work.
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He rubs his face and frowns in thought.
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Isibel waits. She'll think of something else if he doesn't want her to try this.

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After some contemplation, he throws up his hands and nods. He doesn't like the idea, but he can't think of a better one.

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She takes two steps, then looks over her shoulder: should she go now, or is there more to say?

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He shrugs.

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She thinks of something herself. She draws the island, and a vague sketch of half her path to the camp on the beach (not that they'd be hard to find, but she doesn't want or need to direct him right to them) and then a path back. Then she looks at him. Where will he be if they come looking? (So she can direct, or misdirect.)

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