Jack frowned at how people were reacting to the situation with having a pixie dropped in their lap. You'd think that have a bona-fide nature sprite, coming back 'round to the proper side of life in times of crisis like this would make people more excited, but apparently not. He took the plant sample from Lucy, and corked the vile thing up in one of his jars. He had plans to experiment-- viciously-- on the thing, to see if he could find a way to magically kill or reduce the things; Their existence only made him furious.
He gave up trying to find information in that heap of pressed paper pulp, and slipped it back into his pack, then carefully picked the child-sized bundle up, and carried her on his hip like a toddler, while he headed back to his shanty. He asked Mama to snack on the remaining mushrooms (which she was happy to oblige) and to watch the pixie and keep her company (which was a concept the old bear did not entirely comprehend..) while he changed into his furs, and started packing for another trip. Before long, he had his hair braided and tied up, had stowed samples of food producing fungal cap in another clean jar to drop spores, and packed up the hatchet and other useful tools neatly in tied up, and easily managed parcels.
The pixie was still sleeping soundly; Perhaps the surgery had taken more out of her than it had others who had gone under Lucy's "knife", he couldn't say. Carefully and gently, he took his town clothes, and tied sleeves and pantlegs, such that the set functioned like a cross between swaddling cloth and a hammock, slung it over the opposite shoulder to his knapsack, then carefully laid the diminutive form inside it, to hang freely at the side of his waist, and near his chest.
If they were going to set out earlier than he had planned, he needed to grab some last minute essentials, as a bullwark against calamity-- Ammo supplies.
He set off on a quick sortie of the local farms, to raid the local poultry sheds for molted goose and chicken wing feathers...