5 Chapter Five

I woke up to someone knocking on my door. I quickly got up and wiped the sleep from my eyes. If someone was knocking, it could only be for one reason.

I opened my door to see a slight, frail older woman standing on the porch. "Good morning, Mrs. Avery. Are you here to get more of that decoction I made for you?" Anytime someone from the village visited and didn't harass me, it meant they were in need of my services as an apothecary. 

Honestly, it was hypocritical. The people of the village despised me and blamed me for everything wrong in the town, yet they demanded that I heal them. It was funny how humankind worked. 

"Yes, dear. It worked wonders. Is it the same charge as last time?" Mrs. Avery was one of my best customers, and not just in that she purchased the most. She was also the nicest one. She didn't go out of her way to interact with me, but at least she was polite. It was more than I could say for anyone else who came to my doorstep. 

"Yes, ma'am, two silvers will be enough. Please come pick it up tomorrow. I should have it ready by then." I could have had it ready in a few hours, but I knew that people didn't like spending more time than necessary this far out of town.

"Thank you, dear. I will be by tomorrow morning." With that, she passed me the silver coins, keenly avoiding brushing my fingers with her own, and walked away.

Other than when the townsfolk vandalized my home and harassed me or when I went shopping, this was the extent of my interaction with anyone. An ache shot through my chest as the thought toyed with the cracks that spread through my heart with each passing day. I quickly closed the door and headed back inside. 

I placed the two silvers in my small coin purse and got dressed. Honestly, I didn't feel bad, not compared to my worst days, at least. If anything, I was empty, hollow. The pain that usually stabbed through my core wasn't present. I didn't feel the weight of what was missing as severely as usual. It was almost pleasant. Maybe that flower really was worthwhile. Anything had to be better than living as I had until now. 

After getting dressed, I slipped into my now dry, warm cloak and tied my coin purse at my waist. It was time to get some shopping done. If I put it off much longer, my pantry would run empty.

Walking outside, I surveyed the damage done yesterday. The vulgar words were still painted on the sides of my home, but a little elbow grease should be able to remove them. As far as the window... I groaned. A new pane was going to be expensive. I turned from the glorified hut and walked down the path, away from the forest and toward Ferencia Village, the place I've lived since I was born. 

The walk to town wasn't short, but it was not as long as going into the woods. It did give my mind time to wander to the past, though—not the recent past, either. Unexpectedly, my mind was full of the bittersweet memories of my mother and my childhood. 

My mother was single when she had me. She never told me, or anyone that I knew of, who my father was. Instead, she did everything that she could to support us and gave me so much love. Unfortunately, she passed away when I was ten years old. She'd always been frail, but a sickness took hold of her, and she started withering away. Honestly, her passing was for the best. By the end, she was in so much pain. That didn't stop her from being happy, though, content even to her dying breath. By the Fates, I missed her so much. 

I reached the town without any significant events and headed towards the square. The heart of it had always been the market. On any given day, stalls and tents littered the square. It was the only place where one could do all of their shopping without having to wander all over the village. 

I stopped at one stall after another and made my purchases quickly. The townsfolk didn't mind taking my money, but they didn't like it when I lingered or tried to make conversation. That was alright, though. I'd rather not interact with people who were filled with so much vitriol anyway. 

By the time my arms were laden with canvas shopping bags, the sun had started to dip below the horizon. The bright pink color it turned the clouds distracted me for a moment. The world could be beautiful when it was least expected. It was a shame people didn't stop to enjoy it more.

"Hey!" Someone shouted at me.

Sighing, I turned to the person. Here we go. 

It was one of the children who threw the rock through my window the other day. He had his hands balled into fists and a look on his face of pure rage. Wasn't he too young to experience such raw emotions? 

"You need to leave! We don't want you here, you witch!" He hollered. 

Typically, his words would have sliced into my heart, especially from one so young. Now, though, I didn't feel a thing about it. Was I finally getting used to this treatment? I didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing. 

"I was just leaving, don't mind me." I turned and started heading out of town. 

Feeling something thump against my shoulder, I paused. That actually hurt. I glanced down. That little shit threw a rock at me. Really? Deciding it wasn't worth the hassle, I kept walking forward. If he wanted to throw things, then let him. Children were just the product of their parents, after all. He probably had his own set of issues going on at home. What good would it have done to try and fight back anyway? A fight with a child had no winner. 

I finally reached my home. Luckily, after throwing that stone, the boy didn't continue his assault. So, there were no more incidents on my journey back to my cabin. Once I sat everything down, I decided to go ahead and get to work on Mrs. Avery's potion. It was a welcome distraction. After I rendered the herbs, I bottled them up for her and began working on preparing a mixture for myself.

I pulled the passionflowers from where they hung drying and began boiling them down. If a tea was effective, how well would a more concentrated decoction be? I was looking forward to the results. After simmering them for a while, I strained the mixture into a glass bottle and poured out a small dose to try now. 

I quickly took the dose and winced. It was so bitter! Ugh! It had better help for how awful it tasted. Thankfully, it seemed to. I sat by the hearth, and between the warmth seeping off of the glowing logs and the potion, it didn't take long for a sense of calm to wash over me. I hadn't felt this at ease in what seemed like an age. 

If I were feeling this good now, maybe venturing into the village more wouldn't be so bad. They may have hated me, but the words people spewed might not cut as profoundly now. It was almost time for the winter festival. I hadn't been since I was a child. It would be nice to see all of the performers, maybe even eat some delicious street food. Perhaps if this continued to work, going wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility.

An abrupt knock on my door jolted me from my thoughts. What the hell was someone doing here so late? I stood and went to the door. Just as I was about to open it, I hesitated. It was late. What if they had bad intentions...? "Who is it," I called through the door. 

"Please help! It's my son!" The voice calling to me was heavy with emotion—panic, fear, dread even. 

Making a decision, I pulled open the door. The sight that awaited me was haunting. A father and mother, holding their child in their arms, limp. I looked closer and noticed that it was the child who threw the stone at me earlier. He had blood staining the shoulder of his coat. I could feel bile welling up in the back of my throat. It was revolting and terrifying to think about what could have done that to a child. "What happened to him?" 

The mother answered though I could barely understand her through the sobs. "He.. He got attacked! By some creature! W-we didn't see what did it." Her breath hitched, and another moan escaped her lips before she could continue. "Please help our b-baby! He's our only child." 

I stepped aside from the door. I couldn't ignore the mother's plea, nor would I ever, despite how I had been treated. Someone was in need, and that was all that mattered in times like these. I motioned for the father to lay him on my bed. 

Approaching my work table, I pulled out the supplies I needed: gauze, disinfectant, shears, a needle, and a thread. It was going to be a long night.