Lina passed the homes of various villagers on her way to the totem. Most of them were tending to their small gardens. Almost every home in Rolbart had one—a patch for planting small crops that would later be stored in the granary and shared by all.

  As she passed, the villagers greeted her with warm smiles. Lina saw it—the sincerity in those smiles that had already accepted her and Vierna as part of Rolbart, not as strangers. She waved back, smiling in return while hiding the guilt of spying on them.

  Only then did it strike her: if she was feeling this much discomfort, how must it be for Vierna, who was the one actually making and carrying out the plans?

  The thought lodged in her heart, but this was no time for wallowing.

  She arrived at the totem. Most of the homes nearby were huts belonging to the beastkin. It seemed that they didn’t care much for stationary houses built from wood and stone, preferring instead to live in huts woven from natural fibers. The sizes varied—some small enough for a family of three, others wide and tall enough to shelter several households. Most of the huts were made from wool, linen, flax, and hemp canvas, their surfaces coated with pine resin and beeswax for weatherproofing.

  She noticed a couple of beastkin tending to their small gardens. Despite having spent most of her childhood helping her mother care for their herb garden, she didn’t recognize the plants they were growing. Still, she needed to find Aila quickly and ask for work, so she approached the beastkin tending their plot.

  “Hello, excuse me — do you know where Aila’s tent is?”

  The beastkin looked up, and when he saw it was Lina, he smiled. “Oh, it’s the big tent over there,” he said, pointing toward the largest tent in the area.

  “Thank you,” Lina said as she walked away.

  From outside the tent, she caught the scent of medicinal herbs — sharp and earthy at once. The air was thick with the bitterness of dried mugwort and crushed sage, undercut by the faint sweetness of chamomile. There was the resinous tang of pine, the metallic sting of ground bark, and a trace of smoke from burning juniper — the kind used to cleanse wounds or spirits alike. It was the unmistakable smell of a healer’s place.

  Livia had claimed she could smell the herbs all the way from the totem, but it seemed an elf’s nose worked differently from a human’s—Lina only caught the scent now.

  Inside, the tent greeted her with rows of half-empty shelves and scattered jars. Each jar bore a symbol—small sigils inked or carved into clay. Some resembled curling stems, others looked like crescent moons split by a single line, or spirals drawn to mimic roots. They weren’t mere decorations; each mark told how the herb was meant to be used—burned, steeped, or bound. Lina recognized a few from her mother’s garden, the same script of care and remedy she had once helped label.

  Seeing how bare the healer’s stores had become made her realize how much the villagers needed the supplies Vierna had found yesterday. The thought of that night rose again in her chest, bitter as old smoke, but she forced it down. She had made her choice—and she would see it through.

  “Is anyone here?” Lina called.

  “Oh, yeah… coming!” a voice answered from the back of the tent.

  Not long after, a young female beastkin stepped out from behind a hanging curtain. Lina recognized her—she had seen this beastkin a few times before: once when the woman stitched her back while she was still half-delirious, and again during Fenric and Vierna’s interrogation. But this was the first time Lina truly looked at her.

  Her face was mostly human, soft and youthful, yet touched by sheep-like features. A faint layer of downy white fur traced the line of her jaw and neck, catching the light like frost. Her eyes were wide and amber, calm but alert, framed by short lashes that gave her a gentle, almost drowsy look. Two small curved horns peeked through her pale hair, and her ears—long and wool-lined—twitched slightly as she approached. The faint scent of herbs clung to her woolen sleeves, blending with the warmth of the tent.

  “Ohh it’s Aline.” The beastkin smiled, “do you come here for check ups?”

  “Ah, well as a matter of fact I want to help you with your job, need to earn my keep while also pay my debt to Korrn you see.”

  The beastkin shook her head. “Oh yeah… such a horrible man, isn’t he? But you said you’re a healer? Do you have any experience? I’m sorry—I’m really short-handed, but if you’re not experienced, I can’t use you. I won’t have time to teach anyone while working… I’m the last healer here, you know.”

  “I helped my mother. She was a healer back in my village.”

  “I see.” The beastkin smiled faintly, then turned toward the back of the tent. “Well then, I’m making medicine for a fever—could you pass me the blackroot?”

  “Blackroot?” Lina blinked. “Is your medicine also for stomach cramps? You need willow bark for fever.”

  “Ahhh, finally someone who speaks my language.” The beastkin turned back to her, grinning. “Sorry for testing you. Herr Loran’del keeps sending girls to help me—he claims they’ve been learning about herbs, but I know them all. None of them have ever touched a mortar in their life. They’re good people, just clueless.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Lina tilted her head. “Wait, aren’t beastkin supposed to be great agriculturalists? Shouldn’t all of you know a lot about plants?”

  “Of course not. It’s true that other races know us for our ability to grow mana plants, but not every beastkin is a good farmer. Those who are capable are busy with their own small gardens. We need a lot of root farmers, you see, especially with most of our hunters… gone.”

  “But surely you are not the only healer left in the village right?”

  “Nope, I’am the only one. Just like Fenric’s the only hunter here.”

  Lina noticed the slight shift in the beastkin’s tone — something between anger and longing, though she couldn’t be sure. It seemed that what the girls had said about Yvlaine was true: she targeted people who could be useful to her cause. Healers and hunters — those were valuable professions for any group.

  “Oh, right… silly me. I haven’t officially introduced myself. My name’s Aila — nice to meet you.”

  “Ah, you’re right. My name’s Aline. I’m sure you’ve already heard of me.”

  Aila smiled. “Okay, since you know a thing or two about medicine, help me prepare one for stomach pain and another for cough. Some villagers came by yesterday, but I haven’t had time to make them yet.”

  “Sure. Do you have any notes or something for those medicines? It’s been a while since I brewed either of them. Don’t get me wrong — I know the herbs, but I don’t quite remember the procedure.”

  “Ah… well, I do have something. It’s my own recipe.” Aila reached into her storage rune and pulled out a worn book. “Here you go. I’ve pretty much memorized it by now. I brew these every day, after all. Haha…”

  Aila handed the book to her. Its cover was dark and softened with use, the corners bent from years of handling. The faint scent of herbs clung to it — old paper mixed with dried leaves and resin.

  Lina opened it carefully. Page after page was filled with recipes for common medicines: tonics for cough, poultices for wounds, fever remedies, each neatly listing ingredients, ratios, and brewing steps in small, looping handwriting.

  She turned the pages slowly, scanning the familiar patterns and names. Somewhere in these notes, she hoped, there might be something that could counteract Hairon Root.

  They spent some time in the stillroom. At first, Aila stood beside Lina, watching as she followed the first recipe from the book on her own. Lina worked carefully, double-checking each line before measuring the herbs, grinding and mixing them exactly as the instructions described. The faint scent of crushed willow bark and mint filled the air, blending with the warm sweetness of boiled honey.

  After a while, the potion was done. Lina poured it into a small clay jar and turned to Aila.

  “Well? What do you think?” Lina asked.

  Aila leaned closer, inhaling the steam that rose from the mixture. “It’s good,” she said, nodding approvingly. “Better than I expected from someone who hasn’t brewed in a while. Just remember, next time, add the mint a little earlier; that’ll keep the bitterness down.”

  Lina did just that. When the second bottle was ready, Aila nodded in approval and went to her own station to prepare another remedy. As she worked, Lina quietly flipped through the pages of the book, trying to find any mention of Hairon Root.

  “Something the matter, Aline?” Aila asked without looking up. It seemed she had heard the rustling of paper from her spot.

  “Oh, uhhh, nothing. I was just looking at another potion.”

  “Haha… I appreciate the curiosity, but we’re in a bit of a hurry. Once this batch is done, I want to head to the communal kitchen to eat. You can check the notes later — I’ll lend the book to you so you can memorize it properly.”

  “Okay, Aila… sorry.”

  Aila nodded, and the two of them continued brewing potion after potion.

  While it pained Lina that she couldn’t look into Hairon Root now, she couldn’t help but enjoy the process of making medicine. She had helped her mother often back in the day, and doing it again reminded her of those quiet hours — of warmth and purpose.

  If the war ever ended and life returned to normal, perhaps she could become a healer — just like her mother once was.

  And maybe, just maybe, Vierna would still be there beside her when it was all over. Could they really live as a simple healer and winemaker, the way Vierna had dreamed?

  She didn’t know. But imagining it brought warmth to her heart.

  After a while, they finished making the medicine.

  “Phew, glad that’s done. I want to do my rounds after I eat — you coming too?”

  “Of course, Aila. I want to be a permanent healer here, hehe. I can’t just freeload on the villagers’ goodwill forever. And I still have that debt to Korrn, you know.”

  “That’s a good mindset. Anyway, how are you planning to pay that debt? People in Rolbart rarely use shingles for payment — we usually just trade necessities like food, cloth, or other goods.”

  “You guys don’t use money?”

  “Well, we do, but in a small village like this, the coins just go in circles. For example, if I heal a lumberjack’s kid, he pays me with money — then I go to him and pay him the same money for firewood. So we just cut to the chase and trade goods instead. It’s different when we go to town, but that’s rare these days.”

  Lina tilted her head. “Why is that?”

  “Since the beastkin ran out of arachsindite, we don’t have anything left to trade with the town. What we produce here is only enough for ourselves and the taxes. In a way, we’re economically trapped.”

  “Herr Loran’del’s trying his best,” Aila continued, her eyes avoiding Lina’s. “But with people constantly going to Yv—” she caught herself, “—constantly leaving, and with the taxes bleeding us dry, I don’t think he can do much.”

  “Oh, and Aline,” Aila added softly, “I hope you don’t blame Herr Loran’del too much for yesterday’s incident with Vierna, okay? You’ll understand that he meant no harm — he just wants to protect Rolbart, like the rest of us.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I understand his caution,” Lina lied with a small smile. “And about the debt — I’ll figure something out. Maybe I can use the goods the villagers give me when we heal them later on. I just hope it’ll be enough.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Aila smiled warmly. “I’ll try to help by sparing whatever I can.”

  “Ah, no, Aila — I couldn’t burden you with that.”

  “That’s okay. What you did back then helped us greatly, and now you’re one of Rolbart. We don’t have much, but we have each other.”

  Hearing those words tore something inside Lina’s heart. The same familial warmth that once filled her own village — it was too familiar. And realizing that she was spying on people like this made her understand why Vierna’s brow was always furrowed. Spying on kind people was nerve-wracking.

  “Okay, let’s go to the kitchen now. I’m sure you’re hungry too.”

  “Sure. Where do you usually go after eating?”

  “Well, today’s special — we’ll be visiting Herr Loran’del after that.”