Butterbur

((This letter is in untidy scrawl, but is legible.))

Dear Miss Cymaru,

I'm writing to let you know that my big sister Bethlan won't be able to work for the next week. She passed out in the kitchen on her shift yesterday. A kind patron took her to a bed and had a healer check her out. Seems she has a fever. Hope it won't be too serious.. our dear mum passed from one.

It had been yet another hard day's work on the farm. Now it was the middle of the night and Eolair lay in bed beside his wife, Mariah, getting some well-earned rest. His two sons lay in a bed closeby, just one and three years old. They would make good farmers when they were older.

It was closely coming round to that time of year. The heat of the sun finally piercing the frost of the morning and encouraging flowers to blossom and leaves to grow. The home had remained almost the same, except for the traces of Drandr dotted hither and thither.