The modest stone cottage is lit by three flickering candles and a crackling colorful fire in the hearth. It is crowded with old but well cared for furniture and is both quiet and warm. Vases and pots of great diversity filled with flowers and what most would call weeds are scattered on and about the furniture and floor. Dried flowers and herbs tied with twine hang from the ceiling add a potpourri of scents and colors increasing the cramped feeling.
The main room was a bustle of activity. The healer in her plain dress and brushfire of hair had finished stowing the last of the items intended for the large worn leather backpack. Securing it tightly she handed it off to the dwarf who arrived just when she needed him to. “Brogah put that in the back with him. A quick look around for the thousandth time and no sign would be left of her patient. She followed the dwarf outside to check on said patient as he lay in the back of the small wagon brought by Brogah. She nodded her approval. “This will do well,” she says more to herself than anyone else.
Her patient was lying propped up in the back of the wagon looking around at the trees. “It were wint’r las’ time I ‘as outside. I los’ me good bit o’ time. I ‘membered somethin’ more as I’s gittin’ in this wagon. Me family. They all died when I ‘as a lad. Don’ know why a wagon’d spark tha’ but…,” his words die but he forces himself to smile at remembering. “Least it’s somethin’ even if’n it ain’t a good mem’ry.”
She smiles pleasantly, “Yes it’s something. There will be more and more. And we know your name, Rob, or Conrob I mean. Eventually all your memory will return, I’m sure of it. Now you be careful and take care of yourself. I’m sorry you have to leave like this but it’s the only way to keep you safe,” she says as if a family member was departing.
The big man nods then smiles sincerely. “I’m ferever in yer debt. I can’ thank yer enough. I owe yer me life an’ me healin’. I still don’ understan’ wha’ this fella’s after wit’ me but I trust yer wit’ me life so I’ll do as yer says.” He nods to reinforce his commitment.
Brogah now settled in the front seat nods his readiness to the red-headed healer. “It’s time.”
The woman nods back and Brogah shakes the reins and the wagon begins to roll forward headed down the lane from her modest cottage. She waves till the wagon is out of sight then goes into the cottage. The door closes slowly behind her.
