The next day, I awoke to rain. First only a drizzle, the soft rumble of thunder seeming so far away but engulfing everything. The green was gorging itself on the gently falling water, the birds were whistling despite it, and the Fae were outside playing. I could just barely hear their gentle footsteps, pattering on the emerald meadow’s ground. I rose with the sun, with a smile, and made my way outdoors.

Gavin was seated on my front porch, not looking at all bothered by the weather but instead like he felt at home. Eyes drowsy with the color of rain, his face relaxed like a child’s, he was at peace, holding onto a book he must have found from my library. The scarlet cover and golden spine contrasted everything, and he was only glancing over the pages as he turned them and rubbed the necklace I made him. I sat down beside him, and he gave me a smiling glance.

“It’s so pleasant here, it seems timeless.”

I nodded. The Fae hadn’t noticed me come out, and were still playing as if nothing else mattered but then and there. Broonies hiding in bushes, running with shouts of laughter when others found them. House Elves rolling and tumbling through the meadow’s grasses, tackling each other with grins filled with joy. To any outside observer, they would look like children losing themselves in the fun they were having. That outside observer would see it all as chaos, possibly thinking that they needed an adult to restrain them from being so rash and playing in the rain. But it was beautiful. Their laughter filled the trees, mixing with the birdsong and the drizzle of rain. Timeless and never tiring, no Fae left out, their play was all that mattered. None to restrain them, none to scold them for doing the very thing others lacked the courage to. Existing.

I slowly eased out of my spot on the porch and made my way back inside. Gavin followed, a permanent smile plastered to his face. It made me smile, as well. I noticed an earthy smell and glanced at him. He shrugged and smiled wider.

“I’m not fond of tea, so I made do with my own ingredients.”

He ducked into my lab and retrieved a small kettle and two wooden mugs. They were filled halfway each with an amber-black liquid. It smelled wonderful. I took a sip and scrunched up my nose. He laughed heartily.

“I should’ve warned you, it’s quite bitter.”

He laughed again. I had to admit, it was bitter, but there was something about the earthy scent that dragged me back into it. I scrunched my nose a second time, but I realized I could learn to enjoy this beverage. It was unique.

“If you have any honey, we could add some to sweeten it up.”

I squinted at him, but nodded. It was worth a shot. The Fae began to roll in from their play, and I requested one of them fetch the honey. They brought it, but not without taking a small scoop for themselves. Gavin added a splash to both of our mugs and said to stir it around a bit. I did, and took another sip. The sweetness was barely there, but it improved my experience nonetheless.

“What is this called?”

Gavin shrugged, “Pa used to bring some home with him every few months, it was popular in our family. He said it was called many things, but we stuck with ‘Amer.’”

I realized drinking it woke me up quickly. I had the urge to study it, to find out it’s uses and where to find it. I questioned him about it, and he chuckled.

“Pa would never tell, he only ever said it was from merchants from far away. I’m surprised you hadn’t heard of it. But, I do have some of the beans on me.”

I looked up at him, and he gave me a sly grin, placing a few in my hand.

“Good luck getting them to grow, though. Even my parents couldn’t get them to, and they’re as skilled with plants and gardening as you can get. It would take magic and miracles to grow them in this climate, but I have a feeling you’ll be able to. Take them as a gift, in return for the trinket.”

I had four chances. Four beans. I hugged Gavin for his generosity, catching him by surprise. He hugged me back, chuckling softly.

“There’s no need for this, Fawn, you’ve been damn good to me and I appreciate it.”

Suddenly his chuckling stopped. I stepped back. His face had fallen, the space between his eyebrows wrinkled with thought.

“I’ll have to be going soon,” He murmured. I tilted my head.

“I started traveling, to find a cure for Pa. I got a bit sidetracked when I was attacked. I’ve enjoyed this, but I’ll have to move on by tomorrow.”

I frowned, “Can you describe your father’s symptoms?”

He looked surprised.

“I am a healer, after all. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

I began to jot down the list of symptoms he described. Fever, convulsions, and profuse sweating were all relatively normal symptoms that I had encountered before, but soon he began to describe hallucinations, sleep talking, and impaired reasoning. We could try a cure-all elixir, but depending on the state Gavin left him in, I was unsure if that was for the best. It seemed to be an affliction of the mind. I set my feather pen down and held my chin thoughtfully. Gavin looked hopeful that I could help, and I didn’t want to disappoint him. Though, I didn’t want to lie to him, either.

“I don’t entirely know how to treat this, and I’m unsure of what it is exactly, but I’m willing to try.”

His face fell, but he perked up again.

“Trying is really all we can do at this point.”

I nodded. No wonder the emotional turmoil was so present and ingrained on his appearance. He had already accepted that there could be nothing to do, but he was still here, making an effort. I admired that. I knew what it was to lose those you loved from a sickness, and I didn’t want him to have to go through that same pain.

We spoke in depth that day, about the symptoms and the causes. He said his father had come home one day, pale and tired, mumbling incoherently about the forest ground and entrancing music. My eyes widened as he described what sounded like a Faery celebration. Flora had taught me about them, the danger they posed to humans. Gavin’s father was lucky to have even returned home with his sanity partially intact. I realized he must have been immensely strong of will. There was still hope.

“Your father has been afflicted by the Otherworld,” I told Gavin, “But you’re very lucky to have found me, because I have experience in these things.”

His eyes lit up, but he seemed suspicious.

“Don’t worry, I have no interest in afflicting anyone with anything, and neither to the Fae who live here.”

Standing, I made my way to my lab. Gavin eagerly followed close behind. I scavenged through my cabinets, looking for a few select herbs. There was one I would have to go out and harvest, specifically. Mullein, or the candlewick plant. It was used to ward off magic, which was likely what was afflicting Gavin’s father. I worked quickly, gathering a few sticks of rowan and some dried rue. The rue would ease his convulsions, and the mixture of burnt rowan and mullein would disperse the Faerie enchantment he was under. Though he might throw up an obscene amount of dirt and leaves… Things in the Faerie realm were almost never as they seemed. I suspected he had eaten of their food, and danced to their music, to be under such a condition. I handed the materials to Gavin, told him to wait in the cabin, and set off to find mullein.

It didn’t take me but a short trip into the forest to find it with the morning light putting in most of the work. I broke off a few leaves and thanked it before returning to the cabin. They would need a day or two to dry. I hoped this would do the trick, but I supposed I would never know. If only there was some way to know… I shook my head. The world didn’t work like that, one could only hope their friend was doing well when they had no way to check. It would work. It had to.

I tied the bunch of mullein leaves together to dry on Gavin’s journey. I sighed, accepting the harsh reality. People came and went. Gavin was a wonderful human to be around, and I thoroughly enjoyed his company, but he had other responsibilities to attend to. I understood all too well, I just hoped my remedy would work.

I noticed there was a spark in his eyes, and they were still the color of the rain. I could see the melancholy emotion on his face, the crease beside the corners of his lips, the knowledge that he would be leaving a close friend.

“It’s best I set off, while the day is still young,” He murmured. I nodded.

“Stay safe out there, Gavin. May luck and peace be with you.”

With Gavin gone, my days returned to their normal eccentric routine. Elixirs, whittling, meditating, riding, selling my goods and visiting Cliff’s End from time to time. Alder seemed understanding when I told him Gavin left. Sometimes, on drizzly spring mornings, I would rise early and hope to see Gavin seated on my porch with that scarlet and golden-spined book…

It made me laugh, because I never did see that book again.

Life is funny like that.