Harold’s POV

Late. My shipment was meant to come a week ago. I had paid a lot of gold for this. The winters in Silvermoon Forest grew harsher with every turn of the year and it was all I could do with my meagre stash of preserved herbs that kept this village going. 

It was very much a gamble to pay the well-dressed merchant whose business took him far and wide. But the reviews that I had managed to gather often spoke of how well the merchant could find anything and delivery everything for the right price. I took a chance. That gold was most of my life savings.

My delivery came a few days later. It was a mint shrub that was far larger than I’d expected it to be, though slightly wilted from days of travel presumably. They weren’t native to this forest. I supposed at least, I got my money’s worth. The delivery men came as quickly as this left, rowing their small boat out of the lake to where I presumed the sea was. 

I made a small tincture for Fawkes and his friend. It would help with his breathing after a bad chest infection like that. But when I knocked on Revna’s door, she told me they had left a day ago. So, I left it with her in case they returned and went home to settle my new mint shrub.

The shrub was a little too big to be an indoor plant, I had no choice but to keep it in the biggest flowerpot I could find and stand it right outside my door. Hopefully, I was treating the plant right. I couldn’t afford to buy another shrub.

There were strange occurrences in the next few days. I alluded the missing bread and diminished jam from my larder to rats, but that was only the beginning of it. The rat traps caught nothing, and I found small dolls made of leaves and twig crowns by my mint shrub, probably the village children though I had no idea why they were playing at my door. The shrub had barely improved since I potted it. If anything, it looked cold, so I moved it indoors. 

One morning, as I came to make breakfast and check on the plant, I was astounded by the footprints in my kitchen. They were small, perhaps the size of a ten-year-old child. The prints were made from the soil of my mint shrub. It was all very confusing. Could a mint shrub walk? Or had I managed to order something that wasn’t a mint shrub? 

That night, I left a burning candle by the foot of the stairs and hid in the shadows at the top. Then I waited and waited until I dozed off against the bannisters. It was the soft clatter of a plate that jolted me awake. The candle was almost burnt out and I couldn’t make out the shrub. As I crept silently downstairs, I realised I couldn’t see the shrub because it wasn’t there. The footprints that I’d cleaned away were back.

At the door to my kitchen, I lit the candle I’d hid in my pocket. “Who are you?”

The creature, startled, scrambled under the table furtively. It struck me then that I had a child in my home. A dryad child. I had so many questions. Where had the merchant found a dryad? Did he know it was a dryad? If he knew, had I just accidentally supported a trafficker? It was distressing to think about. But the child quivering under my kitchen table was in greater distress. 

I swallowed my panic. “Hello,” I said softly. “Are you hungry? I have more food if you want.” A few more candles were lit to brighten the room. I checked my larder and there was one more piece of pumpkin pie that the village baker had brought over in exchange for some mint. I grimaced at the memory and brought out the pie. I supposed it was only right that the child got the pie. “Here, have you had pumpkin pie.” 

Emboldened by the lights and the smell of food, the child, a girl, peeked over the edge of the table. Her dark eyes were wide and wary as they kept glancing between me and the pie. 

“Go on,” I said gently. “You’re safe.” A glass of milk was placed beside the plate of pie, I sat down to wait. 

She cautiously sat across me. And when I didn’t take the food away, she began to eat. 

“I’m Harold. What’s your name?”

Being fed did wonders to earn a child’s trust. “Abbey,” she says, mouth full of pie.

“Hi, Abbey. It’s nice to meet you.” I winced internally. Finding a child in such circumstances were hardly pleasant for anyone, not least the child. But Abbey shrugged and continued eating. “Are you cold? I can build up a fire in the hearth.”

The girl nodded and I took a few moments to do that. Alone in the living room, I considered this strange situation. I bought some mint from a merchant, the merchant delivered me a mint dryad, the dryad was a child who had been possibly uprooted from her home. This…was madness.

Over the next few days, we developed a routine. I’d build the fire to keep the living room warm and Abbey would curl up close to the flames. I was rapidly depleted in my firewood stock, but that was easily replenished. Every meal I made now, was for two and it was far more enjoyable than I’d expected. 

Abbey was a bright and friendly child for the most part. She didn’t seem to enjoy talking about how she ended up here and I didn’t push too hard. She also took an interest in my work and sometimes volunteered a sprig of her mint leaves if I needed them for my tinctures, peering over the counter as I worked and asking many, many questions that I tried to answer to the best of my abilities. 

It took a few more days for the real problem to show itself. 

Abbey started getting…sick, for lack of better words. She was listless and depressed, and I thought she must be getting homesick. But then Abbey began to switch between her human child shape and the shrub less and less, as though it tired her to do so. She remained as a shrub for longer periods and ate less too. 

I decided that I had to help. Abbey wouldn’t or couldn’t tell me where she had come from, but I could guess. Gaiala was where most of the nymphai population resided. If we travelled there, someone might know where to go next. 

No one in the village knew of Abbey. I wouldn’t be able to explain her presence and she always hid in her pot if anyone came over. 

The way to Gaiala would not be easy to make. I didn’t have any horses so we would have to make our way on foot. It would be cold in the forest, but it would be a fairly straight journey Westwards. I only hoped that Abbey would be strong enough to make the trip.