Though she spoke confidently, her facade quickly cracked to reveal the red cheeks of embarrassment and uncertainty. This was to be expected, though, since Fëor’s first instinct was to say…

“So a girl named ‘herb’ is wandering around gathering herbs?”

She puffed her cheeks at him again and whipped her head to the side, pouting.

“But…why would you do such a thing?” Fëor continued, his voice surprisingly sorrowful.

“What do you mean?” Ërna tilted her head and furrowed her brows.

“Well,” Fëor began, sorting out his thoughts, “this is their home, right? Why would you take them away from here just to study them?”

He gestured to the glade around him with open arms and, as if conducting a symphony, watched the herbs and flowers respond with playful movement. Their wind joined and wandered, gradually gaining speed as it crescendoed to the end of its phrase: Ërna.

“I-I never thought of it that way before,” she stuttered, feeling a tinge of guilt.

“People often forget,” Fëor continued softly, “that like us, plants are spirits who found refuge in the earth—in Ëolna—after growing weary of their endless wandering as wind in Ethýría. That means they’ve come here to rest, to enjoy a moment of peace within Her embrace. To rip them from their roots, their source of comfort, seems cruel to me.”

At this point, Ërna felt the seed of frustration welling up inside of her. Who was this man to make her feel guilty for gathering herbs? It wasn’t as if she went around stomping on every flower or setting the whole grove ablaze for selfish gain. Why did everyone always have to put her down for pursuing her passions? But before that emotion could boil over—

“I’m sorry,” Fëor interjected. “It’s not really fair for me to put it that way. I’m sure you have good intentions, or else your wind wouldn’t be so warm. Plants are a vital source of sustenance, after all. It’s only natural to gather and use them for a variety of things. I understand that well enough, but...”

Ërna looked at him with concern, empathizing with his inner turmoil; but how his problems related to plants remained elusive to her. She couldn’t fault him for that though, since her own struggles centered around the same thing.

“Anyway,” he recovered, “it looks like you’ve come a long way. To leave home in search of herbs to study…you must have a good reason to go so far. I certainly couldn’t do such a thing…”

“It really wasn’t hard for me to leave,” Ërna muttered. “I didn’t have much of a choice, either…”

Fëor responded with a look of pure incomprehension. For him, there truly was no place like home. For Ërna, though…

“I left home for two reasons,” she sighed, holding up two fingers. “The first is simple: I hated it. I was always put down and scolded for pursuing my ‘impractical’ and ‘improper’ interests. No one liked the things I did either, so I was alone. Sometimes people made fun of me, too…but they usually just frowned at me with disapproval. I despised that look…that tense, suffocating look. It was only a matter of time, really. I finally got fed up with being forced to fulfill expectations I never wanted, so I left.”

Fëor was shocked by her bluntness, but that didn’t stop her from continuing. In fact, she seemed unable to stop. Something about Fëor, his wind and aura, made her feel like she could finally be honest about herself with someone else. It was liberating.

“The second reason is a bit more complicated,” she admitted somewhat sheepishly. “You see, I’ve always struggled to connect with ëolfëár. I never have trouble feeling the presence of fëár, the spirits of Ethýría, but land-spirits seem to avoid me. I had hoped it was just because of where I was stuck living, so I decided to come here to Gälenor instead of trying to find my mother in Älthra—“

She stopped herself, fearing that she may have said too much about her origins as she got carried away; but Fëor’s attention hadn’t wavered, so she continued cautiously.

“Contrary to what I’ve heard,” she resumed slowly, “Gälenor is a beautiful land. Rather than being a scary place filled with shadows, I’ve seen ëolfëár dancing throughout the grove as dewy drops of golden light. I’m sure it’s not always this welcoming, but it’s the closest I’ve felt to the earth—to the stars of Ëolna—since I was born. Yet, even so, I still can’t connect with them. I’ve begun to blame the blessing of my birth, which feels more and more like a curse to me every day…”

Ërna bit her lip in frustration, tears threatening to well up.

Meanwhile, Fëor was in a daze from the wave of words still washing over him. As he put the pieces together, however, several things became clear. The adversity she faced simply for trying to study herbs, her inability to connect with land-spirits, her preconceptions about Gälenor…all of these things confirmed his suspicion about her true identity. And yet, knowing that changed nothing. He should have been afraid, concerned for the safety of his home—but none of his preconceptions mattered anymore, either. He already saw Ërna as Ërna. Nothing more, nothing less.

While Fëor processed everything, Ërna found the strength to continue.

“I’m sorry,” she managed, wiping a tear from her eye. “You asked me why I study herbs, not for my life’s story. For some reason, I got carried away talking about myself even though I hardly know you. Gylthra is a strange goddess, isn’t she?”

She chuckled awkwardly before clearing her throat and regaining her composure.

“I want to make a new type of medicine,” she declared. “Medicine that, with help from both ëolfëár and fëár, can heal any harm done to either the body or the mind. So even though I said I came all this way to study herbs, I also came to study the spirits associated with them—because I can’t succeed without them. Salves and infusions simply aren’t enough. No matter how advanced those techniques have become in Pelren, something important is still missing…”

Her voiced trailed away as she lost herself in thought.

“You’re incredible,” Fëor marveled. “In fact, despite the hardships you’ve faced…I think I envy you.”

That wasn’t the response Ërna expected.