Despite my recent success, things were not looking so good. My supplies were running out fast. Water was not the issue. When I had first arrived here, I couldn’t find a drop. Completely parched and out of options, I approached one of the villagers. Yet instead of simply handing me a glass, he pointed me to an old well five miles east. It was an onerous walk under the scorching sun. I still have blisters on my feet from the hard sandals.

I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. There was no point in getting worked up right now. It would do me no good in solving my real problem: Food. I had myself rationed to the bare minimum. I ate two pieces of jerky and small chunk of hard bread a day, but it was not enough. I had only a week and a half before I starved.

Ten days; I had to figure something out in ten days. I could start offering my services for a price. But that would only work for a short period, and would cause what little trust I had established to evaporate into thin air. I didn’t know if I was a part of some organization; if a church was responsible for me and if I were supposed to be receiving money. I didn’t know where I was or what was I supposed to be doing here. I was penniless; I knew nothing about my situation; and I had nowhere else to go. I was completely and utterly reliant on others. I hated it with every fiber of my being.

Taking another lungful of air, I unclenched my jaw. It was getting harder and harder to focus. My mind would wander, my thoughts were jumbled, and my memories were hazy. Hunger and little sleep were taking their toll on me. I wasn’t sure for how much longer I could endure.

I shook my head and stood up. The sun had yet to reach its midst, so it was as good time as any to do my round around the fields. The villagers were busy at work, pulling weeds and attending to their wilting crops. I spent two hours looking around, going back and forth between the roads, the houses, and the fields. But I found nothing I could use.

Late afternoon I went out again. Most of the villagers were gone by now. There were some children playing in the dirt. They’d occasionally glance at me, but other than that, everyone else was too tired to take notice of me. It was the perfect time to continue my rounds. I only returned when the sun was down.

Afterwards, I spent my time gathering whatever I could get my hands on. Unsurprisingly, another page had appeared: “Curse of mild indigestion”. Its main ingredient was rot, which was fairly easy to get. Some of my bread had white and green dots. I kept it in the sun to quicken the process and sat nearby to bash any greedy vermin trying to steal it. It was gory and repulsive but effective.

So, over the next three days my routine consisted of: sitting in the sun and hunting rats in the morning, monitoring the fields and houses in the afternoon, and finally, putting my hand in damp and dark places and hunting some more rats in the evening. I was both pleased and disappointed. I amassed quite the haul, but had nothing I could use it for. The afternoons had been fruitless. If I didn’t find something soon, the kid might be getting a stomachache.

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And as if the heavens had heard me, the next day, he was here, accompanied by his mother and another half a dozen people and Bert. One of the six stood close to the mother and son pair: a lanky man with a heavy beard and hunched back. The rest were women of similar features, recognizable only by the different markings of their ages.

“Father,” the mother spoke. She took a step forward, dragging her son along in her hand. He stood beside her this time. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Father.”

The crowd behind her did not move. Their hands were empty; no pitchforks and torches. None showed any aggression. Though, they were blocking off the only door. If I were to survive, I needed to make another exit.

“Of course not, I’m glad you came by.” I put on a smile. “How can I be of aid?”

The mother glanced at the crowd, relaying a quick and silent message. Then she turned to me again. “My back’s been killin’ me for years, Father. I can’t stand without feelin’ it’d snap in two. Can you talk to the mother for me, Father? Tell ‘er to fix it like she did my boy’s foot.”

I... was not sure how to proceed. There were no words hanging above her head. I did not use the gospel’s recipes a third time. Whatever she had, it had nothing to do with me. I had absolutely zero chance of actually helping her. Erasing my smile, I displayed a slight frown and nodded my head. “Of course, come, sit down first.”

She gave me a grateful smile and sat on one of the benches. Her son and – most likely – her husband stood close to her. I followed and sat next to her. The crowd huddled closer to get a better look.

“Are you ready?” I asked.

She locked her eyes with mine and gave an earnest nod. “Aye.”

I placed my hand on her back. “Tell me more. How does it feel?”

“Like small knifes stabin’ at my back. I need help gettin’ out of bed in the mornin’. I can’t bend down, can’t pick stuff off the ground, can’t play with my boy, can’t carry my little girl,” She choked out the last few words, her voice growing more and more hoarse.

The women in the crowd shock their heads. Her son put a hand on her shoulder. She patted it and shot him a tearful, confident smile

“That’s enough.” Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. “Oh hear me Mother, I beseech you!” I counted up to two hundred this time. Even if this was doomed to fail, I had to give it my all. This was going to undoubtedly tank my credibility. She might have just forced me to target her son again. And I also might have question her belief and blame this failure on her. A loss-loss-loss situation.

I opened my eyes and removed my hand. I watched as the husband took her hand and helped her stand. The moment she was on her feet my heart sank. She burst into tears and hugged him. A dark expression swept over all of the spectator’s faces. They sighed and hung their head, until they finally heard her speak.

“It’s healed,” she said between her sobbing and sniffling. “It’s really healed.”

I was not really sure what was happening. Had they known all along? Was this some elaborate plan to evoke a reaction out of me? I stood dumbfolded as I shook the husband’s hand and hugged the mother back.