(664 A.C.)

Maria loved her town. Really, she did. It wasn't too far north that the wind and snow bared its teeth in the winter, but not too far south that they only had two seasons. There were woods a few miles away, bountiful without crawling with dangerous monsters. The earth around it wasn't the greatest for farming, but it bore them enough to get by comfortably. A river cut through the middle of the town, water kept clean and beautiful by schools of Vert fish nestled in the mud and only poking their ruddy heads out to munch on refuse and scraps. It was the perfect spot to sit and picnic, and often Maria would find herself seated on one of the benches beside the shimmering water, especially during the spring, as it was now since the turn of the season had just come and brought its warmth with it.

She would love to sit on the grass and breathe in the familiar scent of earth mingling with water and bearing life, but her bones were old now. No matter, the benches were just as good for reminiscing.

Maria’s gaze wandered down the river and its bustling banks. There was the bakery where old Jekell sold his bread and buns alongside his wife’s sweeter cookies and rolls. Maria sat close enough to the building that the air was filled with the pleasant scent of bread baking and the spicier aroma of cinnamon and cloves. The pair were as warm and round as one of their freshly baked pies, and Jekell’s wife really should do something about that. Living like that couldn’t be healthy.

Next to the bakery was the seamstress. Hennia was a kind enough woman, though much too forward when it came to romance. She was pretty, yes, but she put those tailoring skills of hers to wickedness. Surely she should know to cover up a bit more around the married men, and that wasn’t even mentioning the way she swooned every time a handsome traveler came through town.

A dusty path cut between the seamstress’s shop and the school. The building wasn’t new, instead repurposed from an old infirmary that was constructed during the Necroplague. Nasty business, that, and Maria was fortunate enough to have come out on the other side of it alive. It was almost ironic, then, that the place where so many died was now the place where children went to begin their lives and education.

Next to the school was the post office. Maria hardly had use of the place anymore, which was a sore spot she’d never admit to Mr. Kentril, the owner of the establishment. He was a gruff man, more benevolent to the monsters that carried messages to and fro then to the people that penned those messages. She never saw him without his prized figona wrapped around his arm. The winged serpent was once a racing monster, from what Maria understood, and Mr. Kentril had made quite a lot of money off of her when they were both in their prime. But all beings aged, and now they were both old and grumpy, ready to figuratively–and literally in the figona’s case–lash out at others.

Beside the post office was the general store. Maria held no ill will toward the owner, Nancy, despite what that old hag might think. It was for the best that they both remained civil toward each other, anyhow–Maria provided some local goods to her, and Nancy sold everything else that could be needed in the town. A perfectly respectable and fair tradeoff.

Maria’s back was to the other side of the river, but she knew from her many years in town exactly what sprawled down the other bank. The main road that connected her town to the rest of Oavale was on that side of the river, and so, the inn and stable were on that side as well. They didn’t see much business, of course, just enough to get by for a family as big as the innkeeper’s.

Next to the inn was the town’s modest library. Apparently, once upon a time, there had been a temple to the old gods nearby that attracted all sorts of scholars and mages as they tried to fight their way through the temple’s perils for the artifact inside. It had created a small community of people that had use of a library, but that was before Maria’s time. The temple had been long cleared out, the mages all moved on, and the only evidence of the event at all was the small library still standing.

Then, sitting just beyond the library, was Maria’s shop and home. A quaint thing, one that she only really kept open for emergencies or requests–all her other goods went to Nancy and her little store. But she had a coveted position on the main road. Not that she would ever boast about it to anyone, no matter what Nancy said.

Behind the Maria’s store and its neighbors were the homes of the various others that lived in town, and past that, the mountains separating them from the hostile land of Lirende. If one was to follow the road to the north, toward Vixx and Iten, they would find themselves surrounded by wilderness for miles until they hit the city of Rippell, a bustling hub of activity and more people than Maria could possibly handle. She would take her little community over a big city any day.

To the east, past the storefronts and homes, were the farmlands and pastures. Maria didn’t often venture far that way–she didn’t find the smell to be very agreeable–but she knew most of the farmers and ranchers that lived that way, and they were kind folk. Simple, of course, but kind, and that was the most important thing.

Down south, if one was to follow the main road that way, they would eventually hit the shimmering expanse of the Bellenii Lake near the border between Oavale and Dryan. Maria had been down there only once, when her late husband took her for their honeymoon. The lake had been beautiful and the locals there friendly. She would love to travel there again, but she was too old for such journeys anymore. She was perfectly content staying right where she was.

Because Maria loved her town. Even as she watched, children ran along the river with kites and smiles, their laughter carrying on the same wind that held their toys up. Young mothers watched them from the shade of trees or from the fronts of the riverside homes as they tended the laundry for the day. Maria remembered doing that too. Watching her sons run wild, and even as she did something boring and tedious, she felt young and alive. All because of them.

Maria hated her town. Because, even if she was here, it wasn't enough for her sons. Even if she would always be here, waiting for them to come home.

She sighed. She had been a good parent. She had loved them and nurtured them and done all the things a mother should without so much as a sigh in complaint. They should be here. They owed that to her. Instead, she was alone.

She stood up, clutching her picnic basket close. She didn't feel like sitting on the bench with nothing but her thoughts for company anymore.

She began shuffling back home, across the bridge and next to the water's edge. There were a few Vert fish drifting lazily in the river's current, their wide, flowing fins waving in the crystalline water like ugly flags. They darted away when she drew near, burrowing into the mud. She stopped and reached into her basket, tossing out some stale bread from a couple days before. The fish didn't resurface, but they would, eventually, and then they'd be happy little things.

Maria faced the east as she fed the fish, toward the fields and pastures, a detail that she wouldn’t have noticed any other day. The only reason she thought of it at all today was because she noticed movement out of her peripheral coming down the dirt path between the seamstress and the school.

Travelers didn’t tend to come from that way. Maria frowned as she brought her head up for a better look.

It was a girl. Thin frame, with golden eyes and blonde hair that tumbled past her shoulders. Maria noticed all of those things secondary to the most important fact: the girl was filthy. Maria couldn’t tell what color her clothes once were, but they all appeared a drab brown. Smeared dirt, only broken up by streaks of sweat, swathed her cheeks and forehead. What could have been lovely hair was impossibly gnarled and caught with all sorts of leaves, making Maria’s heart ache. What a shame! How could that girl’s parents let her traipse around like that?

She walked into town with her head held high. A large pack sat heavily on the girl’s shoulders, and Maria was halfway surprised the girl could even walk under such bulk. She strode with purpose, marching past the other playing children who stopped to stare at her. Their mothers gawked at her from their positions further back from the road, aghast, but none of them made any move to ask the girl what she was doing or where her parents were.

Maria tucked her bread away and watched with a critical eye as the girl walked across the bridge and into the middle of the main road. She looked to the left, toward the south, then to the right, where Maria stood not far off.

The girl’s eyes flicked to Maria’s basket then snapped away. She knelt and unshouldered her pack, undoing the strings holding it shut and rifling through the middle of the pack’s contents. Maria watched as she pulled out a folded piece of paper and carefully opened it. She cocked her head at it, tilting the paper this way and that. Finally, she let out a sigh and glanced once more at Maria. She pursed her lips.

“Hey, old lady,” she called. Maria felt her eyes widen and her jaw drop in shock. “Do you know where I am?”

Maria clicked her tongue at her, tone gently scolding. "One never addresses a lady's age, child. And you should address people as ‘miss’ or ‘sir’." She nodded to herself. "That's good manners. Now, where are your parents?"

The girl gave a put-upon sigh–like Maria had asked a very unwarranted question. “Everyone always asks that,” she said, rolling her eyes. Maria balked. A proper young lady should never do something so disrespectful. “They’re not in the picture,” the girl said. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

Maria frowned. “Not in the picture? You’re out here on your own, then?”

“Look,” the girl said, crossing her arms, “can you just answer my question? And then I’ll leave, and nothing we talk about here will matter because you’ll never see me again.”

Maria tsked. “Child, you really should learn to address your elders with some respect. I am only concerned about seeing a young girl wandering about on her own.”

The girl huffed. “Fine. Then we’ll go through this. My name is Wanily, and I have recently parted ways with a member of the Wandering People who set me up with all these lovely supplies.” She nudged the pack at her foot with the toe of her boots. “We parted on good terms, and now I am traveling the world trying to learn magic, so I would really like you to tell me where I am so I can go somewhere I haven’t been before.” She gestured emphatically to the map in her hand.

Maria listened to Wanily ramble on, the picture of patience. When she was done, Maria patted her basket. “Would you like something to eat, Wanily?”

Wanily’s gaze followed the motion of Maria’s weathered hand. Maria could see her bite the inside of her cheek before meeting Maria’s eyes again with no small helping of suspicion. “Who are you and what do you want?”

Wary little creature, this girl was. “My name is Maria. I don’t want anything from you,” Maria said honestly. “This bread has gone stale but it’s still edible, and you seem hungry. I wouldn’t force someone to starve when I have food to go around.” She reached into her basket for one of the half loaves of bread tucked inside and held it out to Wanily.

She glanced at the loaf, then at Maria, then at the loaf again. Finally, she snatched the offered food and stuffed it into her mouth. She tore a huge chunk in the loaf with her first bite, chewing as she grinned up at Maria. "Thamfs laffie."

"Don't talk with your mouth full, young lady.” By Amera, had no one taught this child anything about how she should conduct herself? “Do you know nothing of manners?”

"I don't care about manners," Wanily announced, and it reminded Maria of her own unruly boys. A fierce pang of nostalgia struck through her. “And would you please tell me where I am?”

"Now, dear, manners are very important. It's how you establish yourself as a good and respectable character. You want people to think highly of you, don't you?"

Wanily arched an eyebrow at her. Maria wondered where a girl her age learned such a habit. “I don't care what people think of me. I don't care if they hate me. No matter what, I'm going to learn magic and become the Archmage. Then I'll help them and they won't be able to hate me anyways 'cause I'll be the greatest and I’ll be helping them."

Maria pressed her lips into a line. “And just how do you plan on learning magic, then?” It didn’t make any sense to her. What did Wanily hope to gain from just wandering around, this way and that, except to be mauled by some monster or die of starvation? She certainly seemed one bad day from skin and bones, and judging by the way she continued to decimate the loaf of bread, she hadn’t seen a good meal in quite some time. What person in their right mind would let a child her age go off and try to provide for herself?

But then, she did say that she had been with a member of the Wandering People. It wasn’t all that surprising, when Maria thought of it that way. The Wandering People were far from the most trustworthy lot out there.

“I’ll teach it to myself,” Wanily declared. She popped the last bite of her loaf into her mouth, chewing animatedly and pointedly swallowing before she continued, “I don’t need a teacher. Don’t want one either.”

Maria hummed. She appraised this girl before her, considering. Maria was old now. It would be nice to have someone else around again, especially someone young and accustomed to fending for herself. And if magic was what Wanily was after, maybe Maria could find something to make her stay. At least for a little while. “Well, I can point out to you where you are,” she said. “But, if it’s magic you want, we also have a library just down the road. I’m sure you could learn lots from the books there. I could bring you there if you like?”

Wanily perked up. “Really?” She looked at the folded map in her hands, then back up at Maria, obviously thinking. “Alright,” she conceded. She bent down and carefully replaced the map into its place in her pack. When she straightened, she swung the bag onto her back, “Lead the way.”

“Now, now,” Maria said, beckoning Wanily closer. She cautiously stepped over, and Maria hooked an arm through hers. Wanily allowed it, but she frowned deeply and looked at Maria from the corner of her eye. “First, we need to get you cleaned up. A young lady shouldn’t be going around looking, like–well.”

Like she’d been dragged through the mud by an ox and dumped in a pit of leaves. But Maria would never say that.

Wanily huffed. “And where am I going to get cleaned up, then?”

“My home is next to the library,” Maria said, politely choosing to ignore Wanily’s tone. She started shuffling down the road toward it, and Wanily followed with not so much as a token of resistance. “We’ll get you into a bath and do something about your hair. Maybe try to salvage those clothes of yours, too.”

Wanily shrugged. “We can cut my hair off if you have scissors. Andurak meant to get me some, but we weren’t able to find any in our budget, and it was those or a compass and obviously I was gonna go for the compass.”

“Oh,” Maria said for lack of anything else. That was... a little troubling. A child shouldn’t have to make such decisions. Well, if Wanily stayed with her, Maria would make sure she didn’t have to make choices like that. Maria could provide for her.

Everything else that went with that could go unsaid.

“I want to keep my clothes though,” she said. “They’re the warmest set I have, and I know it’s technically spring now, but it’ll be winter again eventually so I want to keep these.”

“Oh, I see,” Maria said. If Maria had her way, Wanily wouldn’t need to worry about any of that for a while. “That sounds perfectly reasonable to me, dear.”

As they walked, the children on the other side of the river continued to stare at them. They whispered to each other, pointing and snickering. Maria did her best to ignore them. Their mothers really should teach them better than to do any of that, but soon Wanily would appear respectable, even if she continued not to act like it. Then they wouldn’t have a reason to stop and stare or point and laugh. Maria would whip Wanily into shape if she had anything to say about it.

There were a few other people from town going about their business on this side of the river. Each of them looked at Wanily with surprise before glancing at Maria. Maria smiled at them, familiar faces that she knew would be comforted by the simple act of reassurance. They would nod to her and continue on with whatever they were doing when they saw she had the situation under control.

They reached Maria’s humble abode without any other fanfare. It was a squat building, with brick walls and a shingled roof. A chimney could just be seen over the lip of the tiles making up the roof, though Maria had nothing cooking at the moment so there was no smoke coming from it. One window looked out onto the street from the bedroom, its pink curtains drawn back to let in the afternoon sunlight.

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Maria gestured to the wooden door. It took a couple of seconds of looking between the door and Maria for Wanily to take the hint and open it for her. Maria smiled at her and shuffled inside. Wanily followed, letting the door swing shut behind her.

The inside of her home wasn’t much, with its dirt floor packed down by years of pattering feet, and its wall snug and warm. It had only two rooms: a bedroom that felt much too big and open with only one body and a kitchen with all of Maria's ingredients set in jars on shelves, tucked away in baskets, or hung up to dry. Wanily’s wide eyes drank up all this as she gaped at all the items. She scurried over to the shelf closest to the door, and Maria almost cried out for her not to touch anything–but Wanily merely scrutinized the jars and their contents.

That particular shelf held the ingredients Maria took from pixies. Maria’s town was just big enough that pixies weren’t particularly rare, and their parts didn’t have terribly useful properties. They were good for the occasional anti-inflammatory potion made from their wings, and their eyes could be used for a weak potion that temporarily improved sight. Both items Maria kept pickled in the jars on that shelf. The preserving process made them a little less potent, but if Maria wanted to keep them on-hand for any length of time, it simply had to be done.

“These are–” Wanily said, then cut herself off. “I mean, they’re from magical creatures... right?”

Maria smiled at her. She wasn’t surprised that Wanily recognized the parts as coming from monsters–she did, apparently, travel with a member of the Wandering People, this Andurak she mentioned. “They are,” she said. She went over and picked up one of the jars of eyes. Pixie eyes were black all the way around, like the eyes of barn owls, except for when they grew agitated and a yellow iris would appear. But these eyes were simply black, resembling marbles sloshing around in the crystalline preserving potion. “These are pixie eyes.”

She set down the jar and pointed past Wanily, where there was a small tin sat on the shelf. Wanily handed it to her, and she popped open the latch, pulling off the top to reveal the dried pixie wings sitting on a bed of salt inside. They were grey and leathery, resembling a bat wing in a way. “And these are some pixie wings.”

Wanily stared into the tin. She dragged her gaze away, scanning the inside of Maria’s kitchen and store and its various ingredients. She didn’t have anything particularly rare or hard to find in this part of the world. More items pickled in a preserving potion–frost lion eyes, phoenix hearts, and entire jars filled with the goop from slimes. There were more tins, too, containing salt to preserve claws and beaks and feathers, though those were of course tucked away from sight. And then there were the more mundane items like heather and sage and mint hanging from bundles above the hearth.

Wanily took this all in and haltingly asked, “Why do you have all this?”

Maria smiled, drawing herself up just a touch. “Potion-making is my trade, dear.”

Wanily crossed her arms. “Where do you get your ingredients?”

Maria didn’t understand why she was asking, but she didn’t see the harm in telling her. “I get most of them from the local hunters,” she said. “They occasionally run into flocks of pixies or shoot down enemy phoenixes and figonas. Other ingredients I collect myself. Like the slime.”

Wanily listened to her with a deep frown. She seemed to relax a fraction, her shoulders slumping down. She cast another look around Maria’s home, looking torn between a muted sort of excitement and something deeply unsettled. “But... this is a kind of magic, right?”

Maria tapped a finger against her chin. “I suppose it is. I’ve never thought about it that way, but yes, you’re right. I’m just drawing magic out of items that already contain it instead of using it myself.”

Wanily’s eyes shone with excitement, and her whole face lit up. She dropped her pack to the floor and carefully set it against the wall, just below the shelf of pixie items. “Alright,” she said, turning to Maria with a grin. “You wanted to clean me up? What do we have to do?”

Maria blinked. The girl’s whole demeanor had seemed to switch–she held herself more loosely, her face more open, and her eyes bright. All because Maria had mentioned magic?

Well, most children were interested in magic, Maria had found. Certainly, her own boys had been enamored by it for years, enough that they each had at least green hair. Runin especially had loved illusion spells. He’d make bugs and rats and even a pixie once appear behind Maria and give her an awful fright when she turned around.

And besides, Wanily proclaimed the whole reason she was out on her own was so that she could learn magic. Naturally, if Maria said she could make potions, that would make Wanily more interested in her, at least, and maybe even friendlier.

Maria held up one finger. “Just a moment, dear, and I’ll get the scissors.” She turned toward the chest she kept by the hearth–she was fairly certain that was where she’d left her sewing kit. She had an extra pair of scissors she kept there for this exact purpose.

She found them and a comb after a bit of rummaging, holding them up with a flourish. “Here we are.” She turned back to Wanily, beckoning her over. Wanily bounded over, turning when Maria motioned her to do so, and Maria appraised the situation. She tried running her hand through her hair, if only to get a good feel of it, but her fingers quickly caught on snarls and knots in the length. Wanily’s shoulders bunched up, but she gave not so much as a peep of complaint.

Maria tsked. “It really is such a shame to have to cut off what could be such lovely hair.”

Wanily managed to shrug without bringing her shoulders down to a normal level. “I tried to brush it but I forgot for a few days and then it really hurt to keep trying to brush it so I gave up. And anyway, it doesn’t look that bad so I don’t know what all the fuss is about.”

Maria resisted the urge to laugh or snort or otherwise poke fun at Wanily’s expense. “Dear, you look like you have a nest in your hair. Or several.” Maria was no barber, but she was certain she could cut the majority of the length of Wanily’s hair off while salvaging an inch or two below her ears.

She got to work. She cut out the worst of the mats and knots first–which was most of Wanily’s hair–then moved on to evening out what was left over. Once she was satisfied with the length, she used the comb to work out the smaller tangles bunched around the nape of Wanily’s neck. Still using the comb, she also began brushing out the little leaves and crumbs of dirt caught up around Wanily’s scalp.

"You know,” Maria said as she worked, “I never got to brush the hair of any little girls. I only had boys. Three of them, all strapping young men now. Handsome, too, and that’s not just a mother’s opinion. Two of them are married, one with their own little ones.”

Wanily grunted, drumming her fingers against her thighs. She probably didn’t care much for Maria’s musings, so Maria was surprised when she asked, impatient, “Where are they, then?”

Maria sighed. “One has gone off to live in the city, one of them is a farmer down where the land is richer, and the other is a hunter travelling the world.” She huffed. “All too busy to visit their poor, old mother.”

Wanily tugged at her sleeve. “So why don’t you go see them?”

“I’m old now, dear. Travelling is too hard on me. I write letters, but for every five I send, I get only one reply." She sighed, not an ounce too dramatic. "Such ungrateful children. But you're not ungrateful, are you, Wanily?"

She only shrugged, and Maria frowned down at her. She was supposed to agree. But the child had no sense of propriety, so what did she really expect?

Maria remained silent as she finished tidying the girl's hair. Maybe if she let her think about it for a while, Wanily would change her tune.

When she was done, Maria returned to the chest, replacing her scissors and comb and retrieving a small hand mirror. She moved back behind Wanily and reached forward so Wanily could see her reflection in the mirror.

Wanily peered at Maria’s handiwork, turning her head back and forth. Maria had managed to keep her hair to just above her shoulders, and while it was still filthy and stringy from oil and dust, Wanily looked much more like a person and much less like a bristled brucha.

“Much better,” Maria said. “Right?”

“I guess,” Wanily said, shrugging. Maria brought her mirror back to her chest with a frown. “Can we go to the library now?”

“You should say ‘thank you’ when someone does something kind for you, dear,” Maria chided.

Without missing a beat, Wanily deadpanned, “Thanks.” She stepped back from Maria. “So, library?”

Maria chuckled. “Simmer down, dear. We still need to wash off all that dirt, hm? I have some water from the morning’s dishes I haven’t tossed out yet.” She motioned to the corner of the room where a large, wooden basin of murky water sat. “It'll be cold by now, but it will still get the job done. I’m sure I can find a change of clothes for you when you’re done.”

Wanily huffed. “Alright. But I’m moving the tub to the other room.”

Maria opened her mouth, thought of how Wanily effortlessly toted around that massive pack of hers, and closed her mouth. “Sounds good, dear. I’ll go find some clothes for you.”

Maria went to her bedroom while Wanily rolled her sleeves up. She would leave Wanily to it.

Her bedroom was a sparse room, with only a large bed, a chest at the foot of the bed, and a wardrobe against the other wall. She drew the curtains to the window, and with that done, opened the chest and pulled out a dress. It was a keepsake from Maria’s younger days, the fabric a pretty, pastel pink and the garment itself slim as a reed. It would probably still be a little big and long on Wanily’s underfed body, but it was the best Maria could offer her. She laid it carefully on the bed.

Harsh footsteps on the dirt floor made Maria turn and watch as Wanily, red in the face, waddled into the room with the tub held in front of her. Her outstretched arms shook with the effort of not dropping it, but she managed to bring it to the middle of the room before she bent her knees and let the tub fall an inch to the floor. The water inside sloshed up in big droplets that fell back into the bucket with a rushing sound like dust peppering stone.

“There,” Wanily said. She glanced around the room, gaze lingering on the window with its curtains drawn, and nodded to herself. She unceremoniously began to shuck off her filthy clothes, depositing them into a heap by her feet.

Maria politely averted her gaze and shuffled back toward the kitchen. “I’ll fetch some soap and a rag,” she said as Wanily dropped into the tub with a small splash.

“Ack!” she squeaked, gripping the edges of the tub until her fingers turned white. “Cold!”

“I warned you,” Maria said over her shoulder, smiling.

She grabbed a bar of soap and a spare rag from a cabinet in the kitchen and shuffled back into the bedroom just in time to see Wanily dunk her head under the water. When she resurfaced, her teeth were chattering, but she uttered no complaint, simply holding out her hands. Maria handed her the soap, and she got to work scrubbing down her arms and legs. The water, already gray and cloudy from the dishes that morning, steadily turned darker and darker.

Once Wanily had scrubbed down her body she swiped the soap against her hair several times before using her other hand to rub it in, frothing her head in suds. She held her breath and went under the water again, this time for several seconds as her hands came up to rub at her hair, teasing out the soap lathering it.

Maria watched with a critical eye to make sure Wanily didn’t miss anything, but she thoroughly scrubbed and lathered and rubbed until Maria could actually see skin instead of grime. By the time she was finished, she was shivering and the chatter of her teeth could have been mistaken for hoofbeats against stone. Still, she didn’t make so much as a peep as she climbed out of the tub and accepted the rag from Maria, wiping the water from her body and hair. Maria grabbed the dress from her bed and handed that to Wanily next.

Just as Maria thought, the dress was loose on Wanily around the waist and chest, and the skirt haloed her ankles. One sleeve of the dress slipped off Wanily’s shoulder as she grabbed the skirt and twisted one way then another, examining herself. “Not bad,” she said.

Maria cleared her throat.

Wanily rolled her eyes. “Thank you.”

Maria smiled. “You’re welcome, dear. Now, get your boots on. I think it’s time we went to the library.”

Wanily brightened, a lopsided grin overtaking her face. She stepped into her boots and hooked her arm through Maria’s once more. “Let’s go!”

Maria let Wanily pull her back to the front door. She opened it for the both of them and tugged Maria through with an urgency like the reaper itself was after her. Outside, the wind had died down to a light breeze, enough to be refreshing but too little to keep kites in the air. The children now sat still as statues, waiting with wide eyes trained on the riverbed. Whenever a Vert fish was lulled into a false sense of security and wriggled out of the mud to float in the current, the kids would shriek and plunge their small hands into the water. The poor fish would flare its wide, flowing fins and blow a jet of bubbles in a cloud around it before darting back into the mud. The children always erupted into laughter.

Maria resisted the urge to click her tongue. It wasn’t her place to scold those children, but their mothers really should teach them better than to torment the Vert fish. Since the Necroplague and their first conception, they had become a cornerstone of any community, purifying the water from not only the necro algae but many other sources of disease. The children really should leave them be.

Wanily slowed for only a moment as she watched the other children, her eyes wide. Her gaze was quick to skitter away though, and she continued to tug Maria forward to the library next door. She wanted to learn magic, and it seemed she would not let anything distract her from that goal.

Maria hadn't been lying when she said the library was small. It was little bigger than her own home, and the only thing distinguishing the building was the wooden sign that hung over the road. The roof had recently been coated with tar to help keep the rain out in preparation for the spring showers. Maria had to tug Wanily to a stop in front of the steps leading up to the entrance, and that was when she got the first inkling that maybe this visit wouldn't go as planned.

“Oh, it’s this one?” Wanily asked, frowning up at the building.

“Yes,” Maria said slowly. “Didn’t you read the sign?”

Wanily gave her an incredulous look. “What makes you think I know how to read?”

Maria frowned. “You don’t–? But then, what were you going to do in the library?”

“Look at the pictures,” Wanily said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

How should Maria put this? “Dear, I don’t think the books you’ll be looking at will have pictures.”

“What!?” Wanily whirled toward her, tearing her arm from Maria. “How can they not have pictures? How am I supposed to–” she cut herself off with a frustrated sound in the back of her throat, hands curling into fists. She let out an explosive breath, all the fire leaving her in one fell swoop that left her frame drooping. “You know what? It’s fine. I’ll just keep moving. Thanks anyway, Maria.”

This was perfect. Maria had something Wanily wanted, and Wanily had something that Maria wanted.

“Well,” Maria gathered herself up before Wanily could turn away, “I can teach you.”

Wanily narrowed her eyes. “Really?”

“Of course,” Maria said, folding her hands on top of one another in front of her. She smiled at Wanily. “You want to learn how to read, and I know how. And in the meantime, you can stay with me and help me out around my home and shop.”

“So you’re doing this so I’ll help you,” Wanily said slowly.

“It’s only fair, isn’t it? I help you, and you help me. You would owe me that much.” It all made perfect sense to Maria. She couldn’t understand why Wanily was looking at her like that, all indignation and incense.

“I wouldn’t owe you anything,” Wanily hissed. “You shouldn’t help others because you want something in return–you should help others because it’s the right thing to do.”

Maria pursed her lips. She didn’t like how Wanily was talking to her, not one bit. “You will watch your tone with me, young lady. Show your elders some respect.”

“Try earning it, then,” Wanily retorted.

Maria gasped. She hastily glanced around. There were still plenty of people out and about at the moment, children to set bad examples for and their judging mothers. She seized Wanily’s ear, yanking down. Wanily let out a sharp yelp and followed the movement so she had to roll her eyes up to meet Maria’s glare. “How dare you speak to me like that? I’ve done nothing but show you kindness and patience, and you’ve been just as ungrateful as every other child I’ve ever taken care of. I’m offering you something good here, and you seem incapable of appreciating it.”

Wanily clawed at her grip until Maria released her. Wanily tenderly massaged her earlobe, glowering at Maria. After a moment, all the rage drained from her expression, leaving just a sullen child. “You talk about respect, but it’s obvious you don’t respect me. You just want me to do stuff for you.” Maria opened her mouth, but Wanily continued, “And y’know, I know that’s what people do. Lots of them want to use other people, but it’s stupid to pretend that you don’t want that. So just...” Wanily trailed off with a sigh, crossing her arms and looking away. “I’m okay with staying with you, if you’ll teach me. And I’m okay doing things for you, if that’s what I have to do. But I’m not okay with you acting like you’re doing me some big, ol’ favor that I need to spend all this time and effort making up to you. So, just treat me like a person, and I’ll do the same for you.”

Maria felt her own indignation wilt. She let out a long breath, face easing from a scowl into a more palatable grimace. She sighed, touching an old, thin hand to Wanily’s arm. Wanily regarded her warily but didn’t move away. For that, Maria was grateful. “Alright, alright. That's enough of that," she huffed. She knew the words she should say but they wouldn't come out. Her apology sat on her tongue and burned and soured until she swallowed it back. "If I ask for your help, will you give it?"

"Yeah." Wanily gave her a dubious look, like that had been obvious. “Of course. That’s why I want to learn magic–to become the Archmage and help people.”

Maria nodded. “Okay.” She looked back up at the library. “Then we’ll wait to come here, alright? Until you know how to read. I can teach you or we could even have you attend our school.” Wanily grumbled something, and Maria clicked her tongue at her. “Speak up, Wanily. It’s impolite to mumble.”

Wanily sighed, kicking at the ground with the toe of her boot. “It was nothing. I don’t really want to go to the school, so I’m fine with you just teaching me.”

“Alright then,” Maria said, smiling. “I taught all my boys to read, you know, so I’m sure I won’t have any problem at all teaching you, too. And maybe,” Maria added, smile becoming just the barest touch sly, “I can teach you a thing or two about potion-making along the way.”

That got Wanily’s attention. She stood up straight, both feet planted firmly on the ground. “Really?” she asked, eyes shining.

Maria chuckled. “Of course. If you’re going to be helping me in my shop, you’ll need to know a thing or two about potions and their ingredients.”

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say. Wanily’s face fell and she looked away sharply. “Right. I’m going to help you in your shop. Using parts from magical creatures to make potions.”

“Is there a problem?”

Wanily sighed through her nose. “No. We’re just... helping each other, right?”

Maria pressed her lips into a line. She didn’t like it when Wanily put it like that–it made Maria sound almost predatory–but that was the core of the matter. “Right.” Maria held out her arm, and Wanily hooked hers through it. Maria led the way back to her home, Wanily walking alongside her and slowing her pace to match Maria’s.

Maria stopped the both of them before they went back inside. “Wanily,” she began. Wanily spun to face Maria, wary. “You do realize... I’m not the only one. That looks for something in exchange for doing someone a favor. For helping.”

Her eyes fell. “Yeah. I’ve seen it loads while I’ve been traveling, and before that, too. People will help me but only if I can offer them something.” She scrunched up her nose before her expression softened. “It was Andurak, actually, that made me change my mind. The member of the Wandering People that helped me. He told me that just because everyone else demanded something, I didn’t have to. It didn’t cost him anything to teach me how to survive in the wilderness. So he did. He didn’t ask for anything in return, but his kindness made me want to be kind, too.” She shrugged. “That’s why I want to learn magic and become the Archmage. I can help people with my magic, and it won’t cost me anything.”

Maria gave her a sad smile. “That’s very noble of you, dear.” She let the matter drop, ushering her into the house. Who was she to crush Wanily’s dreams? Life would do that more effectively than Maria could.

It made something in Maria’s gut squirm, though. Before, she had hoped Wanily would stick around as long as Maria could entice her to, but now she just hoped Wanily would move on as quickly as possible. Maria didn’t want to watch her grow up and become selfish. Everyone always did.