“Mother…” Aeron sighed. He put down his herbs on his work bench and rushed to help Afon carry the food and water into the kitchen. “You don’t have to keep going alone. I can help you.” As he leant over to place the basket on the kitchen table, he pushed his glasses back over his nose.

Afon clutched the water pot, before placing it above the stove. “I know. Thank you, my love. You were busy though.” She walked over to Aeron’s toolkit and rummaged through it.

“Here mum.” Aeron reached into the pocket of his apron with a blackened hand and pulled out a flint and iron. Afon grabbed it and proceeded to light the stove. “Be careful…” The stove firelight reflected off his glasses, casting small rainbows across the kitchen - a fleeting and fragile yet desperately necessary brightness in these dark days.

Afon turned back to her son. As she gently placed the tools back in his hand, she held his dry fingers for a moment. “It’s getting worse Aeron. I don’t blame you but, maybe it’s from the drinking water? You drink it too fast, you need to wait for it to boil properly.”

Her son sighed. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” He threw the flint onto his workbench. It wasn’t like him to throw things. “I’m sorry.” He placed his fingers to his temple, and felt his mother’s gentle hand on his back.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s okay. I know it’s stressful. But you’re smart. You’ll work something out.” She leant up and placed a kiss on his cheek. Her darling son’s bright blue eyes welled up with tears, and his hands gripped the bench tightly.

“I’m trying mum,” his voice shook, his shoulders heavy from the weight of trying to find a cure for the village. “I’m really trying.” He sniffled as he reached for his herbs. “I found these today. They look promising. I think they can help heal me, and the others who are afflicted.”

Afon froze as she looked at the dark purple herbs in his hand. Her chest tightened, clutched by a primal fear. There was only one place to get these from, and the people who lived there had not willingly traded these herbs in years. Her mind flashed with thoughts of pale-haired, lilac-eyed shadows shifting amongst the village cottages. Silver weapons glistening in the moonlight. Purple light glowing as they healed their wounds. And her sickly father, grappling with all of his remaining might with a tall shadow flaming with bloodlust, as their blades sank into each other at the same moment on their living room floor.

She looked at her son. “Where did you find these?” she asked. She forced her voice forced to steady, but her knuckles tightened and grew whiter as she clutched to her dress.

Aeron glanced at his mother. “I… I didn’t. Someone brought them to me…”

“Who?”

“… Deryn. The hunter.”

“Don’t lie to me Aeron.”

Aeron let out a puff of air from his nose. He slicked back his dark red hair. “Okay. I found them in the forest.”

Afon glared at him. The flames under the pot roared.

“Only on the edge! I didn’t go in … too far in.”

Aeron flinched as Afon went to slap him, but she caught herself. She exhaled sharply. “Do you have any idea how much danger you put yourself in?” She screeched. “Those forest people would eat you alive if they saw you. You’re hard to miss being so tall. And you’re so skinny, they would snap you in half like a twig.” Afon grunted, and turned back towards the now boiling water.

Footsteps rang down the stairs, followed by a loud yawn. Aeron looked towards the hallway.

“What are you two yapping about now?” Fern stretched her short, olive toned arms.

Afon poured the water into a cloth filter. “It’s nothing, dear. Here.” She handed her granddaughter a cup of hot water, along with a handful of the best berries she picked. Fern’s face lit up, and she mixed the berries into the cup and swallowed it all in one gulp. Afon smiled.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Yes, it’s nothing.” Aeron took a seat at the table, his hands stretched across the wood. The decaying smell of the berries was overpowering in their small kitchen.

Fern looked at him. “Are you okay, dad? It’s looking worse…”

“Yes. Your observant grandmother said so too,” he said sardonically.

“Do you know what’s causing it yet?” Aeron shook his head. “How about the herbs we picked earlier. Did they work?

Afon glared at both of them. Aeron stared across the room, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. Fern’s eyes shot between the both of them. “Oh … was that… was that meant to be a secret?”

Afon slapped the lid on the pot. “Great! Well I’m glad you two had a lovely day almost getting yourselves killed,” she cried. Aeron sighed and cupped his face in his hands. Afon went to storm upstairs, but struggled at the landing. She clutched the rail, her voice shaking with fear. “I’m so sorry Aeron. I just can’t lose you. Not like I lost your grandfather.” Despite her frailty, the water pot shook as she stomped upstairs and slammed her bedroom door.

Fern took a seat next to her father. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay Fern. Your grandmother, she’s… she’s very sensitive about all of this.”

“Why though? I get why she’d be scared, but is it that serious now? We haven’t seen the forest people since she was a child. Do they even exist anymore?”

Aeron glared at his daughter, then softened his gaze. “I don’t think the forest is as dangerous as it was when she was young. Things were different back then, but you’re right, no one was been harmed by the forest people since then. But we should still respect her fears, she’s worried about us. The situation with the river won’t be making her any calmer any time soon.”

“But do they still exist? The forest people?”

Aeron sighed. “Look, I don’t know. I’ve never seen one of them. The farmers leave food at the forest edge, and it’s always been replaced with herbs, so someone must be trading with us. But the herbs aren’t coming anymore. We should be careful when we explore there to gather them.” He put on a cheeky smile. “And you need to learn how to keep a secret.”

Fern giggled and smiled back. Her stomach rumbled. “Is there anymore?”

Aeron got up to look at the basket. Fern joined him to stare at the decaying mulch. Perhaps her heart sinking into her stomach would keep her full.

Aeron tensed up. “This situation with the river… and the harvests and the trading… it’s… it’s tough on all of us. On everyone. The river, it’s getting sicker by the day.”

“She. Grandma always calls the river ‘she’”.

Aeron sighed, again. “You’re right, she does call it ‘she’. But I’m more focussed on fixing it than naming it. The point being, I think we are running out of time to do something about it.” He held up his blackened hand. “And about this.”

Fern looked at her father. “So what do we do?”

Aeron approached the window, staring at the treeline. “I need more herbs to complete my research. I think they’re promising, but there’s only so much on the forest’s edge.” He turned to his daughter. “I need to go deeper into the forest.”

Fern’s bright blue eyes shot between her father’s and the treeline. Her heart raced, first with anxiety, then with excitement and anticipation. “When are we going?”

Aeron laughed and shook his head. “You’re not going anywhere until you learn to keep your mouth shut.” He ruffled her long, thick red locks. “It’s time for you to sleep darling. You’ll need all your energy tomorrow.”

Fern looked up at her dad with a pout. He smiled kindly back at her, and planted a kiss on her forehead. As he ushered her upstairs, Aeron blew the fire out of the stove, and took a sip of water.

Fern stomped into her room, her footsteps again echoing throughout the house. She slammed her door, jumped onto her bed, and yelled into her pillow. “He won’t let me do any of the fun stuff!”

Her yell barely muffled the unmistakable creak of their front door. Fern leapt up to her window. As the sun began to set, the scraggly form of her father cast a long shadow over the pathway outside. Fern noted that despite his size, he always cast a large shadow. He struggled to pull his basket over his shoulder as he slipped between their neighbours’ cottages. He made his way towards the shadowy southern end of the forest, his large, wise shadow consumed by the looming shadow of the treeline.

Aeron’s gait was determined, but Fern could’ve sworn she felt his gaze meet hers from time to time, compelling her to join him. Surely he couldn’t do this alone. He needed her. And the river needed them. Her half filled stomach churned at the thought of venturing deeper into the forest, but the drive to help her father - and to explore the hidden depths of the trees - burned brighter.

Fern darted to her bag, cramming it with essential items - a scarf her late mother made for her, her favourite stuffed toy, and a small loaf of bread. She latched it over her shoulder, and gave herself a last look in her mirror. She paused for a short moment, reflecting on how absurd she looked with her bag, and fleetingly thinking about how absurd everyone was acting tonight, including herself. But she ruffled her hair, gave herself a determined smile and a wink, and remembered what her father had taught her the other night in the forest. “If it’s yellow, leave it mellow. Purple and blue are the true … or something like that.”

She burst out the front door, calling out for her father in the night. But the shadows of the forest had long consumed him. She was left alone in a cold silence, which was only broken by the faint crackling of the dying stove fire.