From inside the red colored tent, she heard several chatterings from a number of voices. Their tones were serious but unfortunately, Cecillia wasn’t able to decipher their muffled words. Blackie on the other hand could clearly hear the words, as her ears twitched along every echo. Except the wolf wouldn’t be able to understand and convey what was going on to her. If she could speak to animals…

‘Maybe one day,’ she thought.

It was wishful thinking and Cecillia sighed. She took the moment to rest and her body slumped. The events of the day were quite harsh and her stamina level had fallen to a precarious state. Her health was hanging around the halfway point, but the recovery had stalled out and didn’t seem to be going up anytime soon. As for her mana, empty as always.

Health: 45/130

Mana: -/-

Stamina: 11/100

Perhaps due to the fading sun casting a curtain over her, drowsiness had begun pulling her away.

Cecillia reached into her cloak, her hand lightly grazing over her dagger’s edge, though not to the point of drawing blood. She wasn’t sure whether to knock or call out or anything, but she didn’t have to wait long as the tent flaps rustled.

Through the momentarily tiny gap, she saw an eye staring back at her and she blinked. It wasn’t long before the flaps rustled again, this time revealing a wrinkled face.

“Well hello there sweetie. What’s your name?”

“...Cecillia.”

“Cecillia is it? That’s a beautiful name honey. Now why don’t you come inside?”

The owner of the raspy voice was an old woman just barely taller than herself. She had coarse graying hair that was tied back in a messy bun and her eyes were a soft green, most notably kind.

[Healer]

By now, Cecillia was already accustomed to using her identification skill whenever she saw somebody new. And she understood what Arthur meant by telling her to go to the tent.

‘This must be Layla then.’

Cecillia nodded and prodded Blackie forward. The woman seemed unfazed by the massive wolf and led her into the tent that resembled a living room; though it was far from luxurious. Thick curtains hung from the wooden frame and a singular warm lantern filled the space with light.

In one corner, a modest set of chairs surrounded a medium-sized wooden table. People sat there, looking over faded papers as their eyes slowly shifted up to meet her presence. Two older men, another woman who was middle-aged and a gaunt-looking emotionless statue.

[Librarian]

[Baker]

[Sage]

[Hunter…]

Although, Cecillia paused as her eyes settled on a familiar face. She gazed at him silently before the old woman gave her a concerned look.

“I’m sorry, this is all we have left,” she said bitterly. “I hope it isn’t too unpleasant.”

“It’s not that…” Cecillia’s voice trailed off as Doran, who had been sitting quietly at the far end of the table stood.

“Layla, this is the girl I told you about,” Doran said in his most monotone voice yet.

The woman cackled. “Don’t you think I know that already, who else would she be with that big unmistakable dog.”

Layla turned back to Cecillia and gave her a gentle smile. “Sweetie, why don’t we get you fixed up and get you some shoes. That young man over there told me you got quite a few injuries.”

‘Did he really?’ Cecillia stared.

Doran scowled. “I didn’t say an—”

“Hush child, you’re startling the girl,” Layla snapped as Doran released a resigned sigh. He sat back down in his chair and continued to brood away.

“Don’t mind him dear,” Layla said, her expression softening. The old woman walked over to a bench on the other side of the room and patted the wood. “Come. I won’t hurt you.”

Trusting the woman, Cecillia followed after and Blackie helped her settle down on the bench. She set her dagger and pouch with the mana-cores to the side, but when she was about to remove her cloak, she hesitated. Her eyes floated nervously to the group of onlookers and her cheeks were lightly tinted pink.

Layla picked up on the hesitation immediately and shot them a glare. The curious gazes fell back to their weathered papers while surprisingly, it was the woman who let out a grumble.

Finally feeling safe, Cecillia undid the buttons of the cloak and the garment protecting her body fell to the floor. The only thing left behind was the bloodied and tattered white blouse that loosely clung to her frail frame.

Layla let out a gasp, a hand flying to her mouth as she saw the girl’s tender skin and the claw marks on the other arm. Cecillia also showed the woman her feet which were covered with still open lacerations.

“By the gods…” Layla winced. “You poor thing.”

Cecillia shrugged. “Please don’t worry, it’s really not that bad.”

Layla gave her an incredulous look before releasing a heavy sigh. “...You must’ve lived a hard life before the seal.”

Cecillia wasn’t able to respond as a distant look came onto her face. Even if they had different scenarios within their heads. It was indeed a difficult life. She remembered those days where she constantly cried, hating life, loathing everything about herself. Remembering how she became a mindless robot just to escape from her own uselessness.

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This was the truest pain. When she knew that for no matter how long she begged, no matter what she did, her loved ones would not return. She had denied the world.

Cecillia then glanced down at her arm, something like this, was nothing.

Layla left the girl in her own silent moment and went to gather a few supplies from a nearby chest. She retrieved a bandage roll, an earthy scented dried herb and filled a small wooden basin with water. The old woman returned and kneeled down on the grass, taking one of Cecillia’s feet to scrub off the dirt and dried blood.

Cecillia wordlessly stared down as Layla worked quickly. In just half a minute, her feet were sparkling clean and a bandage was wrapped around to cover her soles.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

“Don’t mention it,” Layla smiled warmly. “If you have some extra points. Put them into constitution, it’ll speed up your natural healing.”

Nodding, Cecillia quickly opened up her interface and dumped ten points into the constitution attribute. She immediately felt a small change as her max hp was raised to 230 and generally felt healthier. She wanted to save her points, but with her magic class current inaccessible it shouldn’t hurt to bring up her defenses.

The healer stood up and took the herb, placing it into her mouth. The sight was a little odd, but Cecillia remembered how some primitive medicinal uses were performed as such.

The woman must’ve sensed her intrigued gaze and started to explain. “The herbs are to reduce infection.”

“I see.”

Layla began to use her teeth, chewing on the plant to ground it into a thin, sticky paste.

[Crushed Bloodwort]

Identify told her what kind of it was and she continued to watch as the woman spat out the green pulp into her hand. Gesturing for her arm, Cecillia held out her limb and allowed Layla to smear the herbal mixture over her tender skin. She finished the treatment by wrapping the bandage around the paste and settled backwards as if to gaze upon her work.

Almost immediately, there was a soothing effect akin to cold ice that also brought the comfort of a gentle warmth. Cecillia assumed it was just the effect of the herb, but what happened next caused her eyes to widen in shock. Layla gently placed a hand on her arm and a pale light started to permeate through the bandage. The light was faint at first, like a faraway star, but as the seconds went by, it grew brighter. A warm sensation flowed through her limb and the dull pain that was once there nearly diminished completely. She couldn’t help but release an airy moan of pleasure as the druglike feeling removed all her worries.

‘This is healing magic?’ she wondered.

It was similar to the stories depicted on earth about powerful magicians that could heal at a single touch. But as her gaze turned back to Layla, she quickly pulled back her arm.

The woman’s face had blanched, the faint colors having disappeared as beads of sweat appeared on her forehead.

“Cecillia dear, I’m okay,” Layla said with a reassuring smile.

Although, she couldn’t hide the weakness in her voice as Cecillia bit her lip. If it was like this, then she wouldn’t accept it. Layla had already done more than enough for her.

“I don’t need it,” she said bluntly. In this situation, it was better to be rude. She didn’t want to let the woman push herself over something so little.

“Cecillia please, you’re hurt and injured. It’s my job as a healer,” Layla pleaded.

Cecillia shook her head. “I’m fine, thank you for everything you’ve done.”

Layla frowned, but once she saw Cecillia’s adamant eyes, she couldn’t do anything but sigh.

“Alright honey, I’ll go get you some new clothes okay?”

Cecillia hesitated for a moment. She didn’t want to take anything more from the woman, but once she realized that Layla had already left to fetch her the clothing, she finally relented. “Okay.”

It wasn’t long before Layla returned, holding a neatly folded set of clothes in one arm, a pair of black boots in the other. Frills were seen on the soft looking fabric, and it reminded Cecillia of what a young girl would wear.

“I’m sorry we don’t have anything else,” Layla said. “But they’ll be much better than what you’ve been wearing.”

“Thank you,” Cecillia said gratefully as she took the bundle of cloth into her arms. She felt the delicate cloth and it was like linen. Usually, she wouldn’t choose to wear something like this, but nonetheless, she was beyond thankful.

“You’re welcome dear,” Layla said. “My daughter’s grown out of those already, and we weren’t able to take her other clothes from when she was a child.”

“Is she here?”

Layla shook her head sadly. “Not anymore, she left for the capital to study but right now we can’t receive any letters.”

Cecillia nodded and the woman continued. “I’ll leave you to get changed and bring you a bowl of food. You’re fine with ox and veggies right?”

“I’m al—”

Though Layla’s stern gaze quickly shut her up. Cecillia felt a little ashamed, she hadn’t felt this kind of kindness in such a long time. It just… felt odd, that’s all.

“It sounds perfect,” she finished.

Layla smiled, and patted the girl’s shoulder. “Sit tight, I’ll be right back.”

“Oi bring us back some too!” A man at the table said heartily.

“Oh shush, Georgie. Hasn’t a pig like you eaten enough?”

Layla grinned and left the tent skipping unlike an old woman as Blackie’s eyes trailed after her. The flaps rustled as Cecillia changed into the fresh garments and slipped into the pair of boots. Now dressed with clean clothes, she felt a lot more comfortable but had entered another unknown as she felt the gazes once again fall upon her.

“Young miss,” the man who had spoken earlier said. “How’d you find your wolf anyways?”

Cecillia paused and turned to face the man. It was the Librarian, and he had the generic wise features of one. Spectacles with white hair adorning a wrinkled face with many lines. Despite his age though, there was still the boyish twinkle that she recognized as wonder within his eyes.

“I didn’t find her, she found me,” Cecillia answered. She felt a little awkward standing before them with the frilly white blouse, and her fingers fidgeted slightly with the sleeves.

“Really?” The man said, a flicker of interest flashing onto his face. “I’ve read a book on the Twin-Tailed Wolves, they’re supposed to be solitary creatures that would never reveal themselves to anyone.”

Cecillia glanced at Blackie whose tail was wagging from the attention then turned back to the man. “I guess she was only hungry, she tried to steal my deer.”

“Is that so?” The librarian laughed. “Well come on over, we’ll introduce ourselves.”

He slid a chair back and shifted it slightly to welcome her. Everyone’s eyes were on her, and she had no choice but to walk up to seat herself at the table.

Once the librarian saw that she made herself comfortable, he began to speak.

“As you’ve already heard, I am George from Lineage Harroway. A librarian from Willowmere.”

“More like an ancient librarian,” the man next to him snorted.

It was the sage who spoke and to Cecillia, it was a tad little bit ironic. His hair was whiter than the librarian’s, and she thought that he was old to the point where if the wind blew the wrong way, he would keel over at that very moment.

“Missy. I am Franklin, the last of Lineage Crowley.” he said. “Also from Willowmere.”

Cecillia bowed somewhat at his words and the sage flashed a toothy grin. He slapped Doran’s back which prompted a hateful glare, but Franklin only laughed.

“I see that you have your respect for your elders in the right place,” he said. “Unlike this young man over here.”

“Oh quit it would ya Franklin,” The woman finally spoke. “Poor girl’s been through enough. She don’t need you to talk about respect towards elders.”

The sage grumbled, “Bah, I could care less.”

The woman was the baker, and she turned towards Cecillia. “Young lady, I must say that you’re very beautiful. Has anyone told you that?”

The baker’s comment left Cecillia momentarily speechless and she didn’t know what to say until the woman waved her off dismissively.

“Don’t worry about it dear, I’m just teasing. I’m sure you’ve heard it lots of times already.”

Cecillia nodded and offered a polite smile. “Thank you.”

“Anyways, enough of that, you’re going to make me jealous,” she smiled. “I’m Lauren from Lineage Faust, also fr—”

“Let me guess,” Cecillia interrupted. “From Willowmere?”

“That’s right!” Lauren exclaimed. “You’re a smart cookie aren’t you? How’d you know?”

Cecillia looked down at the table while Doran’s ever so tight face softened. The others seemed to understand as well, and their earlier enthusiasm had disappeared.

“This isn’t really a merchant caravan right?”

Her question echoed painfully around the tent. George clenched his fists and Franklin didn’t even comment. The baker was taken aback and she let out a meek sigh. But the one who answered wasn’t any of them.

From the tent’s entrance a woman entered and returned. Her voice was bitter and solemn.

“We aren’t merchants. We’re refugees.”