Iris sat in the waiting room of a small clinic -- which was really just the living room of Mrs. Rousey's home, the two spare bedrooms being the actual clinic rooms. A young boy and his mother came down the hall, trailed by Mrs. Rousey, who was giving them instructions for taking the medicine she placed in the mother's hand.
"And remember," she said, as she showed them out the door, "don't eat anymore weird flowers without showing them to me first. I know everything that grows in this valley."
The son looked annoyed and the mother embarrassed as she graciously thanked Mrs. Rousey and hurried her son outside. Muffled scolding from outside could be heard as soon as the door latched closed.
"Iris!" Mrs. Rousey exclaimed as she turned back from the door and noticed her sitting there, "it's been so long! I didn't hear you come in," she paused as she got a better look at her, "and what in this great world happened to you, young lady? Have you been getting into fights?"
"No ma'am," Iris said sheepishly, "I was just helping some people today and had a few accidents."
"A few accidents?" Mrs. Rousey said incredulously, then shook her head, "you always were a risk taker."
Iris started to object, then thought about it for a moment, "wait, was I?"
Mrs. Rousey laughed, waving her towards the hallway and leading her into one of the clinic rooms, "I remember that time you tried to fight Ol' Henkin's hog because you thought it ate another girl's toy. What were you, seven?"
"Oh yeah, I think I was eight." Iris said as she thought back, "and Barrel did eat Ada's toy. I know he did," she added firmly.
Mrs. Rousey didn't argue, instead she continued recounting stories of Iris's previous visits to her clinic as she inspected her current wounds. She sometimes interrupted herself to exclaim how it looked like Iris had slid down the side of a mountain, or slammed her face into the wheel of a cart, but she graciously avoided asking her any direct questions about what happened. That was always her policy, patients only had to tell her what she needed to know in order to treat them and nothing more. However, she had no qualms about making her curiosity known.
After nearly an hour, Iris's back was smeared with ointment and patched with a dozen small bandages, parts of her head were covered in a strange jelly that felt cold to the touch and a bandage was wrapped around her head like a bandana to cover it. She internally groaned at the thought of cleaning the jelly out of her hair later, but would make that trade if it would keep the swelling down.
Iris sat on the bed as Mrs. Rousey cleaned her hands in a basin across the room. She stretched her muscles and rolled her joints as much as she could to work out the tension, but the aches and pains all over her body would turn into sharp, overwhelming pain if she moved too quickly or in the wrong way. After Mrs. Rousey dried her hands, she took a few pieces of some kind of candy from a drawer and handed them to Iris, "when the pain gets too bad, suck on one of these until it dissolves. Wait at least two hours between each candy though."
Iris's eyes lit up at the sight of the candies. She remembered them from when she was a kid, they tasted like strawberries and the medicine taste was barely even noticeable. She chuckled to herself as she remembered the time she ate five of them back to back and had to come back to get treated for the nausea.
Sometime later, Iris’s was sitting at the dining table as Mrs. Rousey brewed a concoction of medicinal teas.
"So," Mrs. Rousey said, her back to Iris as she cleaned the cutting board where she had chopped some of the ingredients for the tea, "are you going to tell me what actually happened today?"
Iris stayed quiet.
"That's alright," she said, putting down the rag and turning to face her, "just promise me you're being safe out there, alright?"
Iris winced, recalling her earliest memories of making that promise every time she left the house.
"Been a while since you promised that to someone, hasn't it?" Mrs. Rousey asked, solemnly.
"Yeah," Iris whispered.
"Well, you've got to promise someone," she said, "it doesn't have to be me, at least go see her and promise it to her again, if nothing else. I'm sure she would love to hear it."
Iris looked down at the floor in silence, lost in thought for some time. She looked up suddenly when the tea kettle screamed. Mrs. Rousey quickly pulled the kettle off the flame and filled a mug with the fresh, steaming tea.
"Here, drink this while it's still hot. It won't burn you, I promise."
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
Iris took the mug and gave her a concerned look, but sipped the tea without argument. To her surprise, it really didn't burn, even as the steam billowing from the mug washed over her face. It tasted like mint and cinnamon mixed with a healthy amount of dirt, and Iris' face contorted to match. Mrs. Rousey pulled a glass bottle from a cabinet, filled it with the remainder of the tea, and then stopped it with a cork and set it on the table beside Iris.
"You know she always knew your fingers were crossed?" Mrs. Rousey asked.
"She did?" Iris asked quickly, the fear of a child caught in the act flashing across her face.
"Yep, and after you ran off she'd always complain that you were just like her."
Iris smiled proudly.
"You can take the bandages off in the morning," Mrs. Rousey said, "the bruises will linger but the ointment should close up the cuts and scrapes overnight, and the swelling on your head should subside by then. Take this tea with you and drink half before bed and half in the morning, it'll heal you just as good cold but it'll taste even worse if you don't heat it up."
"Thank you," Iris said, standing to hug Mrs. Rousey.
"Any time, dear," Mrs. Rousey held on to Iris's shoulders as she pulled away from the hug, "Mary was the best friend I've ever had, my door will always be open for you."
Iris nodded quietly.
"Oh, speaking of your mother," Mrs. Rousey said, "I reckon it's time that I give you something."
Iris looked up in curious surprise.
"I thought you'd be a little bit older," Mrs. Rousey said, leading Iris down the hall and into her bedroom, where she unlocked a cabinet on a large vanity and retrieved a small, leather bound book, "I should have known better, your mother started at eighteen too."
Iris was frozen in place, her heart racing and her eyes locked on the book.
"Breathe, child," Mrs. Rousey smiled, holding the book out for Iris.
Iris released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding as she took the book in her hands.
"I don't know how she knew," Mrs. Rousey said, her eyes lost in old memories, "but your mother always said power comes to those who are meant to have it. She left this to me, with instructions to pass it on when power came to you."
"I don't--" she choked, "I don't understand."
Mrs. Rousey smiled, "it's the bag," she nodded at the drawstring bag tied to Iris' belt, "I don't know what that thing is, but it's not from this realm. You’ve gone and really gotten yourself into something this time, dear."
Mrs. Rousey was always a woman of secrets. Though she appeared to be a simple herbalist in quaint old village, Iris knew she had only moved here shortly before Iris was born, and that she had known her mother in whatever life they both lived before coming here. Neither Mrs. Rousey nor her mother had ever answered her questions about that time, and as she grew older she learned not to ask at all. It was unexpected that Mrs. Rousey could sense something about the bag that Iris could not, but it wasn't wholly surprising.
"As for how your mother knew this would happen one day," Mrs. Rousey continued, "all I know is that when that woman said something was true, it either was or would come to be. Annoyed the crap out of me."
The two laughed together for a moment, then Iris looked back at the book in her hands.
"You know what that is, right?" Mrs. Rousey asked.
"It's my mother's adventure journal," Iris said wistfully.
"Indeed. Have any of those magazines you read taught you how to use one?"
"Yes, sort of," Iris nodded, still staring at the journal, "I never knew you had this. I thought it was lost when she--" Iris stopped.
"She left it with me a few weeks before she passed," Mrs. Rousey said sadly, "it didn't make sense to me at the time, but I had long since grown used to Mary knowing things no one else did."
The bell above the front door rang from down the hall.
"Sounds like it's time for me to get back to work," Mrs. Rousey sighed, before repeating the same words she had always said to Iris as a kid "you run along now, Iris."
"Wait--" Iris said hurriedly, then paused, "I have so many questions."
"So do I," Mrs. Rousey chuckled, "I want to know everything, but something tells me there's more adventure waiting for you out there than even you could ever dream of. Best not keep it waiting."
----------------------------------------
The sun was getting low in the sky, and would soon dip behind the mountains. Iris had abandoned her plans for the night, deciding to pick up where she left off in the morning. For now, she sat cross-legged in front of her mother's grave. It was a simple headstone, square on the sides and rounded in an arc at the top. The engraving read "Mary Orion 950 - 986. May adventure await in her beyond." She held her mother's journal close to her chest as tears trickled down her cheeks.
She looked down at the book in her hands, taking in the sight as she steeled herself to finally open it. The first page read "Property of Mary Orion. If you've found this journal, then you are meant to have it. Safe travels and love." Hand drawn hearts surrounded the text.
After a few blank pages, the journal began. Large portions on each page were just jumbled lines, like someone had chopped up the letters and scattered the pieces. Iris knew this would be the case, as with any adventure journal separated from its adventurer. Only the first two pages of writing had any legible text at all, each a single paragraph. The first was a short paragraph serving as the first entry of the journal, detailing how Mary had gained her first Thread of Power.
Iris had never known anything about her mother's life as an adventurer, only that she had been one before Iris was born. She was shocked to read that her mother had found her first Thread of Power in much the same way as Iris, by total happenstance while out in the woods. Though the details of why her mother had been in the woods at the time were left out, the way it was written indicated they weren't the happiest of reasons. Her first thread had been the Thread of Time, which shocked Iris even further. The Thread of Time was extremely rare, and known to be quite powerful.
The next block of legible text was on the second page, and -- to Iris' amazement -- was addressed to her.
Dear Iris,
I do not know who you are yet. I do not even know how I know what little I do. I know the time will come when I will be gone, and this book will be yours. I know you will have a heart like mine, and you will finish the work that I have yet to even start. Finally, I know power comes to those who are meant to have it.
Travel safely,
- Mary Orion, 968
The last rays of sunlight blinked out as the edge of the sun sank behind the mountains, leaving Iris alone in the twilight.
"I promise I'll be safe," she whispered, her fingers crossed behind her back.