Margaret tried not to let the suspicious backward glances unnerve her. She kept her gaze fixed ahead, her hand resting protectively on Asha's shoulder as the little girl gawked openly at the sights around them.

Despite her lingering illness, Asha seemed to perk up as soon as they entered the village proper. She twisted this way and that, eyes wide with delight as she took in the ramshackle thatch-roofed cottages, the hanging baskets overflowing with vibrant blooms, and the bizarre array of residents going about their day.

A grizzled dwarven smith in leather apron fanned his bellows by the town forge, gifting them a sidelong look through narrowed eyes. Two whipcord-lean hunters in buckskin brushed past carrying bows and fresh kills, giving the strangers a wide berth. A trio of green-skinned goblins chittered and scattered out of their path, ducking into a gnarled hollowed-out tree serving as a ramshackle tenement.

For her part, Margaret could only gape in mute astonishment at the authentic fantasy folk around her. She had read tales of dwarves, sprites, goblins and more since childhood, but seeing them brought so vividly to life felt utterly surreal. An entire world of myth and legend existing alongside plain human townsfolk.

As if sensing her discomfort and awe, Mistral rumbled comfortingly, swinging his shaggy head around to regard her with pale blue eyes. The dire wolf’s steady, grounding presence helped Margaret regain her bearings somewhat.

A dog was a dog, no matter how big and deadly it may look, I guess.

They finally halted before one of the sturdier timber structures near the heart of the village, a cresset burning merrily over the carved lintel. Below hung a faded wooden sign whose runic symbols were indecipherable to Margaret.

"Here is where the village's healer resides," Aaron announced, turning to regard Margaret with a reassuring look. "I'd feel better having her take a look at Asha, make sure her recovery remains on course after all you've been through."

Margaret nodded slowly, suspicion warring with relief at the prospect of a second opinion on her daughter's condition. She moved to help Asha dismount as Aaron moved to knock upon the stout ironbound door.

"Thank you. I'd appreciate anything that could shine some light on...whatever is happening with my daughter," Margaret murmured, unable to keep the worry from her tone.

The smile Aaron flashed her was reassuring. "Have faith, my lady. If anyone can provide answers, it'll be the healer. She's well-versed in matters both mundane and..." He paused significantly. "Otherworldly."

“"Wait, what's that supposed to -" Margaret began, catching the implication in Aaron's cryptic words but she was interrupted by a cranky voice barking from behind the door.

"I'm coming, hold your horses! I'd half a mind to just close up shop for today."

The door burst open to reveal a cantankerous old woman with large gossamer wings and pointed ears just like Aaron's, though hers were a bit shorter. She glared at them with fierce green eyes.

"Good noon, Doctor Tory," Aaron said respectfully.

The fairy-like woman sized him up, her scowl softening slightly though the glare remained. "Ah, paladin. Back so soon? I was wondering what trouble you got up to these past few days."

Aaron gave her a rueful smile. "Nothing I couldn't handle, though these two could use your help."

He gestured to Margaret and Asha. Doctor Tory's eyes narrowed as she appraised them critically.

"Humans, eh? Well, what's a few more patients I suppose. Come, come! It won't do either of us any good letting the chill catch with the rest."

She ushered them inside, the old wooden floorboards creaking underfoot as they entered the cramped clinic. The pungent smell of soap and medicinal herbs hung thick in the air. Margaret looked around in surprise at the numerous patients lying on cots or propped against the walls - humans, dwarves, halflings and more.

"You've got your hands quite full, it seems," Margaret commented.

Doctor Tory snorted. "You don't say, girl? I've been up to my head trying to care for these fools laid up with winter sickness. Nearly ran out of healing herbs and tonics!" She shook her head. "My assistant is still out trying to gather more supplies from Crestwood Grove."

“I was wondering where Sylvia was.” Aaron wondered offhandedly.

The doctor waved a dismissive hand as she began clearing a space for Margaret and Asha. “Yes, yes, that sprightly thing is made of stronger stuff than she lets on. Now let's have a look at you two..."

Doctor Tory wasted no time in her examination of Asha. She gently took the little girl's face in her gnarled hands, peering intently into her eyes and feeling her brow.

"Hmm...glassy eyes, flushed skin," she muttered to herself. Pulling a battered leather pouch from her apron, she sprinkled some pungent crushed leaves onto her palm and wafted them under Asha's nose.

"How's your sense of smell, poppet?"

Asha scrunched her nose at the bitter aroma. "It smells funny..."

"Good, good," Tory nodded in satisfaction. She then retrieved a slender wooden rod about a foot long, grasping it firmly as she closed her eyes and began murmuring an archaic invocation under her breath.

As the strange words washed over them, Margaret saw faint glimmers of light begin to coalesce around the tip of the rod. The motes intensified into a soft azure glow as Tory continued her mystic chanting.

When she finished, the doctor opened her eyes and passed the glowing rod over Asha's body in a slow, sweeping arc. Margaret watched in amazement as the light seemed to bend and refract wherever it passed over her daughter, almost like it was scanning her.

Finally, Tory grunted and set the rod aside, the glow winking out. She turned to the woodstove crackling in the corner and began measuring herbs, powders, and liquid tinctures from various jars into a battered iron pot.

As the brew thickened over the flames, Tory retrieved a marble pestle and mortar, chanting once more as she ground the concoction into a potent smelling paste. Flashes of verdant light sparked between the stone implements in time with her words of power.

At last, the doctor seemed satisfied. She ladled some of the thick, viscous mixture into a wooden cup and pressed it into Asha's hands.

"Drink it all up, love. It'll help rebuild your strength."

Asha made a face at the bitter, grassy smell but obediently took a sip. Her eyes widened in surprise and she quickly gulped the rest down.

"It tastes like mint and honey!" she exclaimed in delight.

Tory chuckled at Margaret's stunned expression. "Just a wee bit of magic to improve the flavor." She turned a gimlet eye on the young mother. "From what I can tell, your girl is on the mend from a nasty winter cough. Plenty of rest, warmth and mugs of that tonic should see her right as rain in a week or two."

Margaret couldn't quite hide her skepticism, thinking of the strange circumstances surrounding Asha's initial illness. Still, she forced a grateful smile.

Stolen novel; please report.

"Thank you for your care and expertise, Ma’am. But...is there any way we can repay you?"

She glanced uncertainly at Aaron, realizing they had nothing of value to barter with. To her surprise, the elf simply met her gaze and gave a subtle nod. “Well, with the circumstances this winter, a few donations would be much appreciated. But I’m not going to force you if you don’t have anything.”

Taking that as permission, Margaret reached into her tattered pack and carefully withdrew the various items she had taken from the ruined temple. Including the trinket. Even wrapped in her old shirt, it seemed to thrum with a faint inner power. She hesitated to give it up, it was the only thing she had to answers.

With a trembling hand she put the wrapped trinket back into her bag for another time. When the dust was clear and they had a place to call home. For now, they needed to survive. And these people will only know what they need to know for them to stay as long as they can.

She laid out the other items instead, various items from the temple she had taken in a hurry. Some were things that were already in the pack she forgot to take out.

"Would...would these suffice as payment?" she asked hesitantly, offering them to the fairy doctor. "They're all I have of value, I'm afraid."

Tory's eyes widened at the sight of the idols, shooting Aaron an incredulous look. The elf simply regarded her steadily, seemingly unsurprised by Margaret's treasures. After a moment's pause, the healer nodded slowly.

"Aye...those would more than cover any debt to me. Very generous of you."

Taking the bundled artifacts, Tory moved to her workbench and began preparing a packet of herbal remedies. Over her shoulder, she issued terse instructions for dosages and applications.

Once that was settled, Margaret couldn't help but wonder what was so special about those dusty old idols. But she got the sense there were greater forces and mysteries at work here beyond her understanding.

For now, she would simply be grateful for the care and sanctuary this place offered. Gratitude...and perhaps just a flicker of newfound hope as she watched Asha's energy visibly returning with each passing minute.

Doctor Tory wasted no time the moment the door to her back office was shut. Rounding on Aaron, she slammed the bundle containing the artifacts onto her desk with a resounding thump.

"What. Is. This?" she hissed, fury blazing in her green eyes.

Aaron regarded the cloth-wrapped relics calmly before replying in an even tone. "I don't know for certain."

"You don't know?" Tory sputtered, seeming seconds away from exploding. "What do you mean you don't bloody know?"

The elf held up a placating hand. "What I do know is that the woman and child were in dire need of aid. I vowed to guide them here for shelter."

The doctor opened her mouth, no doubt to let loose a furious tirade, but seemed to think better of it. Her shoulders slumped as she exhaled a frustrated sigh, fists clenching at her sides.

"Fine. Fine..." she ground out through gritted teeth. Sinking into a spindly chair, she lifted the bundled artifacts with surprising gentleness, regarding them with a mixture of sorrow and confusion.

Fairies like herself lived extraordinarily long lives - long enough to remember what sort of power these idols may represent, and who they may have once belonged to. Just like Aaron.

"Where on earth did you even find them?" she asked at last in a hushed tone, unable to tear her eyes away.

"The ruins of Thornhill," Aaron replied solemnly. "The woman...Margaret…perhaps she procured them from there."

Tory's head whipped up, eyes blazing once more. "What in the seven hells were they doing over there? That town was razed to ashes decades ago by demons!"

A slight crease furrowed Aaron's brow. "Finding a new home to call their own from the looks of it. They've been wandering the wilds for quite some time but are...reluctant to divulge more."

"Demons perhaps, masquerading as human?" Tory posited darkly, rising to resume her agitated pacing. "No ordinary family would be roaming those demonic ruins. And these artifacts appear remarkably well-preserved..."

"It's possible," Aaron admitted. "The girl, Asha, does seem to possess some...unique abilities that defy explanation. Though she could simply harbor an innate affinity for magic."

He met Tory's gaze levelly. "Truthfully, I was hoping you could help me better discern the nature of their circumstances. These relics may hold some clue."

The doctor worried her lip, looking distinctly unsettled by the implications as she gingerly cradled one of the artifacts. After a moment's contemplation, she gave a curt nod.

"We need to consult with the town cleric. At once. If these really are what I suspect..." She trailed off ominously, leaving the rest unspoken.

Aaron simply inclined his head in agreement before leading the way back out of the office.

"Is everything all right?" Margaret Asked with a frown as they reemerged, clearly picking up on the tension. Asha peered up at them curiously from her cot.

"My apologies, I was explaining your...living situation to the good doctor," Aaron said smoothly. "Unfortunately, there isn't enough space in our shelters to house you both for the time being. You have my sincere regrets."

Margaret looked crestfallen until Tory cleared her throat meaningfully.

"Those artifacts you me, however, will fetch a high enough price to afford a few days' stay at one of the village inns," the healer said in a tone of forced lightness. "More than enough to see your little one's recovery through to the end."

As if on cue, Aaron unhooked a weighty coin purse from his belt and pressed it into Margaret's hands. The young mother could only gape at the unexpected payment, tempted to protest before thinking better of it at the elf's meaningful look.

"Thank you..." she said instead with palpable gratitude. "You've already done so much for us. We're in your debt."

Aaron's smile was warm but tight around the edges. "Think nothing of it. Now, shall we find you suitable accommodation? I'd prefer to get you both settled before nightfall."

Margaret nodded enthusiastically, thanking the doctor once again with Asha before they set off. Unknown to both of them the Doctor’s face was tight and uncriticizable as she watched the two leave.

"This is one of the largest inns in town," Aaron said as they approached a sturdy two-story timber structure. Lively sounds of raucous laughter, clinking tankards and the occasional bar fight spilled out through the open doors.

As they entered the dimly lit, smoke-hazed common room, Margaret couldn't help but gape at the eccentric clientele crowding the worn wooden tables and benches. Humans, dwarves, halflings and even a trio of dog-faced gnolls gambled noisily over mugs of frothy ale. A pair of scarred half-orc mercenaries nursed their drinks in one corner, throwing the newcomers suspicious glares.

They made their way to the bar counter where a stout, ruddy-faced dwarven woman was industriously polishing a rack of clean tankards. Two other dwarves - presumably her kin from their alike ginger braids and bushy beards - manned the other stations. One served drinks while the other appeared to be tallying the night's receipts.

"What'll it be, folks?" the barkeep asked gruffly, barely looking up from her work. "We got communal rooms for five crowns a night, single beds at ten crowns, and the stables if you're slummin' it for two crowns a day."

Margaret felt Aaron squeeze her elbow reassuringly. "We'll take a private room, if you please," the elf said, pushing the coin purse across the chipped counter top.

The dwarf female grunted in acknowledgment, scooping up a handful of gold pieces before gesturing for her bookkeeper brother to fetch down a key from the pegboard behind him. As he did so, the other brother - perhaps the eldest by his weathered features - sidled over with a tray of drinks in his gnarled hands.

"The breakfast is free for guests. But drinks'll cost ya extra," he said by way of greeting, eyeing Margaret and Asha shrewdly before settling his gaze on Aaron. "Got a nice nutbrown ale on the tap, or mebbe a spot o'mulled wine fer the little'un?"

“Is this legal?” Asha blurted out innocently.

"Just water for us, thanks all the same," Aaron replied politely.

The dwarves exchanged a look at that, one bushy brow arching quizzically, but shrugged it off with seeming nonchalance. The eldest turned his attention to Margaret and stuck out a burly hand.

"Name's Gunnar Guldan, simply Gun'll do. This here's th'Frolicking Aleator, been run by my clan fer nigh on fifty years now."

Before they could reply, his brash sister slapped a key into Margaret's hand with a flourish.

"Room's all yours for as long as that coin lasts. Oh - an' don't go raising no unholy ruckus. We get enough o' that shite 'round here's it is."

Margaret hastily assured her they'd be no trouble before allowing Aaron to guide them away towards the staircase at the back, leaving the rowdy common room behind.

The room they were ushered into was small but cozy, with a hulking wooden bed frame and crackling stove providing comforting warmth. Margaret sank onto the featherbed with a relieved sigh, feeling the weariness of the road in her very bones. Before she knew it, Asha was curling up beside her, nestling against her mother's side with a contented murmur.

Meeting Aaron's gaze as he stoked the fire, Margaret managed a tremulous smile.

"Thank you, again, for getting us here safely," she said softly. "I'm still grappling with this all being real. But for the first time in longer than I can remember...I feel like we might have finally found somewhere to call home."

The elf inclined his head solemnly. "I pray you find the haven you seek here, my lady. But perhaps that is a conversation best saved for the morrow, after you've rested."

Margaret could only nod gratefully, already tugged under by the lure of slumber as Asha shifted beside her. As her heavy eyelids slipped shut, her last fleeting thought was that she would never take such simple pleasures for granted again.

For tonight at least, they were safe, sheltered and warm. Whatever otherworldly secrets the future might yet hold, that was enough.