The sun had almost set when Agnes was slowly strolling along the sand with her faithful fluffy boy Bernie. Being the only healer for Fenris, she was constantly on the hunt for supplies, and after a good storm, you could find quite a bevy of useful things washed ashore if you knew what to look for.

Grumbling to herself about the indignity of having sand in her boots and having to collect kelp and pippie shells to take home and grind into balms and poultices for whatever fool decided to show up at her door broken or burned, she sighed. A healer’s job was never done.

Agnes’s muttering stopped as she noticed Bernie’s nose rise in curiosity, picking up a scent. He ran off, his barking growing more urgent as he neared Sef, who lay motionless on the sand.

With a long, beleaguered sigh, Agnes grumbled, “What blasted idiot needs help now?!” as she hobbled over and struggled to flip the lad over. “Oh, that’s Tilly’s boy, the little storm chaser! Well, let’s see what hair-brained stunt has put him in this mess, shall we, eh Bernie?”

Eyeing him critically and noticing the burn marks that left a hole in the center of his shirt, she gently ripped it open to see the scarring on Sef’s chest. “Hmm, still breathing—that’s a good sign. That scarring is strange, though. Hmm, usually I’d say a lightning strike with all those squiggly burn lines, but it’s only in one spot and hasn’t traveled elsewhere to touch ground like lightning usually likes to do. Hmm, well! Nothing for it, Bernie, let’s see if we can get this fool home and fixed up!”

Agnes had not come prepared with the means to carry unconscious idiots back home, so she set about improvising a simple stretcher. She found a few sturdy branches of driftwood and began tying them together with some old rope from her bag, creating a basic frame. With more cloth and rope, she fashioned a makeshift stretcher/sled, securing Sef onto it and directing Bernie, “Come on, big fella, help me out here,” tying the leading ends to Bernie’s collar in a makeshift harness.

With Bernie pulling the sled and Agnes guiding it, they slowly made their way toward her small hut on the outskirts of the village.

Inside the dimly lit hut, Agnes began tending to Sef. The strange scars and the odd pattern puzzled her. She cleaned his wounds and applied some herbal remedies she had on hand. As she worked, she barked out in her loudest voice through the window, “Peter! PETER!! Where is that useless boy?”

As she worked, her young, inept apprentice arrived at the door, breathless. “Peter!” Agnes exclaimed. “Where have you been? Eh, no matter. I need you to do something for me.”

Peter, nervous and disheveled, stood in the doorway. “Y-yes, Miss Agnes?”

Agnes waved him over with an impatient gesture. “I need you to go find a lady named Tilly. She works at the inn sometimes. This is her boy; he’s been injured. If she’s not there, they’ll know where to find her. Go now!”

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Peter nodded and rushed out the door. Agnes watched him go, shaking her head. “Useless boy,” she muttered under her breath. “At least he’s good for something.”

As Peter hurried through the village, Agnes turned her attention back to Sef. She worked diligently, applying more herbs and checking his vital signs. Her focus was interrupted when Tilly finally arrived, her face a mask of worry.

When Tilly burst into the hut, she saw Sef lying on a cot and hurried to his side. “Sef! What happened to him? Is he okay?”

“I found him on the beach out near the headland after the storm. He’s got some strange burns on his chest, like he was hit by lightning,” Agnes told her with a concerned glance at Sef.

“Lightning?!!” Tilly burst out in fear, gently grabbing her son’s hand.

Placing a hand on her shoulder gently, Agnes whispered, “He’s recovering; he’s stable. I’ve checked his vital signs; he’s going to be okay. Just shaken up, frazzled, and very sore, I’d say. I’m sure he’ll come around in no time.”

Tilly let out a shuddering breath in relief. “Do you mind if I stay with him? I won’t be in your way, will I?”

“Not at all, dear, not at all,” Agnes said, gently patting Tilly’s shoulder. “I know how stressful these situations can be. I’ll just be pottering in the garden. Let me know if you need anything.”

As Sef woke, he felt a big, fat tongue licking up the side of his face. “Ugh, what?” he said, opening his eyes to see a massive shaggy head taking up his field of vision, slobbering all over him. Struggling to lift his hand and pull his head away, he groaned, “Blegh, stop! Ugh.”

“Oi! Bernie, stop harassing the poor boy!” Agnes called through the window, admonishing the big, goofy St. Bernard and coaxing him away from the cot.

The mild commotion woke Tilly from her snooze on a nearby chair, and she rushed over to Sef’s bedside, her face a mix of relief and worry. “You’re awake. I was so scared! Are you in pain?” she asked, wiping the puppy drool from his cheek and looking deeply into his eyes with concern.

Sef nodded weakly, feeling the strange spinning sensation in his chest. “Yeah, I’m okay—definitely sore. I feel… odd and weak. Ugh.”

“You’re lucky Agnes found you when she did. How did this happen? Agnes thinks you’ve been struck by lightning. That’s why you’d feel weak; your muscles have been rather frazzled, I’d say. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“We tried to get a closer look. Arrgh,” Sef groaned, wincing as he struggled to sit up.

“Don’t try to move too much, you fool boy!” Agnes called from the doorway, entering the room. “And what do you mean ‘we’? I only found you on the beach; no one else was to be seen.”

“What do you mean you tried to get closer? I only let you go out there on the condition you would keep yourself dry and safe!” Tilly’s voice rose higher and higher by the end of the sentence.

Sef winced, feeling both the physical pain and the weight of his mother’s ire. “I just… I… I didn’t think it would be so dangerous. I wanted to see the storm!”

As Sef tried to explain, Agnes listened carefully. “What exactly happened, boy?” she asked in a gruff but curious tone.

“We went out in the kayak,” Sef began. “I was with Leya, a girl I’d just met. We were trying to get closer to the storm, but it got out of hand. There were twisters and… I don’t know. It was all crazy. I think Leya got thrown off the kayak! And I was… there was a big flash… I think?… I passed out… I remember waking up on the sand for a second, too, but… ugh, it’s all so hazy.” Sef’s retelling drifted off as his eyes widened. “Shit! Leya!! We need to find her! How long have I been out? Shit, shit, shit!”

“Calm yourself, boy! You’re in no state to go getting yourself worked up!” Gently pushing Sef back down to the bed, Agnes said, “I’ve already sent my apprentice Peter to the town hall. He will let them know.”

Turning to Tilly, Agnes said, “But now that he seems stable enough, I’ll go see what they’re going to do about a search party and such personally. I'll let you know how that goes. You just rest here with your boy.”

As night fell, the hut was filled with the soft sounds of Bernie’s snoring and Tilly’s quiet reassurances. The calm after the storm seemed almost surreal compared to the turmoil inside the hut. With Sef’s condition both mysterious and precarious, and their growing anxiety over Leya’s fate, the uncertainty of what lay ahead was evident. For now, Sef was safe at least, but the worry cast a shadow of doubt over the small hut, leaving everyone anxious for the news to come.