Kalen, Layla, and Ayana left from the tavern which had closed since Breila, who was the tavern’s owner and innkeeper, had fallen ill.

For the first time Kalen was able to understand just what kind of place he and Layla had arrived in.

“Our village is called Yurth, meaning ‘of the earth’, or earthen.”

Ayana explained as she walked the both of them to her abode. Layla was still head-deep in the slice of her melon, so only Kalen was paying attention.

Yet his gaze still lingered on the rest of the village as they walked through it. Occasionally he could catch glimpses of the people who lived there, but there weren’t very many people outside and milling about. This struck him as strange, but must either mean that Yurth didn’t follow the same agricultural timetable of Willowhearth, or there weren’t as many people in Yurth who worked in the fields.

But Kalen’s attention was once again drawn to Ayana’s words as she continued to explain the name of the village.

“The name actually makes sense because our village is ruled over by the church instead of the nearby lords or noble houses. Our ruling church is, as you can imagine from our name, the Church of Vermeil.”

Kalen’s brow arched. Despite the sense of guilt that had begun to form as he started to suspect Breila’s illness was his own doing, the topic of the conversation was still curious, and he needed something to distract him.

The boy had never stepped foot out of Willowhearth, let alone the surrounding Moonlit forest. Although he knew of the existence of other villages, he had never known of an actual example like Yurth.

He knew even less of the concept of churches, only understanding the bare minimum of their connection with religions. Willowhearth had had no such thing, after all. Though they worshiped, they did it in private, unorganized.

He didn’t understand what Ayana was getting at.

“What do you mean by that?”

Kalen spoke in sincere curiosity.

‘From what I know of churches, Vermeil is probably the name of their god, so it would probably be rude to ask who that is.’

Yet despite his sincerity, Ayana gave him a weird look.

“Have you never heard of the seven?”

Ayana looked incredulous. Instead of answering, Kalen’s brows just stayed raised. The girl shook her head.

“Whatever. Your village, Willowhearth, must have been really secluded, huh?”

Kalen nodded. During their talk before, Kalen had told her a little bit about himself, so her knowledge of Willowhearth was a given.

The girl shook her head again as the three of them crossed the threshold of the cottage’s interior. They had arrived at Breila and Ayana’s home.

“Alright, she’s just past this door.”

Ayana held onto the handle to a door in the hallway. Kalen stood in front of it, after asking Layla to sit outside in the cottage’s main room with her slice of melon.

Kalen gulped as Ayana pushed the door open. He followed behind as Ayana led the way into the room, stopping at the bedside of Breila.

Kalen noticed that the mother bore the same brown hair as Ayana, and everyone else in the village. It was just a shade lighter than the common hair color shared in Willowhearth. If Kalen weren’t searching Breila’s body for clues that his curse had affected her, he would’ve felt out of place yet again.

“Mom…are you awake?”

Ayana knelt down next to her mother’s side and whispered.

Both of them watched as the eyelids of Breila suddenly started to flutter.

The older woman’s light brown eyes glanced over them both. Despite expectation, her first words were spoken to Kalen.

“Your head looks better, boy.”

Her eyes adjusted to the light inside the room, allowing her to see the cloth wrappings that had been wound around Kalen’s head, above his eyes and around the area close to his right ear.

Kalen brought his hand up to the wound beneath the cloth for a moment. He had forgotten it was there, he realized in surprise. The walk from the tavern to the cottage had kept his mind from thinking about the pain in the background of his mind.

Kalen made a small bow.

“Thank you for treating me. I can’t express how grateful I am that you and Ayana took us in when we came out of the woods injured.”

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Breila did a soft nod.

“It was no issue. I can’t imagine what kind of tavern I’d be running if I fell into the red from a couple of kids.”

Breila’s laugh turned into a hacky cough.

“Even if that’s the case, I want to thank you. My sister is very important to me, and I can see she very much enjoys life here in Yurth thanks to you and Ayana.”

Kalen added.

“Hmm, well. I’d like to know more about your circumstances, but that can wait. Ayana, how is the girl anyway?”

Ayana motioned her hand to beyond the room’s door.

“She’s sitting outside with a slice of melon that we had spare at the tavern. Do you want to see her?”

The woman shook her head.

“No, it’s just enough to know she’s recovered. Is that all you came here for today?”

Breila looked at the two. Ayana nodded.

Kalen shifted. In his mind he was uncertain. As he looked over the still body of Breila, he wasn’t sure whether or not her illness had been caused by him.

His suspicion was that Breila, who had been the one to dress his wounds and attend to his needs for water and food while he was recovering, would’ve been in contact with his skin for long enough to receive harmful effects.

Yet in the handful of past cases in Willowhearth, those who touched Kalen after his curse started to manifest, there were more visible symptoms. But Breila didn’t seem as negatively affected as he had anticipated.

‘Most of the symptoms seem right, except for the cough. That’s worrying.’

Kalen was still unsure.

Normally, when he was in extended physical contact with someone, they began to feel worse and worse until they fell out of commission. Yet no one had ever displayed symptoms like an actual disease.

His curse seemed to work in less obvious ways than that, for better or worse.

So while Kalen heavily suspected Breila’s suffering was his fault, he couldn’t be sure. The last time his curse had harmed someone had been in his youth, only shortly after Kalen had discovered his condition.

All of the cases in which he had harmed others had been involuntary, as Kalen had never wanted to harm anyone, but they had still raised fear in his village.

In addition, Kalen and his mother knew that his curse had been growing stronger as he aged. A few years ago Kalen had started to wear full body coverings in order to avoid touching any grain or village harvest, as his contact would wither it immediately.

Such was the purpose of the gloves and full coat that Kalen had worn before his escape from the village.

The point was that Kalen knew little about his curse. For all he could guess, the coughs of Breila might be a new addition to the symptoms of the curse.

Kalen decided he better just ask. The mind of a fourteen-year-old was an anxious and volatile thing, yet Kalen still had some instinct of self-preservation. There was no reason to tell this village of his affliction if they didn’t already suspect him and he hadn’t caused any harm yet.

After waking up, Kalen had made sure to steer clear of physical contact with others for a multitude of reasons, especially Ayana, since Layla already knew in some innocent sense that Kalen didn’t like to be touched.

So long as Breila was fine, there wouldn’t be anyone else that was affected.

Kalen had ensured as much both because he didn’t want to harm others, and because he didn’t want pursuit from another party during his upcoming journey.

Kalen had already made up his mind along the walk through Yurth, that if there weren’t any problems, he would leave Layla here and go south, back to Willowhearth to search for his mother.

“Ms. Breila, how long ago did you start to feel ill?”

Kalen asked.

The mother of Ayana’s eyes rocked left to right as she thought of the answer. It was not suspicious for someone who was grateful to another to be concerned for their health, so she answered quickly and without much thought.

“Perhaps on the third day since you arrived, Ab Eid, did I first start to feel sick enough to lie down.”

Breila answered. But seeing the look in Kalen’s eyes she clarified.

“But don’t you start feeling sorry for me, boy. I’ve been around long enough to get used to the seasonal cold. Give it a day or two more, and I’ll be on my feet.”

Breila’s voice of confirmation felt like a warm blanket to Kalen.

“Seasonal cold?”

“It’s a yearly sickness that comes to the village. Most people get it during Resolve or the Hollow Months, but it's not too out of the ordinary that mom should get it now.”

Ayana explained.

“I’ve always been ahead of the curve, after all.”

Breila laughed weakly. Yet to Kalen, it felt as if the laugh was filled with an intense vigor.

‘So, it’s not my fault? The curse didn’t affect Ayana’s mother?’

Kalen felt like laughing too, but of course it would be inappropriate to express his joy at the apparent sickness of one of his saviors.

Instead, he merely nodded.

“I’m glad that it’s not something more serious. I hope you recover fast then.”

Breila thanked him, and as Ayana and Kalen got up to leave, the woman said something else to her daughter.

“Also, Ayana, see if you can put the boy to work around the tavern. That wound on his head is vicious, and will take at least a few weeks to heal. In the meantime, a sense of normalcy will do him some good.”

Ayana nodded. She must have told her mother about Kalen’s brief hallucination, he thought.

“Okay, let’s get your sister and return to work!”

“Sounds like a plan.”

With a weight off his chest, Kalen responded merrily in the affirmative.

Though he wanted to get back to Willowhearth right now, he wasn’t a complete idiot. If nothing else, Marshall had taught him about the importance of self preservation. He knew that between his ribs and head, and the myriad other small scraps he had on his body from the night of escape, that he would likely die from infection if he were to leave Yurth now.

Plus he owed it to Layla to let her see a little bit more of her big brother before he left. A few weeks giving back to the people who helped nurse him back from death would shave no skin off his back.