“Prove it to us,” the druid said. “Prove to us that your cure works the way you say it does.” A stern, bespectacled man sat opposite of me. Pensively, he tapped the table. “I struggle to believe that Fals is dead. Such a young, kindred spirit. That much, I can understand. However, that our Goddess would inhabit her body? Using poisonous mushrooms as food? How do you expect us to believe this?”

I point at the glass bottle on the desk. “The mushroom is only poisonous if one doesn’t consume its honey. The fungal honey breaks down the poison. On its own, it’s also very nutritious.” To exemplify my point, I fetch a small beetle from my pouch. “These little ones thrive within the mushroom fields. If they can survive, so can we.” I let it crawl over my glove shortly, before crushing it between my fingers. The druid looks on in shock, then sighs.

“Would Lady Coedraig truly...” Flicking his gaze between Madarchen and I, he rests his eyes on me again. “Would she truly command us to eat bugs and fungus? She was so benevolent, granting us her fruits and her protection.”

Madarchen takes the lead for this one, surprisingly. “Times have changed, elder. Our supplies have run so low. Our hunters keep being injured, and our forests have dried up. What choice do we have but believe her? I’ve followed her example for the past week, and she hasn’t lied. The fungal honey cured me of my pains, eased my sorrows, and kept me well-fed. Besides…” She shifts uncomfortably. Twiddling her thumbs, she looks at me again. “Fals died for us, Elder. Her prayers must’ve been answered. We shouldn't…"

A rough, growling voice interrupts her speech. “If you ask me, elder, they’re lying. Lady Coedraig would never be so cruel as to crush an innocent life in front of us. The fact she claims to be a protector of the forest while killing its inhabitants sickens me. That’s a witch, real and true, come to pillage our village.”

I respond to the taunt: “With all due respect, Captain Leonard, but whatever assumptions you’ve made about me don’t apply here. Your religious inferences and prayers aren’t always in line with your God’s intentions. It’s just what you want to believe.” Leonard bites his lower lip and crosses his arms. With a frustrated grunt, he turns away from me.

“Vile wench,” he whispers under his breath.

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The druid in front of us turns to face the captain. “Captain Leonard, you will show due respect to the Lady. Whether or not she is truly Coedraig, the least we can do is show her some courtesy for her attempt to resolve our famine. Do not drop the brand of witch on someone at random. You’ve done this before, and it didn’t turn out well then either.”

Leonard places his right hand on the hilt of his sheathed blade. “It is clear as day that you are all charmed by her appearance. You cannot recognise the adder in the grass. Goddesses do not possess corpses, nor do they offer their faithful to eat poisonous substances. We ought to cut the head off the snake before it bares its fangs.”

“Enough! Enough of this, Leonard. I will not have you threaten me of all people. Get out of here. We’ll speak this through later. Alone.” Angrily, he points towards the open door behind the two of us.

The captain grunts. “Fine.” He doesn’t hesitate to exit the room, slamming the door shut behind him. His loud, metallic footsteps can be heard echoing through the building for a while, until another door slams and we find ourselves in an uncomfortable silence.

“My apologies for the captain’s behavior, he’s rather -”

I interrupt him. “It’s fine, elder. Anyone would be sensitive with the supposed visage of their goddess sitting in front of him. I expected the tension.” I show a faux smile, which seems to ease his spirits a little. Madarchen places a hand on my shoulder, and picks up where we left off.

“Elder, I assure you. I’ve eaten and drank from the mushrooms for a week now, and I’ve never felt better. I’m sure Fals wouldn’t allow her body to be used for such nefarious purposes.”

Fals. In the back of my mind, I feel a slight pull again. She’s still kicking around, somewhere in there. The mere mention of her is enough to activate her brain, sometimes. Other times, it’s in proximity to Madarchen. Maybe she’s afraid. Maybe jealous, or spiteful. It’s hard to tell, sometimes. It distracts me from the topic at hand, briefly. I space out a little.

“The least I can do is try the potion. We had some visitors here… from a different village. They were ailing, and needed medicine their village couldn’t provide. Maybe… this can work.” The druid furrows his brow. “Although I can’t say I feel too good about providing medicine to someone that I’ve never tested myself.” He pulls the cork from the glass bottle, and briefly sniffs the fungal honey.

“It’s sweet,” he says. “Very, very sweet. Enchantingly so.” He takes a small sip from it, then plugs the cork back. “Yes, fine. We will experiment with using the fungus as food. Not like we have any other options anyway.”