Yuki woke to the sound of voices outside her shop.

For a moment, she lay still in Milda's old bed, hoping it was just a lingering dream from her world. Maybe she'd fallen asleep during her break at the pharmacy, and the voices were just customers waiting for their prescriptions.

"There are fourteen people outside," Fenrir announced, jumping onto the foot of her bed. "I counted. One of them has a chicken in a basket. It smells delicious."

So much for that hope. Yuki groaned and pulled the blanket over her head. "What time is it?"

"Early," the wolf replied unhelpfully. "The sun's barely up."

Yuki peeked out from under the covers to see faint dawn light filtering through the bedroom window. "Why are there people here at sunrise?"

"Word spread about your tree-reversal miracle last night," Fenrir said, starting his morning grooming routine. "Apparently, you're a magical prodigy now."

"Great," Yuki muttered, reluctantly pushing herself upright. Three days in this world, and she was already developing a reputation she couldn't possibly live up to.

She dressed quickly in another of Milda's dresses—a practical brown one with plenty of pockets—and splashed water on her face from the basin in the washroom. As she headed downstairs, she could hear the voices more clearly now, an excited murmur punctuated by occasional laughter.

Milda was already in the shop, floating near the window and peering through the dusty glass. "They've been arriving since before dawn," the ghost informed her. "Quite the queue."

Yuki peeked through the curtains. Sure enough, a line of villagers stretched from her door halfway down the street. They carried baskets, jars, and in one case, a squirming burlap sack. Most were chatting amiably, as if waiting in line for a popular restaurant rather than magical remedies.

"I can't help all these people," Yuki said, panic rising in her throat. "I barely managed last night, and that was with your step-by-step instructions."

"Nonsense," Milda replied briskly. "You've performed admirably so far. Besides, most of them probably have simple problems—warts, love troubles, minor curses. Standard witch business."

"Love troubles?" Yuki repeated. "I can't fix relationship problems with potions! That's what therapists are for."

"You'd be surprised," Fenrir remarked, joining them downstairs. "A little confidence potion, a drop of clarity elixir... works wonders."

Yuki took a deep breath. "Okay. I'll just... tell them I'm not taking patients yet. That I need more time to settle in."

"And disappoint all those hopeful faces?" Milda said. "A witch never turns away those in need. It's the first rule of magical practice."

"I thought the first rule was 'do no harm,'" Yuki muttered.

"That's doctors," Fenrir corrected. "Witches can do plenty of harm if necessary. But preferably don't."

Yuki glanced around the shop, which was still in disarray from last night's emergency. The cauldron needed cleaning, ingredients were scattered across the counter, and she had no system in place for treating patients. But the hopeful faces outside her window made her resolve weaken.

"Fine," she sighed. "I'll see what they want. But I'm not promising anything."

She straightened her dress, ran a hand through her hair, and opened the shop door.

The conversations immediately hushed as all eyes turned to her. Then, to Yuki's surprise, several people bowed deeply.

"Witch of Remedies," an elderly man at the front of the line said reverently. "We seek your wisdom and healing."

"Um, good morning," Yuki managed. "I... wasn't expecting so many visitors."

"Word of your miracle cure spread through the village," a middle-aged woman explained. "How you saved the mayor from becoming a maple tree!"

"It was more like an oak, actually," Yuki corrected automatically, then mentally kicked herself. "I mean, yes, I helped with that. But I'm still getting organized here."

"We can wait," the elderly man assured her, and murmurs of agreement rippled through the line. "Take all the time you need."

Yuki realized they weren't going anywhere. With a resigned nod, she retreated back into the shop to prepare, leaving the door ajar.

"They're treating me like some kind of magical celebrity," she hissed to Milda. "I can't live up to this."

"Of course you can," Milda said confidently. "Start with the basics. Clean the shop, organize your supplies, create a workspace. Efficiency is essential for a busy practice."

Despite her anxiety, Yuki found herself following the ghost's advice. She cleaned the cauldron, wiped down the counters, and arranged her herbs and remedies in a more logical order. She set up a small waiting area with the shop's only two chairs and cleared the main counter for consultations.

When she finally reopened the door properly, she felt marginally more prepared. "I'll see you one at a time," she announced to the waiting villagers. "Starting with... you, sir."

The elderly man from the front of the line shuffled in, clutching his hat to his chest. Fenrir positioned himself regally by the counter, earning wide-eyed stares from everyone who caught a glimpse inside.

"Name?" Yuki asked, trying to sound professional.

"Tobias Wheatley, ma'am. I farm the north fields." He twisted his hat nervously. "It's my cow, you see. Bessie."

"What seems to be the problem with Bessie?"

Tobias leaned forward and lowered his voice. "She's speaking in riddles. Started two days ago. Won't give a straight answer about anything."

Yuki blinked. "Your cow... talks?"

"Well, not normally," Tobias said, as if this clarified everything. "But she ate some of those purple flowers that grow near the fairy stones, and since then, it's nothing but riddles. Can't understand a word she's saying. Makes milking time very awkward."

Yuki glanced at Milda, who was hovering nearby.

"Riddlefern poisoning," the ghost supplied helpfully. "Common problem with livestock. Page forty-two."

Yuki flipped through the recipe book while Tobias waited patiently. Sure enough, there was an entry titled "Riddlefern Antidote (For Livestock)" with a detailed recipe and illustrations of the purple flowers in question.

"I think I can help with this," Yuki said, surprised at her own confidence. "It'll take about an hour to prepare the remedy."

Tobias beamed. "Bless you, Witch! What do I owe you?"

Yuki hesitated, still uncomfortable with the idea of charging for services she barely understood. "Let's say... five moonstones?" She glanced at Milda, who nodded approvingly.

"A fair price," Tobias agreed, placing the silver coins on the counter. "I'll return this afternoon for the remedy."

As Tobias left, the next patient entered—a frazzled-looking mother with two young boys, one of whom seemed perfectly normal while the other's shadow was unmistakably dancing on the wall, completely out of sync with the child's movements.

"It's been three days," the mother explained wearily. "Ever since he jumped over the old wishing well at midnight on a dare." She glared at the other boy, who looked appropriately guilty. "His shadow won't stop dancing, even when he's standing still. The neighbors are complaining about the shadow-noise at night."

"Shadow-noise?" Yuki asked.

"Like tap dancing, but squeakier," the woman clarified.

Yuki consulted with Milda again. The ghost directed her to a recipe for "Shadow Binding Tincture," which required moonlight-infused water and a personal item from the affected person.

The morning continued in this bizarre fashion. After the shadow-dancing boy came a gardener whose vegetables had started singing lullabies at sunset, a young woman whose hair changed color with her emotions, and a baker whose bread kept rearranging itself into messages he couldn't read.

For each problem, Milda guided Yuki to the appropriate remedy in her recipe book. Some were simple, requiring just a few common ingredients. Others were more complex, involving precise timing or unusual components that Yuki had to search for among Milda's extensive collection.

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By midday, Yuki had a counter full of remedies in progress and a growing list of patients to return later. Fenrir had made himself useful by entertaining the waiting villagers' children with "magical" tricks that mostly involved looking impressive and occasionally allowing the braver ones to touch his starry fur.

Just as Yuki was about to take a break for lunch, the door opened to admit a familiar face—Prince Elias, royal satchel in hand, looking far too eager.

"Good day, Witch of Remedies," he greeted with a formal bow. "I see business is booming."

Yuki suppressed a groan. "Prince Elias. What brings you here?"

"Professional interest," he replied, adjusting his spectacles. "After your remarkable demonstration last night, the Royal Academy would be remiss not to document your methods." He patted his satchel. "With your permission, of course."

"I'm quite busy, as you can see," Yuki gestured to the cluttered shop and the line still waiting outside.

"All the better!" Elias exclaimed. "I can observe you in your natural environment, dealing with a variety of magical ailments. The Academy has never had the opportunity to study a witch from another world before."

"I'm not a specimen," Yuki said irritably.

"Of course not," Elias backpedaled. "You're a colleague. A fellow practitioner of the arcane arts." He smiled hopefully. "Perhaps we could even collaborate? I have some experience with alchemical remedies."

Before Yuki could refuse, the door burst open and Percy, the mayor's son, stumbled in, out of breath and wild-eyed.

"Witch!" he gasped. "You have to come quick! It's the baker's daughter—Lily. Something's gone wrong with her again!"

Yuki felt a chill. "Lily? What happened?"

"She was fine after your remedy, but this morning, she started saying strange things. Talking about 'the whispers from the old tree' and 'the moon's secret name.'" Percy swallowed hard. "And now she's... she's started glowing. Like, actually glowing blue."

"Where is she?" Yuki was already reaching for her remedy bag—a practical satchel she'd found in Milda's closet.

"Her father took her to the old oak at the edge of the forest," Percy explained. "She insisted. Said 'the tree was calling her.'"

"The old oak?" Elias interjected, his scholarly interest piqued. "That's on a ley line convergence point. Highly magical. This is most—"

"Not now," Yuki cut him off. She turned to Fenrir. "I need you with me."

The wolf, who had been pretending to nap, was immediately on his feet. "Finally, some action."

Yuki addressed the waiting patients. "I'm sorry, but I have an emergency. Please come back tomorrow."

There were disappointed murmurs but no protests. Medical emergencies, it seemed, were respected in any world.

Milda floated to Yuki's side. "Take my emergency kit," she advised. "Small red box under the counter. For magical surges."

Yuki found the box—a carved wooden container filled with tiny vials of brightly colored liquids, each neatly labeled. She added it to her bag and hurried out, with Fenrir at her heels and, unfortunately, Prince Elias following close behind.

"I do have some expertise in magical fluxes," Elias insisted as they rushed through the village. "The Academy's research on ley line disturbances is quite extensive."

"Fine," Yuki conceded. If Lily was in danger, she needed all the help she could get—even from an overeager royal academic.

They reached the edge of the forest quickly. The oak tree Percy had mentioned was enormous—easily hundreds of years old, with a massive trunk and branches that seemed to reach for the sky. A small crowd had gathered around it, keeping a respectful distance. Yuki spotted Thomas the baker among them, his face etched with fear.

"Where is she?" Yuki asked, pushing through the crowd.

Thomas pointed upward. "She climbed up there. Won't come down. Says the tree is teaching her things."

Yuki looked up and felt her stomach drop. Lily sat on a high branch, at least thirty feet above the ground. The little girl was indeed glowing—a soft blue light emanated from her skin, pulsing gently like a heartbeat. Her eyes were closed, and she appeared to be whispering to herself.

"How long has she been like this?" Yuki asked.

"Almost an hour," Thomas said, his voice breaking. "She's never climbed trees before. She's afraid of heights! But she just... walked up to it and started climbing like she'd done it a thousand times."

Yuki turned to Elias. "You mentioned ley lines. Could this be related to the moonglow berries she ate earlier?"

The prince was already examining the area, pacing in a wide circle around the tree. "Possibly. Moonglow berries absorb magical energy from their environment. This tree sits at a confluence of at least three ley lines." He pointed to the ground, though Yuki couldn't see anything unusual. "The magical resonance here is extremely high."

"In normal person terms, please," Yuki pressed.

"The tree is magic, the berries were magic, and the child still had magic in her system," Fenrir translated bluntly. "Bad combination."

"Precisely," Elias agreed, apparently unperturbed by receiving confirmation from a talking wolf. "The remnants of the moonglow essence in her body must have reactivated when she came near this power source."

"So how do we help her?" Thomas demanded.

Yuki opened her remedy bag, searching for inspiration. The red emergency box seemed her best option, but none of the labels specifically mentioned "child glowing in magical tree."

"Can we climb up and get her?" she asked.

Thomas shook his head. "I tried. The trunk became too slippery. Like it was coated in oil."

"The tree is protecting her," Elias observed. "Or keeping her. Hard to say which."

Yuki thought quickly. "Fenrir, can you climb up there?"

The wolf looked affronted. "I'm a mystical entity, not a squirrel."

"You're the only one with claws," Yuki pointed out.

Fenrir sighed dramatically. "Fine. But you owe me extra treats." He approached the tree, sniffed it suspiciously, then began to climb, his claws digging into the bark. Surprisingly agile for his size, he made steady progress upward.

While Fenrir climbed, Yuki searched Milda's emergency kit for anything useful. Among the vials, she found one labeled "Magical Dampening Solution" with a note: "For excess magical absorption. Three drops on the tongue."

"This might work," she said, showing it to Elias. "If she's absorbed too much magical energy from the tree or the ley lines, this could suppress it."

The prince examined the vial with interest. "The coloration suggests phoenix tears as a base. Powerful nullifying agent." He nodded. "It's worth trying."

Above them, Fenrir had reached Lily's branch. The wolf approached the girl cautiously, speaking to her in a low voice that didn't carry down to them. Lily, eyes still closed, turned toward him as if listening.

"What's he saying to her?" Thomas asked anxiously.

"I don't know," Yuki admitted. "But he seems to be connecting with her."

After a moment, Lily reached out and placed her small hand on Fenrir's head. The blue glow surrounding her seemed to dim slightly at the contact.

"The familiar is absorbing some of the excess energy," Elias observed. "Fascinating."

Fenrir carefully nudged the girl, guiding her to hold onto his fur. Then, with agonizing slowness, he began leading her back toward the trunk. Lily followed in a trance-like state, her movements precise despite her closed eyes.

"He's bringing her down," Yuki said, relief flooding her voice. "Everyone stand back and give them space."

The descent took much longer than the climb, with Fenrir constantly looking back to ensure Lily was secure. When they finally reached the lower branches, Thomas rushed forward, arms outstretched to receive his daughter.

The moment Lily's feet touched the ground, her eyes flew open. They were glowing the same eerie blue as her skin.

"The roots go deeper than anyone knows," she said in a voice too mature for her small body. "The old ones sleep beneath the forest floor."

"Lily?" Thomas reached for her, but hesitated, afraid to touch the glowing child.

Yuki uncorked the Magical Dampening Solution. "Lily, I need you to take this medicine. It will help with the glowing."

The girl turned to Yuki, her luminous eyes seeming to look through rather than at her. "The witch who isn't a witch," she said cryptically. "The shop chose well."

A chill ran down Yuki's spine. Before she could respond, Fenrir butted his head against Lily's side.

"Enough cryptic nonsense, small human," the wolf said gruffly. "Take the medicine so we can all go home."

Something in his no-nonsense tone seemed to reach the girl. She blinked, and for a moment, her eyes looked normal again. "My head feels funny," she said in her regular child's voice.

Yuki seized the opportunity, stepping forward with the vial. "Three drops of this will make it better. Open up."

Lily obediently opened her mouth, and Yuki carefully administered three drops of the solution onto her tongue. The effect was almost immediate. The blue glow pulsed once, twice, then began to fade from her skin. Her eyes returned to their normal blue color, and she swayed slightly on her feet.

Thomas caught her as she stumbled, gathering her into a tight hug. "Lily! Are you all right?"

The girl looked confused. "Papa? Why are we at the big tree? I was having such a strange dream."

"What kind of dream, kiddo?" Fenrir asked, sitting back on his haunches.

Lily's eyes widened at the talking wolf, but she answered readily enough. "I dreamed the tree was telling me secrets. About the forest and the stars and... old things sleeping underground." She frowned. "It's getting fuzzy now."

Elias had been scribbling notes furiously in a small book. "Remarkable. The child was temporarily connected to the ancient consciousness residing in the oak. There are theories that the oldest trees in magical forests retain memories of—"

"Prince Elias," Yuki interrupted firmly. "Perhaps now isn't the time."

The prince looked up from his notes, taking in Thomas's still-frightened expression and Lily's confused one. "Ah. Yes. Of course." He put his notebook away. "My apologies."

Yuki knelt down to examine Lily more closely. The girl's color was returning to normal, and her pupils reacted properly when Yuki checked them. "How do you feel now? Any dizziness? Ringing in your ears?"

Lily shook her head. "Just tired. And hungry."

Thomas laughed shakily. "That's my girl." He looked at Yuki with immense gratitude. "Thank you, Witch. Again."

"You should keep her away from magical sites for a while," Yuki advised. "The moonglow essence should fully leave her system in a few days."

"I'll keep her home," Thomas promised. "No more forest adventures."

As the crowd began to disperse, Yuki felt the adrenaline draining from her body, leaving her trembling slightly. This had been too close.

"You handled that exceptionally well," Elias said, falling into step beside her as they headed back to the village. "The Academy's records show that magical tree enthrallment usually lasts for days without intervention."

"I got lucky with the right potion," Yuki said.

"Luck had nothing to do with it," Fenrir countered, trotting alongside them. "You knew what to do and did it."

Yuki glanced at the wolf. "Thanks for getting her down. That was... impressive."

"Of course it was. I'm impressive by nature." Despite his haughty tone, Fenrir looked pleased.

Back at the shop, Yuki was relieved to find the crowd had dispersed, though several remedies still sat half-completed on her counter. Milda materialized as soon as they entered.

"Well? How is the child?" the ghost asked anxiously.

"Recovering," Yuki reported. "Your Magical Dampening Solution worked perfectly."

"Of course it did," Milda said, echoing Fenrir's earlier confidence. "My emergency kit has saved countless lives over the years."

Elias lingered in the doorway, clutching his satchel. "I should report this incident to the Academy. Tree enthrallment combined with moonglow exposure is an extremely rare occurrence."

"Will your report mention me?" Yuki asked warily.

"It would be remiss not to credit the practitioner who successfully treated the condition," Elias replied. Then, noting her expression, he added, "But I could perhaps omit some of the more... unique aspects of your methods."

"I'd appreciate that," Yuki said sincerely.

After Elias finally departed, Yuki collapsed onto a stool behind the counter, emotionally and physically drained. "Is every day going to be like this?"

"Welcome to the life of a village witch," Milda said, not unsympathetically. "Some days are singing vegetables, other days are children possessed by ancient tree spirits."

"Keeps things interesting," Fenrir added, curling up by the hearth. "Now, about those extra treats you promised..."

Yuki looked around the shop—at the half-finished remedies, the open recipe book, the emergency kit that had saved Lily's life. This wasn't what she had trained for. Pharmacy school hadn't covered talking cows or glowing children.

And yet, somehow, she was managing. More than managing—she was helping.

"I should finish these," she said, gesturing to the remedies. "People will be coming back for them."

"The Witch of Remedies is officially open for business, it seems," Milda observed with a hint of pride.

Yuki nodded slowly. "I guess she is."