“Iron is easy enough to remedy,” Wilbur said the evening after. “We simply need iron ores. Calcium, we can milk from healthy cows and goats, and protein we could get from any animal meat, but mostly from pigs and cows. Even then, though, I think it best we partner them with fruits and dark leafy greens. Though that part... that part is difficult to acquire.”

He was pacing around the infirmary, fingers on his chin. Ember and I bobbed our heads as he walked in circles. My fluffy friend swished her white tail side to side. I scratched the top of her head. “He gets like this sometimes,” I whispered to her. She yawned.

He mused about the other minerals the villagers lacked, like zinc, potassium, and many others whose names I cannot remember. “The others need minerals deeper in one of the surface-level caves of Mount Lhottem." Almost like a side thought, he added, "These ores have the same name as the minerals lacking in their body.”

He grabbed his journals and showed me the sketches of the ores he needed. When Woodrow entered, Wilbur filled him in, pointing to the sketches. Woodrow leaned closer to the pages and memorized the different shapes of the ores.

“I’ll go. Jerome would probably want to come, too. He made me promise to bring him along.”

I smiled. "I'm glad you two patched things up."

"It's easier when I'm satiated and can control myself," Woodrow shrugged.

He gathered Jerome and two other warriors for this trip, assembling them in the ranges, asking Harlan and Agate for permission. They carried their wooden poles and spears. Before leaving, Jerome practiced his aim at the trees. He landed one arrow at the center. “You’re getting good,” Woodrow commented as his own silver dagger flew near the center spot. Since he would be accompanying them, I would reserve my blessings for arms for another expedition. Besides, with Woodrow’s nourished state, he would land more critical blows to a shadow direwolf.

___

I brought Claude to the infirmary. It was my friend’s turn to get checked by a renowned physician.

I guided him through the little walkway that led from the granges to the infirmary, away from the monastery proper. All the guests knew that they were prohibited from entering the monastery past the church. Not one of them had seen the garth and walked its cloisters. Not even my friend. He was not ready to see our real nature just yet. I don’t know if he will ever be.

He was looking around the brick walls as I set him down on one of the cots. Wilbur handed me the cotton and needle. Claude showed me his hand, palms open. I placed my own underneath his, my thumb holding the base of his thumb, and pricked. I swabbed his blood quickly and placed it on one of the small wooden dishes with his name. Not initials. Name.

We talked, lying on the same cot. We tapped our boots against each other. “The people back at Rothfield are getting suspicious about our tribute. Vincent Bahram is going around telling everyone that we are cheating and hoarding good food for ourselves. They wonder why Annette has recovered from the death-chill when it has claimed the other babes in their cribs.”

He faced me, his nose almost brushing my cheeks. With my odd sharp eyes, I could see he was growing older.

I held his hand and pressed my thumb on the area I pricked. “I won’t whisper behind your back. You can hide here if they come for you.” I did not know why I said that. Only that I meant it. He pressed his thumb against mine.

___

Wilbur popped Claude's blood into his mouth. He frowned and shook his head, disapproving. “He may look strong, but the boy needs iron, protein, calcium, potassium, and a whole lot of other nutrients.” He sighed. I didn’t like that. “His animals. We need to make sure his animals are healthy so that he has a constant source of those nutrients. However, the problem of resource allocation persists. How are we going to feed his animals when we only have enough healthy grains for the villagers here?”

There was no resolution. Unless I had enough stamina and power from the prayers I harvested from the villagers, the problem would stay. I sighed, sending a personal prayer to Saint Gaelamr to keep the fires in Claude’s cottage warmer and to give them daily strength.

Speaking of prayers to harvest, it was already Saintsday.

I opened the church doors wide, letting the people inside. The dark pews were already filling out a quarter of the space on one side of the church. There was no incense this time, and there were a few short candles, but everyone seemed content and smiling, and I could sense their faith in Gaelmar was strong. I stood under Gaelmar’s feet, raised both my arms, and led the sermon. The warm wind swirled and surged through me, revitalizing me.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

___

Another vision from Gaelmar that night. He pointed to the clearing near Agate and Harlan’s camp. Empty dead grey soil. “Because of your work, I offer a solution to your plight. Pray with me, brother Ryne,” he said.

We knelt on the green grass of his vision, facing each other, and our prayers flowed like glowing golden trails of sunlight from our lips to the grey, faded grassland blocked by briars and mega thorns. We expelled the miasma out of it. When the forest defenses splintered, cracked, and retreated underground, I saw that I was rewarded with a meadow. Only a good small portion of it: there was another wall of thorns a few spaces away.

All the hopes of the people flowed through Gaelmar and he set his kindflame to bring life back to the soil on a much grander scale. Green washed the greyness away and a breath of wind ruffled through the meadow, uncurling the once-dried grass. Curiously, I saw a grand stone column with a dish on the top.

And then Gaelmar faded away, closing his eyes, back to his slumber. I have been awarded a new location for the monastery.

A meadow for pasture.

I was already planning my next move as soon as I woke. Even before Blake stirred within me. If the vision was accurate, then there was only enough grass for pigs to graze for a few weeks before the grass grew again on its own, assuming that the soil there required no further prayers to keep it fertile. There has to be a schedule, rotating goats, pigs, and even sheep on certain days of the week.

I decided to let the grass grow further before announcing it to the villagers and Claude. I only told my brothers about it, pointing to a vague area near Agate and Harlan's settlement.

Two weeks went by. I continued my usual prayers for dispelling, banishment, and protection. Wilbur made more Hartfert I and Liverfert I to sprinkle in the granges and garth. Agate, Harlan, Woodrow, and sometimes Ember, continued to brave the mountains and harvest the ores needed for Wilbur’s experiments.

Once he had enough ores, Wilbur started working. He melted the simple ores needed to supply the lacking nutrients in the villagers’ bodies with my kindflame. His bottles swirled with oil-like substances. One long bottle contained aluminum, while the other contained zinc and potassium.

“I separated them all,” Wilbur said. “Now, we just need to cool it.” He placed the liquid onto separate wooden dishes and handed them to me. “If you could, place them in a quiet, clean place. Perhaps the garth. Let the wind and whatever sun that passes through the clouds solidify them.”

I did so, waiting for them to harden for five days. When they were done, Wilbur chipped them away and placed varying sizes of pieces on his scale, different colors twinkling. He adjusted the pieces; sometimes taking, sometimes adding, sometimes breaking the larger pieces into smaller ones, until the scales balanced. He then placed the minerals on a dish with Claude’s initials. It seemed that my brother physician remembered the amount of minerals needed by each person because no scale balance was the same. He added more iron for Kory. For the adults, sometimes there was more zinc or more iron and whatever strange minerals they needed.

He did this painstakingly for two nights until all the dishes contained each villager's vitamins.

Then, we announced to the whole village that we would make them their pottage one night. Woodrow used his natural charm and played Jerome’s wood pipes. He did not need to use his powers yet, not while the villagers trusted us. He arranged for games to distract the people and raise their spirits while Wilbur and I made a hearty soup. There was meat in there; visible scraps of pig and quail eggs from the forest with grains floating on the surface. I poured soup into a hot bowl and carefully added Kory’s vitamins. I searched for her, pressing the bowl to her small hands, and making sure she cleaned that bowl empty. I did this until all the vitamin-enriched soups were administered to the person needing them. All that was left was Claude’s. Woodrow and Jerome were huddled in a corner. Wilbur was with Agate, looking amusedly at Harlan as he tried to entice them into a game of archery.

I went back to the church and waited for Claude, both our soups in my hand. I had told him earlier to come. The children of Kent were being put to bed when his shadow formed in the arched pathway of the monastery.

He waved a hand. “Had plenty to do today. Cleaned the farmhouse.”

"Good," I said, giving him his soup. "You brought your appetite."

It had gotten cold while waiting for him. I warmed it with the kindflame I channeled on my hand underneath the bowl. I gave him his soup and watched him eat it. He was making appreciative sounds with each bite. But other than that, we dined in silence, watching the embers of the communal fire dim from where we sat on the church's steps. Harlan set his eyes on us and called Claude over excitedly. I chuckled as he tried his hand in archery. It was his first time: he missed. So did his second and third aim.

Jerome walked over and adjusted his arms. He told him to take a deep breath, focus on the target and not the arrowhead, and release. He did not hit the center, but it was close enough to win him a prize: a slice of stale rye-oat bread. He broke it in half and shared it with me.

___

Next Saintsday, I sensed that the people were happier. I focused on their spirit motes and found almost everyone had a green mote which meant they were content. There were even sparks of yellow symbolizing happiness. The prayers they offered were particularly powerful that night.

Gaelmar materialized in my dreams again.

He was pointing to another area of the monastery, opposite the meadow. There, beyond the dark trees was a bright light beaming through the giant briars. I prayed with him again, channeling half of the harvested prayers to appease the dark forest defenses.

They revealed a clean body of water, quiet and cool in the moonlight. It was still grey even though our prayers activated it. Curiously, I saw a giant column with a dish at the top standing at the center of the grass before the water. It was like in the meadow. I know what that meant, now.