A Visit to the Ailing Fanny

“That’s…”

Following South Creek’s gaze, Barry instantly grasped her unspoken desire. He scratched his cheek with a sigh, the rugged blacksmith offering a wry, apologetic smile as he gently declined her request.

“That’s merely where we typically forge iron. It’s scorching hot and grimy, offering little of interest, and there’s always the risk of encountering molten metal… All in all, it would be best if you didn’t venture inside.”

“You wish to take a peek inside, South Creek? Truly, it would be far better if you refrained…”

“…Alright.”

Despite a flicker of disappointment, South Creek did not press the matter further. After popping the last piece of dried fruit into her mouth, she clapped her hands together and rose to her feet.

“Oh, it seems quite late already. Thank you, Uncle Barry and Brother Wede. I truly must be off.”

“Indeed. You mustn’t keep others waiting for their herbs. Just remember to come visit with your sister next time you have a moment!”

“See you next time, South Creek!”

“Mhm, mhm, I understand…”

With Barry and Wede’s warm farewells echoing behind her, South Creek departed the blacksmith’s forge. Clutching the bundle of herbs she was tasked to deliver next, she unfolded the small note Elise had given her and quickly pinpointed her destination.

“Aunt Meg’s house, of all places? Could Fanny possibly be ill as well?”

With this thought, South Creek realized she ought to quicken her steps.

A resounding bang!

Abruptly, a tremendous clang erupted from within the blacksmith’s shop, followed by the faint, muffled curses of men that drifted to her ears, startling South Creek profoundly.

“What… what just happened?”

South Creek instinctively moved to knock on the blacksmith’s door, intending to inquire about the commotion. However, the thought of the herbs destined for Aunt Meg’s house swiftly returned to her, forcing her to suppress her curiosity and hastily depart.

“Aunt Meg, Aunt Meg, are you home?”

Aunt Meg’s home stood nestled at the edge of sprawling farmland. With autumn not far off, a vast ocean of deep golden-red Lulu grain—a staple crop akin to wheat—could be seen swaying and rippling in the breeze. Alongside it, the grand white Loralyn blossoms—distinct from common Loralyn flowers due to their larger size and edible petals—danced gracefully in the wind, painting a scene worthy of a masterpiece.

Even now, the fields were already beginning to show signs of maturity. Strong men tilled the soil, followed by women and children, each person contributing to the preparations for the forthcoming autumn harvest.

Tapping rhythmically on the door, South Creek called out a few times. Soon after, a flurry of footsteps sounded from within, and with a soft ‘creak,’ the door swung open.

“Ah, South Creek, is that you? Have you brought the herbs? You’re finally here. Do come in and rest a moment.”

“Thank you, Auntie.”

The woman who greeted South Creek at the door was a slender, middle-aged figure. Her skin, parched and sun-darkened, bore the deep etchings of time upon her face. Upon seeing South Creek, she managed a strained smile, her rough hand gently taking the girl’s small one and guiding her into the house.

“Cough, cough… South Creek, you’ve actually come…”

Just as South Creek had suspected, the moment she stepped into the inner room, she saw Fanny, frail and pallid, lying prostrate on the bed. It was evident the girl was suffering from a severe illness.

“Fanny…”

“It seems I… somehow caught a chill while playing by the pond one day, though I can’t quite recall when.”

Attempting to offer South Creek a weak smile, Fanny had lost all her usual vivacity. The dreadful illness had confined her to the bed, her complexion as starkly white as freshly fallen snow.

“South Creek, you can just hand the herbs to me… It’s probably best if you don’t come too close, in case you catch it…”

“I… I understand…”

Witnessing her usual playmate reduced to such a fragile state, South Creek felt an undeniable wave of despondency wash over her. She carefully passed the herbs to Aunt Meg, offering instructions:

“Sister Elise said this is a seven-day supply, to be taken three times daily. Each time, you’ll need to take a portion from each packet, mix them, and boil them into a medicinal broth. After seven days, she should recover completely.”

“As for the precise dosage for each serving… it’s five Loralyn flowers, three stalks of Marla Grass, six tender leaves of Jise Jing, and a portion of Jizhu root. Combine all these ingredients in a pot and simmer them into a potent broth.”

“Very well, I’ve noted it all down… Little South Creek, your memory is truly astounding to retain such intricate details. Your auntie here feels quite inadequate by comparison.”

“That’s everything. Speaking of Fanny, is she…”

“You, cough! There’s no… need to worry about me, you know.”

Noticing her friend’s concerned gaze, Fanny blinked slowly, then struggled to retrieve something from under her blankets.

“Hold on, this is hardly the time for you to exert yourself. In your current state…?!”

“Ta-da! What do you think? Surprised?”

With an air of feigned triumph, the item she produced was not a toy or a handmade pillow. Instead, it was a small, fluffy creature with wide, blinking eyes.

“What… what is that?”

“It’s an adorable little Dobby! [A small, cat-like creature, quite harmless, and typically not inclined to human affection.] I pleaded with my mother for ages before she finally managed to catch one for me.”

At that very moment, the charming little creature, having just emerged from its warm sanctuary, had yet to fully grasp its new surroundings. It blinked in confusion, first gazing at the small girl cradling it, then shifting its attention to South Creek, who stood a short distance away, wearing a bewildered expression. Finally, it let out a languid yawn.

“Look, look, isn’t it just incredibly cute?”

“…”

“Ah, this girl, Fanny, she’s restless even confined to her sickbed, constantly bemoaning her boredom. I happened upon this little creature while I was out in the fields, and to my surprise, it showed no fear of me whatsoever, so I simply brought it home. It can serve as a little companion for her.”

Overflowing with doting affection for her daughter, Aunt Meg offered a smile that was a blend of helplessness and profound joy. For her, witnessing her ailing daughter’s smile was undoubtedly the greatest blessing.

“It is… quite cute.”

Gazing at the fluffy little creature nestled in Fanny’s hand, South Creek nodded, a faint flush of exasperation rising to her cheeks. To dare carry a small animal while so terribly weak—only Fanny could pull off such a whimsical, slightly absurd feat.

Yet, truth be told, the entirely white little creature was undeniably charming, exuding an irresistible allure that made one long to draw closer.

“Do you want one?”

“…No.”

To claim she harbored no desire for it would have been a blatant lie; the prospect of caring for such an adorable little creature certainly stirred South Creek’s heart. However, she could easily surmise what Fanny would propose next, hence her resolute ‘no’.

“You’re lying.”

“Alright… I suppose I wouldn’t mind.”

Given that Fanny was a patient, South Creek decided to indulge her for the moment.

“If you want one, why don’t you go catch one yourself?”

“So I—wait, catch one myself?”

Her expression froze. Had her emotions been capable of manifestation, South Creek’s head would undoubtedly have been crowned with a multitude of bewildered question marks.