Meet and Greet

Chapter 7 of The Impossible Apothecary

Welcome to the next chapter in our serialized cozy story as we follow Flu Windraven on her journey to join the community of Tansy Vale as the new village apothecary. If you would like to receive updates each week as new chapters are released, consider subscribing, if you haven’t already.

If you would like to go back, and read the story from the beginning, broken down into individual chapters, or you landed here on a random chapter and would like to start from the beginning, you can click below to access the table of contents and get all caught up with the story so far! Until next time, I hope you enjoy this latest installment.

Chapter 7

Meet and Greet

Dear Nana,

You would love the spot I found for the Apothecary. It reminds me a lot of home, and I think she feels the same way. We are both settling in, but it has admittedly been a rough start.

Still, I have already managed to help one man. His daughter, Petal, braved the forest at night to come find me in the marsh to treat her father. When I examined him it was a pretty standard Fallow Fever, but if she had waited any longer I’m not sure there was much I could do. I treated him with the normal remedies and sat with him through the night. I was a bit concerned as it was very advanced, but he didn’t show any of the symptoms that there was any lasting damage by morning. I think you would be proud of me.

I also opened the fairy door, and it worked on the first try! Miss Thistleby, the woman I told you about from the municipal office, said I was required to use the storefront in town, which I suppose makes sense. It is not like back home, where travelers and such would seek you out for help. Here it is much more of a public facing business.

So I connected the fairy door to the shop, which means I can still work in your lab while running the storefront. Well, I suppose it’s my lab now. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that. It does make things terribly convenient though, so thank you.

Speaking of Miss Thistleby, she reminds me a little of you. Not at first glance, of course, but in the way she appreciates efficiency and rules. It reminds me of you always harping on me about lab safety, which I do appreciate, and which you should be happy to know I am keeping up with. Though I am not sure the two of you would get on terribly well. I do not think she would appreciate some of your more colorful personality traits.

I do miss having you here to make me laugh, though. I could use that about now. The village is lovely, and the people, I am sure, are nice enough. I am admittedly a little lonely, if I am being honest. Even when we had no visitors, I still always had you, and the Apothecary feels empty without you here.

I have not quite settled in socially yet, but that will come with time, I suppose. People still seem rather unnerved by me. It never used to bother me when I lived out in the wilds with you, but that was different. People being nervous about a couple of bog witches living alone in the woods and far from the settlements was to be expected. Here, though, it feels different.

It’s not all bad. I have made some progress. Fern, the girl who showed me the spot where I put the Apothecary, came to visit, and we had a nice chat. She seemed less anxious about me after we sat and had tea together. She may also have put her finger on part of the problem. I had hoped that, by virtue of need, people would come into the shop, but hardly anyone has stepped foot in there since I took over. So Fern pointed out that maybe I need to get out more and make an effort to meet people instead of waiting for them to come to me.

It was a bit of a sobering realization. So I have decided that tomorrow I will go into town and hopefully meet some new people. If Petal can be brave enough to come find a witch in the woods at night, I can brave some social interactions with strangers. So for now, I suppose I should get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a big day.

I love you, Nana. And I miss you.

Love,

Flu

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The sun gently warmed the streets with early morning light as the residents of Tansy Vale went about their daily routines in the heart of the village. A steady rhythm rang out from the blacksmith’s shop, setting an even pace for the morning. Carts slowly made their way through the streets, delivering and transporting wares and harvests. It was, in nearly every respect, like any other morning in the village.

Save for one small but glaring difference casually strolling through town.

Flu’s dress rustled as she made a determined effort to walk down the street with the easy nonchalance of any other villager. Unfortunately, the chalance was rather obvious. Her hands kept straying to her apron, fidgeting at the fabric as she offered warm smiles to those she passed and a soft “good morning” to anyone who gave her more than a fleeting glance.

She could feel their eyes on her as hushed whispers drifted her way.

“As if the goblins weren’t bad enough, now we’ve got witches,” a man unloading his cart murmured to a shopkeeper.

“I heard she lives in a haunted cottage in the dark woods,” another voice muttered.

Flu knew this was not going to be an easy sell, especially with her grand entrance into the village still so vividly fresh in their minds. She fought every instinct that told her to put her head down and kept her smile as warm and friendly as she could manage, her right hand clenched tightly in the pocket of her apron.

At last, she reached her first stop for the day.

The wooden sign outside read Café Caroline, with an impressively detailed mug carved into it, steam curling up from the top. Taking a steadying breath, she pulled open the door.

The little bell by the door announced her arrival, and the smattering of patrons within fell abruptly silent. The stillness was broken only by a young woman who had been mid-bite on a rather crispy biscuit and apparently decided there was nothing for it but to keep chewing in muffled crunches. Flu froze in place as every eye in the shop turned toward her.

Taking another deep breath, she maintained her sunny expression and stepped over the threshold. The wide brim of her hat brushed both sides of the doorframe as she made her way to the counter and took her place in the short line. Slowly, conversation began again, though in a rather more hushed tone, as people did their best to pretend they were not all keenly focused on the unusually pale young woman dressed all in black.

The man in front of her hurriedly accepted his coffee and made a swift retreat, eager to get away without spilling his scalding drink.

Behind the counter stood a man who took Flu by surprise. He was large, very large, looking far more suited to working a field, or perhaps taking on a dungeon by himself, than running a coffee shop.

Flu studied the simple slate menu on the counter before addressing him. She already knew what she wanted, but that was not the point of this visit. She was here to integrate. She could still hear Nana’s advice from years ago. “Always use a merchant’s name if you know it, because it starts things off friendly. And always let them know you see and appreciate their craft”.

Judging that the sign might not be the most reliable source of personal information, Flu decided to skip the name portion of the advice. She rather suspected that the man before her, who looked more apt to pull a wagon than ride in one, was likely not the Caroline advertised in tthe shop’s name. Better to move straight on to appreciating craft.

After making a show of considering the menu, she turned to him with a practiced smile.

“Good morning. All of this sounds lovely. What would you recommend?” she asked, aiming for friendly without tipping over into overly enthusiastically trying too hard.

The man’s sharp eyes were fixed on her, though his face gave away nothing.
“The coffee,” he said flatly, his gruff voice like rocks grinding together somewhere deep in his throat.

Well, that’s not super helpful.

Flu paused. Though she kept her eyes forward, she could feel the attention of everyone in the room settling squarely on her.

“That sounds lovely,” she said, trying not to sound shaken.

This was fine. She was just another patron visiting a local establishment, buying a cup of coffee like anyone else. Nothing to see here. All she had to do was manage this quick, simple interaction and be on her way. Then people would see she was no different from anyone else.

“I’ll take one black coffee, please.”

With an affirmative grunt, the large man turned his back to prepare the order. Flu kept her gaze politely forward, resisting the urge to look at the other patrons she knew were still watching her.

After what felt like an eternity, though it could not have been more than a few seconds, he turned back and placed a steaming mug on the counter. As he did, Flu noticed that his rolled sleeves revealed forearms marked by a tapestry of crisscrossing scars. His rough hands bore similar signs of old damage: thick knuckles, pale scars, and broken bones that hadn’t healed quite right.

Flu pulled her attention back to the moment, put her smile in place, and took a slow breath through her nose.

“This smells wonderful, thank you,” she said in a gracious tone.

“Four copper. Another six for the mug deposit if you’re taking it with you.” His voice never changed. Flu could not tell whether he was being gruff on purpose or if it was simply part of his normal demeanor, but she kept her smile bright in return.

“Oh, that’s a very reasonable price, thank you,” she said, still trying to ingratiate herself. Then she reached for the pocket of her apron and froze, her eyes widening as she looked at him.

The man behind the counter stood there as still and immovable as a large, faintly threatening, boulder.

The realization hit her as she felt her empty pocket, realizing she had forgotten her coin purse. She had been so nervous leaving the house that morning that she had left it behind. She could still pay him easily enough, but she disliked the means by which she would have to do it.

Which would be worse at this moment: admitting she could not pay and that he had wasted his time and coffee, or doing exactly what she had desperately hoped to avoid in a public space today?

With a resigned sigh, she reached into another of her apron’s many pockets and drew out what looked like a twisted, gnarled stick. After a brief hesitation she moved it to her left hand to keep it steady.

Several small gasps rose from the room. Somewhere behind her came the scraping creak of chairs shifting in preparation to flee the café if necessary.

Taking the wand firmly in hand, Flu let a trickle of will flow into it and pointed it off to the right of the large man, taking care not to aim directly at him. She had no desire to discover what someone whose hands looked larger than her head might do if he felt threatened.

With a quick downward motion, she drew a jagged black line through the air. It hung there for a moment, following the wand’s path like a tear in the world. Quiet unsettling voices seemed to whisper incomprehensible words from the tear. Then she reached out with her free hand and pressed against it. The line split open, just wide enough to admit her arm, revealing nothing but a narrow seam of blackness. Purple, heatless flames danced along the edges of the portal, tickling her skin as she pushed her arm in up to her elbow.

Somewhere in the room a spoon loudly clattered to the floor.

The tension in the room tightened palpably as she rummaged inside the floating tear in reality. The café owner, however, remained as expressionless and immovable as ever.

After a moment, she withdrew her hand and the little portal snapped shut with a soft pop and vanished. In her palm sat several copper coins.

She counted out ten of them, each metallic clink sounding far louder than it ought to in the silence of the café as she set them on the counter.

“Here you are,” she said, summoning up another bright smile. “And an extra for your magnificent service.”

The man’s eyes stayed locked on her for a moment before one large, calloused hand came down over the coins and swept them from sight.

Flu did her best to keep her hands from shaking as she took the mug from the counter and carefully sipped.

“It’s delicious. Thank you,” she said with her usual warm smile. The man gave a slight nod and grunt before returning to his work.

Flu did her best not to look at the patrons as she opened the door and stepped out onto the walk. The moment she was outside, she heard the café reanimate behind her, but she did not look back. These people were already wary of her and her magic, and she had stuck her arm into a pocket dimension in front of everyone in the shop. Something inside of her felt like it might crack, but she held her composure.

I think I may have made it worse.

Caught up in her own thoughts, Flu nearly flung her coffee into the air when a quiet voice behind her said her name.

“Hello, Flu.”

She fumbled the mug, catching it with both hands and barely managing not to slosh the contents all over herself, or worse, drop and shatter the cup she was meant to return. Turning, she found Fern standing there with the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her mouth.

Was she laughing?

Flu gathered herself and smiled back. “Hey, Fern. By the goddesses, you nearly scared my soul right out of my body.”

Her heart was still racing, though whether from the fright or the lingering anxiety of the café, she couldn’t have said.

“I see you took my advice and came out of hiding,” Fern said. The corners of her mouth remained turned up slightly. It looked good on her.

Until the day before, Fern had seemed deeply anxious around her, but after a trip through a magical portal and a tour of her sentient house, she had loosened a little, which was probably strange in its own right.

“Yeah,” Flu said with a sigh. “But I think I may have only exacerbated things.”

They fell into step together and started down the lane toward Flu’s shop. All the while, Flu could still feel the eyes of the townsfolk on her. She did her best not to let it bother her, but the ache in her stomach remained all the same.

“What makes you think that?” Fern asked after a moment.

Flu took a breath and let it out slowly. “For one thing, I think I scared people back there. After the way I came into town, I thought doing something ordinary might help. Something normal. Like buying a cup of coffee.” She glanced down at the mug in her hands. “Instead, I managed to make another spectacle of myself.”

Fern gave a soft chuckle. “I can’t imagine it was worse than arriving riding on top of a walking, garbage-eating piece of luggage.”

That drew a tiny reluctant smile from Flu.

Fern glanced sideways at her. “What exactly did you do?”

Flu winced, her reply coming out in a quiet mumble. “I opened a portal to a pocket dimension in the middle of the café.”

Flu, distracted by her own embarrassment, made it several paces farther before noticing she was suddenly walking alone. She turned to find Fern standing in the middle of the lane, perfectly still, staring at her with a look of mild bewilderment.

“Fern?”

Fern blinked once.

“Is everything alright?” Flu asked.

Fern seemed to be trying to gather herself, as though her thoughts had briefly scattered in confusion and she was herding them back into something coherent. Then she looked at Flu and said carefully, “You opened a what?”

Flu sighed.

“I opened a portal to the pocket dimension where I keep a lot of my supplies,” she explained. “I forgot my coin purse, but I keep most of my money stashed in there and—” She paused, then added with a small wince, “It was only a little portal.”

Flu held up her thumb and forefinger trying to express the diminutive, and totally not at all a big deal, size of the magical portal she had just torn in the fabric of reality in front of a cafe full of people who had never seen anyone do magic before.

Fern continued staring at her.

Flu shifted the coffee cup from one hand to the other. “I am beginning to suspect that ‘little portal’ is not, in fact, a reassuring phrase.”

“No,” Fern said faintly. “No, it really isn’t.”

Walking quietly, Flu in embarrassment and Fern in bewilderment, they approached Flu’s storefront. Upon their arrival, Flu looked down at the mat in front of the door where a small basket lay, its contents hidden beneath a small cloth. She slowed.

“Oh,” Fern said, sounding relieved by the change of subject. “Maybe the winds are changing. Someone left you a gift.”

Flu crouched and pulled back the cloth.

Inside lay several bundles of long, slender stalks, each crested with clusters of small yellow flowers, their tiny leaves a deep, vivid red.

Flu’s expression sank, in time with her heart.

“This isn’t a gift,” she quickly picked up the basket, carried it into the shop, and set it on the counter along with her hat. Pulling back the cloth, she gave Fern a chance to look inside.

“Oh, those are pretty,” Fern said. “Why do you think it wasn’t a gift?”

“It’s witch’s bane,” Flu said. “In some places people hang it over their doors thinking it keeps witches away.” She gave a small, humorless scoff. “It’s all nonsense, of course. Witches use it in tinctures and brews all the time.”

Fern picked up one of the stalks and turned it over in her fingers.

Flu looked down at the basket, her mouth tightening slightly.

“Someone definitely left it for me,” she said quietly. “But I don’t think they were trying to welcome me.”

She lifted her eyes to Fern.

“I think it was a message.”

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