This Is What I Do
A call in the night
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. This is a bonus chapter release to get the story on the same schedule as our posts on Royal Road. If you would like to receive updates each week as new chapters are released every Thursday, 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.
Our first newsletter introducing the story was a bit of a cluttered mess, so we made an easy to navigate index! If you would like to go back, and read the story 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 5
This Is What I Do
As morning rose over Tansy Vale, the village settled into its usual routines. Sweet smells of bread and baked fruit drifted from the bakery as it prepared for the morning rush. From the blacksmith came the heavy whoomp, whoomp of the bellows beginning their day’s labor.
And in the apothecary, Flu hummed to herself as she turned jars just so, making certain each carefully lettered label faced outward for easy browsing. She smiled contentedly at her work, turning to another jar on the shelf which, disconcertingly to anyone but Flu, was full of eyeballs of various types.
“How does it look?”
The eyes swiveled various directions in the jar, seemingly examining her work, but did not respond.
She giggled, gave the jar of wandering eyes a fond pat, and took their silence as agreement. “I think so too.”
When the town properly woke and people began passing by, many took part in the long-honored village tradition of peering through the front windows as they passed while pretending hard to be doing no such thing. Others lingered across the street in small clusters, whispering to one another about the recent goblin incidents and how a shop that had stood empty yesterday now displayed a cheerful little OPEN sign on the door, and no one had seen a thing.
Flu did her best not to be bothered by the cautious curiosity gathering outside, though she understood their trepidation. Turning from her work, she offered her usual beaming smile and a friendly wave. The villagers responded by looking abruptly elsewhere, as though each had simultaneously discovered something interesting in precisely every direction but the apothecary. The little ache in her chest prodded at her sharply. She tucked her hand into the pocket of her apron before its tremble could fully announce itself, and held tight to the smile of someone happily attending to the day’s business.
As she worked, Flu tried to think of what she might do to put the townspeople at ease. So far, she had made a less than positive impression on the village, and she was determined to turn that around. The only question was how.
She slipped through the door leading to the back storage room and picked up another box of stock. On her way back out, she nearly dropped it when the front door flew open, making her jump.
Her eyes flew first to the little bell above the door to make sure it was still attached and had not been launched and embedded in the opposite wall. Then she looked down to the familiar figure standing in the doorway.
“Good morning!” the man bellowed in a tone Flu was beginning to realize was simply his natural volume. “My, my, you have been busy, haven’t you?” the Mayor said with a chuckle as he took in the room.
“Eloise told me you would be moving in this morning, and I thought I might pop in to see if I could be of assistance but it seems you have things well in hand.”
Clasping his hands behind his back, he began to stroll slowly around the shop, reading the little labels adorning the jars, and looking curiously at things like what appeared to be human skulls topped with excessively dripping candles.
“Oh, good morning, Mr. Mayor,” Flu said, trying to coordinate a curtsey while holding a rather heavy box before deciding she should probably set it down first. “What a pleasant surprise.” Her racing heart may have disagreed with the “pleasant” part, but was wholly on board with the “surprise.”
The mayor’s mustache twitched at its rather impressive ends in a way that suggested a broad, friendly smile hidden somewhere behind the thick curtain of hair. Setting the box down on the counter with a thud, Flu turned to him and offered a wide, friendly smile in return.
“Can I offer you anything? A cup of tea, perhaps? I have a lovely blend that is quite invigorating in the morning, if you’d like.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. The last thing this man needed was invigorating.
He continued his perusal of the shop’s many items, pausing at a table adorned with jars of bones and objects floating in strange liquids that most people would best decide to act like they had not seen. “Oh, no thank you,” he replied, turning his full attention back to her. “I just wanted to check in.”
He glanced out the window, his brow furrowing ever so slightly as he watched his fellow villagers outside giving the shop a wide berth. Then he gave a friendly wave to the onlookers, who were doing their best to appear disinterested despite what was, for some of them, at least a third pass by the window. Only then did he turn his attention back to Flu.
“But speaking of, if you have a tea I might make at home to help me relax in the evenings, I think that could be of use,” he said cheerily.
Flu smiled at the request. Her first customer as village apothecary, and she had the perfect blend recipe.
“I think I have just the thing,” she said with a smile as she began gathering jars. Her hands moved with practiced, confident ease as she pulled out a tin and began combining dried flowers and leaves. As she worked, she noticed a couple of children crouching outside the front window, their eyes barely peeking over the sill. The mayor noticed them too and made a playful face at them, causing them to giggle, before a woman, presumably their mother, whisked them away with distrustful caution.
Closing the tin she had prepared, Flu turned back to the mayor.
“I think this should do the trick. I recommend a cup after dinner. It should help you relax and aid in digestion,” she said with a warm smile that creased at the corners of her eyes.
He took the tin of tea from her with an approving nod, then lowered his voice a fraction as he glanced toward the back of the shop.
“Between ourselves,” he said, no longer booming quite so enthusiastically, “how exactly did you manage to move an entire apothecary of inventory into town between yesterday afternoon and this morning without anyone seeing so much as a wheelbarrow go by?”
Flu blinked at him, then smiled.
Leaning in conspiratorially, she whispered “Magic, of course.”
“Right,” said the mayor, as though this clarified matters perfectly. “I thought it might be something along those lines.”
And with that, apparently satisfied, he tucked the tea under one arm, placed a few coins on the counter and turned back toward the front door with the air of a man who had learned exactly as much as he cared to. He crossed to the door and stepped outside before turning back, and in full public-facing mayoral form, he thanked her loudly for the tea before letting the door swing shut again with a small tinkle of the bell.
The remaining hours passed quietly, without another soul entering the shop. Flu reminded herself that these were early days, and as much as she had hoped to be eagerly welcomed into the community, she knew like any decent apothecary that some things take patience and time.
The next several days continued in much the same fashion. Jars dusted, shelves straightened, labels fussed over, and no customers to appreciate any of it. Flu did notice a young girl lingering outside now and then on the bench across the way, stealing occasional glances at the shop as though she meant to come in, but had not yet gathered the courage.
Flu’s first instinct was to approach her with a welcoming smile, but something told her that might only send the poor, already anxious-looking girl bolting, so she left the matter alone.
On the fourth night, Flu returned to her cottage and collapsed into her favorite chair, worn out by the peculiar exhaustion of a week in which almost nothing had happened at all. She let herself rest there for a time, boots off, tea in hand, while the last of the evening settled over the forest. By the time the knock came at the door, soft and uncertain, she had almost convinced herself the day would end as uneventfully as the others.
“Who could be out in the woods at this time of night?” she asked aloud. Pulling on her robe, she lit the candles in her front room with a wave of her hand, filling the space with warm, flickering light and dancing shadows before she opened the door.
On her doorstep stood the same nervous-looking young girl who had been lingering outside the shop, a lantern clutched in her hands. She looked up at Flu for a moment, then quickly averted her eyes.
“Oh dear, what are you doing out here so late?” Flu said gently, stepping aside. “Please, come in.”
The girl hesitated, seeming to silently rethink her decision to visit the new apothecary. Flu waited patiently for her to make up her mind until, at last, the girl straightened with nervous resolve and stepped inside.
“Thank you,” she said in a quiet, anxious voice as she entered, her eyes darting around the room. “I—I’m sorry to have bothered you so late...” She gripped her lantern tightly, still not looking up at Flu, as the door quietly shut behind her.
Flu gave the girl a bit of space and kept her voice soft.
“Not at all. What can I do for you? I assume it must be urgent to bring you all the way out here at night.”
The girl nodded. In the dim light, Flu could see the puffiness around the girl’s eyes and the shakiness in her hands.
“I just… it’s my father.” Her voice broke on the word, as if she might break down right there, but she held herself together. “He’s had a fever for several days. I’ve tried everything I know, makin’ sure he rests, feedin’ him soup, and givin’ him the tea he always gives me when I’m ill, but...”
Flu waited, letting the girl work through it. She felt for her immediately, frightened as she clearly was, and could not help but be impressed by the resolve it must have taken to come all this way alone.
“It’s gotten worse. His skin feels like fire, and he isn’t waking up.” The tears she had been trying so carefully to hold in spilled out and down her cheeks, and she made a small choking sound.
Flu gently took the lantern from the girl’s grip, lest she drop it, and set it on the counter before leading her to a comfortable chair. Her heart ached for the poor thing, so frightened and still trying so hard to stay composed.
“The folk in town said leave him be and let it pass, but it ain’t passin’, and I...” She choked back another sob. “They said yer a witch and I should stay away, but I can’t just sit there.” The girl balled her hands into fists in her lap.
“You did the right thing,” Flu replied softly. “And it sounds like you’ve been doing a fine job taking care of your dad. But let’s see what I can do to help now.”
Pulling a handkerchief from her robe pocket, she pressed it into the girl’s hand.
“First, what’s your name?”
The girl sniffled and wiped at her eyes.
“Petal,” she said quietly, clearly still trying to hold back the flood of pent-up emotion threatening to burst free. “Petal Langtree.”
“Petal, that’s a beautiful name. My name is Flu, and yes, I am a witch.”
The girl let out a small gasp at the words, but otherwise did not move.
“And we are going to help your father, you and me, all right?” Flu kept her tone gentle as she, based on the girls description of her father’s symptoms, gathered what she might need from various shelves and drawers, packing the supplies into a shoulder bag before pulling on her traveling cloak.
Then she picked up the girl’s lantern and offered it back to her.
“You were very brave, coming out into the woods at night to ask a witch for help, Petal. I’m sure your father will be proud of you. So let’s go take care of him. Can you lead the way?”
Petal stood, her legs still a little shaky, but Flu could see the strength in her as she took the lantern and squared her shoulders with a small nod.
Flu smiled, and together they turned toward the door, which swung open on its own. Petal gasped again and looked up at Flu, who only gave a small shrug.
“Told you I was a witch.”
This time Petal did not cringe or shy away, but smiled instead, seeming more certain she had made the right choice in coming here. As they stepped outside, Flu gave the doorframe a gentle pat before they ventured into the night.
Once they were clear of the tree line, the pair left the road to cut through the fields and save precious time. They walked in silence for much of the way, and Flu thought it best not to press Petal into conversation.
Arriving at their destination, Petal led her inside to where her father lay. As she entered, she could feel the weight of illness thick in the room, at the heart of it, a weakening life. Flu took a seat beside the man as he lay motionless in his bed. In the candlelight, she could see the man’s gaunt face had a pallid, dull tone to it, and she could practically feel the heat radiating from him.
On the nightstand she found the usual detritus of illness. Used cloths, a cup of water, an empty bottle labeled Ezekiel’s Miracle Tonic, and several other bottles, used but unlabeled.
Flu observed the farmer, watching him shiver beneath a sheen of sweat, Flu could see why Petal had braved the night to come find her. He was not doing well at all. Sending Petal off to boil water had afforded her a few moments of quiet to concentrate. Her hands hovered above the man, her eyes closed as she let herself feel his energies. There it was: a deep contamination eating away at him from the inside.
There was nothing malevolent in the sensation, which made some sort of curse less likely. It felt instead like one life slowly being fed upon by another, pointing to illness rather than enchantment. She held her eyes closed tightly as she let her senses gently probe the man, searching for the source of the illness. The man’s life energy was faded and weak, hard to nail down and separate from whatever else was infecting his body.
Though the sensations were muddled and difficult to separate she finally began to narrow it down and focus on the source of the illness and once she felt like she had adequately narrowed down the potential problem, she got to work.
Opening her eyes, she reached for her bag and drew out several small vials of different colored liquids, setting them carefully on the table beside the bed.
“Are those magic potions?” Petal asked cautiously from the doorway. “Are they gonna cure my father?”
Flu smiled as she sorted through the bottles. “Of a sort,” she said. “But magic is not something I can wave around and make everything better with. Magic is a tool, like a hammer. A hammer can help you build the house, but the will, plans and effort behind it still has to come from somewhere, and it is still hard work. Magic is similar. It is helpful and a great tool, but it doesn’t instantly solve problems on it’s own.”
Flu picked up two small flasks and measured a little of each into a third, muttering an incantation as she worked. Petal’s eyes went wide as the liquids swirled together, giving off a faint red glow as they combined.
“Can you come help me for a moment and hold his head up? This will help with the fever first, and then we can focus on the illness.”
Petal hurried to the other side of the bed and slipped her small hands gently beneath her father’s head, lifting it just enough as Flu brought the vial to his lips. Muttering something incoherent to Petal, the man responded as if in reflex, swallowing the potion as she carefully tipped it into his mouth.
Flu kept verbally relaying what she was doing as she worked, giving Petal something steady to hold onto besides fear. “The fever is the real danger right now, but this will help. It should also settle some of the turmoil the illness is stirring in him, which will make it easier for me to treat the real cause.” As he swallowed the last of the potion, she motioned for Petal to lower his head again.
Almost at once, the man’s ragged breathing eased, as though some great weight had been lifted from his chest.
“Good job, Petal.” Flu closed her eyes again and held her hands over his chest. The picture was clearer now as she probed him with her senses. The chaos raging in his body lessened, allowing her to focus and differentiate what should and should not be present. Stopping her movement, she held her hands over a spot on the man’s chest, and Petal gasped. What looked like black ethereal wisps of smoke rose from his chest, as if reaching for Flu’s hands.
“There you are,” she murmured to herself as she followed the sickness through him with greater clarity now that the fever was easing. Then she opened her eyes and smiled at Petal. “It looks like he has an infection in the lungs, but I can help him.” Reaching into her bag, she began searching for what she needed.
Some of Petal’s fear seemed to ease as she wiped her father’s brow. His breathing had steadied, and his skin was already beginning to cool. Though she kept tending gently to him, her attention followed the witch working across the bed. Flu moved with steady focus, measuring and mixing with careful precision.
“All right, lift his head once more for me. This will help his body fight the infection, but it won’t be an instant cure.” Again, she poured the concoction carefully into the man’s mouth.
For a moment, his skin gave off a faint glow, and when it faded, some of the color had returned to his face. Flu let out a small breath of relief as she saw her work begin to take hold, though even more heartening was the look on Petal’s face.
As the medicine began to do its work, Flu explained in simple terms what she had done, offering the girl what reassurance she could. Before long, she saw weariness beginning to overtake Petal. Flu could only imagine how exhausted she must have been, spending day and night caring for her father and then braving the woods alone to find help. Now that she knew he was out of immediate danger, that hard-fought resolve finally began to give way to exhaustion.
The girl’s eyes drooped. A moment later, she fell asleep on the stool beside the bed, her head resting on her father’s arm. Feeling her own exhaustion and relief settling over her, Flu remained where she was, keeping quiet watch over the little family until she, too, drifted off in her chair.
In the morning, Flu woke to the soft sounds of the farmhouse stirring back to life. She found Petal already up and quietly going about her chores. After checking once more on her father, Flu explained that he would still need a great deal of rest and had a fair bit of recovering yet to do. She handed Petal a few tonics and some herbs for tea, explaining carefully how to use them.
“Keep giving him the mixture twice a day,” Flu said, tucking the last bottle into Petal’s hands. “If the fever comes back, if his breathing worsens, or if he doesn’t seem stronger by tomorrow evening, come get me at once. I don’t care what hour it is.”
“Besides that, keep doing what you have been. You’ve done a very good job already. Make him broth, and plenty of water. Getting him hydrated is key. He lost a lot of water to the fever.”
As she turned to leave, she was nearly knocked off her feet by the girl hurling herself into her back, small arms wrapping tight around her waist.
“Thank you, Miss Flu,” she said into the fabric of the woman’s cloak.
Flu turned in her arms, looked down at the brave young girl, and stroked her hair. “You are most welcome, Miss Petal.”
When she was finally released, Flu stepped out of the farmhouse and looked around. The scene was beautiful in the gentle morning light that lay across the golden fields all around her. Smiling in quiet satisfaction, she drew in a deep breath of cool air and held it for a moment before letting it go. Nana would be proud, she thought.
Then she looked up and down the road.
“Now where the hell am I?”