27th of Spring, 514 AV
One of her dreams was so vivid that she almost thought it was real.
The woman was frolicking through meadows of flowers whilst it was raining lightly on her skin. She stuck out her tongue to enjoy the feeling of the water droplets before she fell to the ground.
She spread her arms out wide as if she was flying and did the same to her legs. She then moved them so that her arms touched her sides and her legs touched each other and repeated this over and over again.
Soon she was humming a familiar song and then her voice carried. She was singing with her heart carefree of any worries. But then there was a loud crack of thunder.
The rain started to our down harder and quicker, stinging the woman's flesh. Her red hair matted to her forehead as she struggled to escape the wrath of the weather.
There was a strike of lightning overhead, causing her heart beat to skip a beat. She didn't know if she was going to survive. The lightning strike was so close, she could feel the vibrations it caused when it touched the ground.
She sprinted until she couldn't breath any longer.
Small puffs of white snow were falling gently outside of the tent. Lenz was fast asleep, her dreams accompaniying the comfort she got from the winter blankets she was snuggled up with.
The sun was shining brightly on her face as she danced amidst the skinny raindrops that fell from the heavens above. She opened her mouth from time to time to catch one on her tongue.
Her ravishing locks of hair coloured like the bloodshed from a battlefield moved as she swayed her hips. Her eyes were closed, but she could see everything; she could feel everything from the sweltering rays of sunlight kissing her cheeks to the wet blades of grass she walked on.
All was pleasant and all was expected.
Her dream was controllable. There were no unlawful twists or turns and there was nothing out of the ordinary that she couldn’t revert back to what she wanted. This was a perfect night’s sleep she had needed for many days now.
However, the child lying next to her wasn’t so lucky.
Ipisol was restless. She had kicked Lenz multiple times throughout the night and continued to do so until the early morning. She wrestled with her blanket and whined and moaned every now and again. Eventually the woman was fed up with the noise and fidgeting. She threw her own blanket off of her head, revealing messy curls of fire.
Although her dreams had been interrupted she didn’t mind much. She was thankful to be reunited with the aspects of reality every now and then, but for the many bells she had spent thinking up wondrous lands and artificial activities, she was happy.
After she had thrown off the blanket that shrouded her legs, Lenz went to administer her comforting aid to the whimpering child. Perhaps she was having a nightmare and couldn’t wake up from it.
She rolled over and placed a gentle, warm hand on the girl’s shoulder. It was abnormally warm, but she pinned on the fact that Ipisol was covered in a blankets.
“Hey,” she cooed, petting Ipisol’s shoulder as if it were a pet. “What’s wrong?”
The child simply responded with another muffled whine. She wasn’t even making any words as if she were trying to scream for help in her dream. Of course all people dreamt differently, but Lenz had only observed people dreaming in one particular way and this wasn’t it.
Upon closer observation she noticed a few large beads of sweat coating her forehead. When she used her hand to wipe the sweat away, it was immediately pained with heat.
Is she alright? she asked herself, truly becoming worried that her companion was ill.
She felt her forehead again to make sure that she hadn’t imagined the sensation. She was greeted by the same outcome as she had before. Ipisol’s head was hot and that could only mean one thing. She had a fever.
Fevers were generally normal for children of any age, but they should always be taken care of quickly, for it wasn’t, the sick individual could contract other sicknesses and eventually burn up to a certain stage where it was very easy for them to die.
Lenz gasped at the thought of losing her only friend to a minor cold. She couldn’t bear to lose anyone ever again, for if she did, her life would be on the edge of severe depression and death by personal infliction.
She had time, but as any concerned adult would be, she was overly concerned and hurried to rummage around in her backpack.
A while ago she had wound up in the city’s library. She had seen all of the books and couldn’t help herself as she took a few off of the shelves and began to read them. One of those books gave detailed descriptions about many herbs. Herbalism, as she recalled, was the art.
Herbalism required using the wide variety of plants, flowers and herbs in Mizahar to produce medicinal aid for multiple illnesses. She remembered jotting down some details about a certain plant that helped with fever and that is why she was trying so hard to find the piece of paper she had written it down in.
She had never actually proceeded in using any special techniques to make the herbal medicine, but she had enough knowledge to help her in doing so for the very first time. Besides, how will know what it will be like until you try it?
After much searching, a piece of paper with so my words scribbled all over it, fell out onto the floor of the tent. She scooped it up and clenched it in her hand with a firm grasp. This was a prised possession to her now and she wouldn’t let it out of her sight.
She struggled to get on her shoes and after she had slipped them on, she had issues in trying to get on her coat. Finally after she was all set and ready to venture into the world outside, she unzipped the tent door and stepped out into the early spring air.
A mild breeze struck her face as if she was being attacked by a whip. She hadn’t been outside in a little while and although it was said that spring brought warmed weather, sometimes that sayings was not fact at all.
The small particles of snow continued to flutter down. They stuck to Lenz’s wild hair as she trekked through the rest of the tent city.
She still held the piece of paper in her hand and her hand was in her coat pocket. She had forgotten her gloves and never owned a hat, so her most fragile limbs were exposed to the wrath of Coldness.
Just because she could, and to try to pass the time, the woman began to sing. Her voice was whimsical and was valued with much hope to her that she tried to sing as much as she could whenever she was feeling frightened or anxious.
Now was neither of those times, but she persisted in spilling her soft and melodical voice to the wilderness.
“Spring’s day shalt be right around the corner,
Summer’s day as well...
Spring’s the season for warmth and such flower
Not one such cold hell…”
Her voice trailed off for a second or two as she passed by the tree where a terrible event had almost ended her life. She had been face to face with a wild wolf who almost stuck its claws in her throat if she hadn’t used her dagger as defense.
She had placed the wild animal’s corpse a little to the north, but as she strained her eyes to see if it was still there, there was nothing to see, or nothing she could find.
So she began to sing again to calm her nerves.
“Once thy plants ripen again so does thy people
Once all has been greened and restored so shall the hearts of all
I can’t wait, oh, I can’t wait, oh, I can’t wait for Spring,
I can’t wait, I say I can’t wait, oh, I can’t wait for Spring…”
Suddenly her footing lost its balance as a twig sprung up from the ground and caught the toe of her shoe. She fell forward, her hands barely stretching out to break her fall. Her mouth was still open, replacing the words that left it with bits of leaves and mud.
She spat out the debris and stood up, shaking off the mess she had made of herself. She was more stressed out than she thought, that or simply not paying attention.
“Focus,” she said to herself as she took out the sheet of paper in her coat pocket. “Focus.”
And then she began to sing again.
One of her dreams was so vivid that she almost thought it was real.
The woman was frolicking through meadows of flowers whilst it was raining lightly on her skin. She stuck out her tongue to enjoy the feeling of the water droplets before she fell to the ground.
She spread her arms out wide as if she was flying and did the same to her legs. She then moved them so that her arms touched her sides and her legs touched each other and repeated this over and over again.
Soon she was humming a familiar song and then her voice carried. She was singing with her heart carefree of any worries. But then there was a loud crack of thunder.
The rain started to our down harder and quicker, stinging the woman's flesh. Her red hair matted to her forehead as she struggled to escape the wrath of the weather.
There was a strike of lightning overhead, causing her heart beat to skip a beat. She didn't know if she was going to survive. The lightning strike was so close, she could feel the vibrations it caused when it touched the ground.
She sprinted until she couldn't breath any longer.
Small puffs of white snow were falling gently outside of the tent. Lenz was fast asleep, her dreams accompaniying the comfort she got from the winter blankets she was snuggled up with.
The sun was shining brightly on her face as she danced amidst the skinny raindrops that fell from the heavens above. She opened her mouth from time to time to catch one on her tongue.
Her ravishing locks of hair coloured like the bloodshed from a battlefield moved as she swayed her hips. Her eyes were closed, but she could see everything; she could feel everything from the sweltering rays of sunlight kissing her cheeks to the wet blades of grass she walked on.
All was pleasant and all was expected.
Her dream was controllable. There were no unlawful twists or turns and there was nothing out of the ordinary that she couldn’t revert back to what she wanted. This was a perfect night’s sleep she had needed for many days now.
However, the child lying next to her wasn’t so lucky.
Ipisol was restless. She had kicked Lenz multiple times throughout the night and continued to do so until the early morning. She wrestled with her blanket and whined and moaned every now and again. Eventually the woman was fed up with the noise and fidgeting. She threw her own blanket off of her head, revealing messy curls of fire.
Although her dreams had been interrupted she didn’t mind much. She was thankful to be reunited with the aspects of reality every now and then, but for the many bells she had spent thinking up wondrous lands and artificial activities, she was happy.
After she had thrown off the blanket that shrouded her legs, Lenz went to administer her comforting aid to the whimpering child. Perhaps she was having a nightmare and couldn’t wake up from it.
She rolled over and placed a gentle, warm hand on the girl’s shoulder. It was abnormally warm, but she pinned on the fact that Ipisol was covered in a blankets.
“Hey,” she cooed, petting Ipisol’s shoulder as if it were a pet. “What’s wrong?”
The child simply responded with another muffled whine. She wasn’t even making any words as if she were trying to scream for help in her dream. Of course all people dreamt differently, but Lenz had only observed people dreaming in one particular way and this wasn’t it.
Upon closer observation she noticed a few large beads of sweat coating her forehead. When she used her hand to wipe the sweat away, it was immediately pained with heat.
Is she alright? she asked herself, truly becoming worried that her companion was ill.
She felt her forehead again to make sure that she hadn’t imagined the sensation. She was greeted by the same outcome as she had before. Ipisol’s head was hot and that could only mean one thing. She had a fever.
Fevers were generally normal for children of any age, but they should always be taken care of quickly, for it wasn’t, the sick individual could contract other sicknesses and eventually burn up to a certain stage where it was very easy for them to die.
Lenz gasped at the thought of losing her only friend to a minor cold. She couldn’t bear to lose anyone ever again, for if she did, her life would be on the edge of severe depression and death by personal infliction.
She had time, but as any concerned adult would be, she was overly concerned and hurried to rummage around in her backpack.
A while ago she had wound up in the city’s library. She had seen all of the books and couldn’t help herself as she took a few off of the shelves and began to read them. One of those books gave detailed descriptions about many herbs. Herbalism, as she recalled, was the art.
Herbalism required using the wide variety of plants, flowers and herbs in Mizahar to produce medicinal aid for multiple illnesses. She remembered jotting down some details about a certain plant that helped with fever and that is why she was trying so hard to find the piece of paper she had written it down in.
She had never actually proceeded in using any special techniques to make the herbal medicine, but she had enough knowledge to help her in doing so for the very first time. Besides, how will know what it will be like until you try it?
After much searching, a piece of paper with so my words scribbled all over it, fell out onto the floor of the tent. She scooped it up and clenched it in her hand with a firm grasp. This was a prised possession to her now and she wouldn’t let it out of her sight.
She struggled to get on her shoes and after she had slipped them on, she had issues in trying to get on her coat. Finally after she was all set and ready to venture into the world outside, she unzipped the tent door and stepped out into the early spring air.
A mild breeze struck her face as if she was being attacked by a whip. She hadn’t been outside in a little while and although it was said that spring brought warmed weather, sometimes that sayings was not fact at all.
The small particles of snow continued to flutter down. They stuck to Lenz’s wild hair as she trekked through the rest of the tent city.
She still held the piece of paper in her hand and her hand was in her coat pocket. She had forgotten her gloves and never owned a hat, so her most fragile limbs were exposed to the wrath of Coldness.
Just because she could, and to try to pass the time, the woman began to sing. Her voice was whimsical and was valued with much hope to her that she tried to sing as much as she could whenever she was feeling frightened or anxious.
Now was neither of those times, but she persisted in spilling her soft and melodical voice to the wilderness.
“Spring’s day shalt be right around the corner,
Summer’s day as well...
Spring’s the season for warmth and such flower
Not one such cold hell…”
Her voice trailed off for a second or two as she passed by the tree where a terrible event had almost ended her life. She had been face to face with a wild wolf who almost stuck its claws in her throat if she hadn’t used her dagger as defense.
She had placed the wild animal’s corpse a little to the north, but as she strained her eyes to see if it was still there, there was nothing to see, or nothing she could find.
So she began to sing again to calm her nerves.
“Once thy plants ripen again so does thy people
Once all has been greened and restored so shall the hearts of all
I can’t wait, oh, I can’t wait, oh, I can’t wait for Spring,
I can’t wait, I say I can’t wait, oh, I can’t wait for Spring…”
Suddenly her footing lost its balance as a twig sprung up from the ground and caught the toe of her shoe. She fell forward, her hands barely stretching out to break her fall. Her mouth was still open, replacing the words that left it with bits of leaves and mud.
She spat out the debris and stood up, shaking off the mess she had made of herself. She was more stressed out than she thought, that or simply not paying attention.
“Focus,” she said to herself as she took out the sheet of paper in her coat pocket. “Focus.”
And then she began to sing again.