Insignia: Scars of Lumierna

Eight

His hand is in his mother's but his eyes are on the mountains, where he spoke to the dragon. No, he had named the dragon. Where he spoke to Ignis yesterday. He closes his eyes checking his mind, he can still feel Ignis' thoughts. He doesn't hear them but knows they are there. They just aren't for him to hear, like watching someone mouth words under their breath to themselves.

He opens his eyes. There's a sparse number of houses outside the city limits, those who need the room for their trade. Stirling's attention is caught by the tanner pulling a goat hide taught on a wooden frame. He's tugged forward. His mother is practically skipping as she guides him down the familiar path away from the city.

"How much longer to the flower lady's house?" Stirling asks.

"It's Faerydae remember."

"I know."

They cross the wobbling bridge and step under the morning glory arch into one of the mystical lands reserved for the tales told by the puppeteer in the town's center. His eyes dazzle as he watches the flowers dance in the wind and the bundles of plants float above his head as if suspended by magic.

"You brought him!" Stirling hears shouted from the sky. He investigates the garden around confused, he knows the voice but he can't determine where it came from.

"Yeah, his arm is healing quite nicely thanks to you!" his mother calls up at the bright green elm tree.

He follows her gaze up to the branches overhead. The flower lady's hair shimmers in the sunlight as she hangs over the edge of a hammock hung between branches halfway up the tree. Stirling doesn't understand why an adult woman is resting in a tree, but he never understands anything the flower lady does. That is the reason he agreed to accompany his mother in visiting. He's always been intrigued by her quirkiness. You won't meet anyone in the market district that relates more to the wildlife around them than their closest human neighbor.

Faerydae swings from her hammock and with the agility of a squirrel, she hops down the overlapping branches until her bare feet stick firmly to the soil beside Stirling.

"My favorite little human!" she squeals, wrapping her arms around Stirling. Stirling "oofs" as he is swallowed up by the tall woman. Faerydae pulls back from the overly welcoming hug and uses both hands to play with Stirling's hair. "Look at these wild curls!" She pinches both of his cheeks. "You're so cute!"

Jannell smiles, she knows there's no containing her wild friend. This is her response every time Stirling has come by to visit with her since he was a toddler. He's never stopped her, even now, he stands politely accepting the affection. She puts her hands on her hips. "You know one day he's going to get too old for that."

"Oh daffodils, he'll always be my adorable little Stirling." She pats him on the head and then raises her hand high above her as if he was growing. "Even when he grows up to be a strong young man."

Stirling stares up at the flower lady with fascination and her playful mannerisms, to her, life is beautiful and each breath is a gift. She can be overbearing at times, like in this moment, but his mother explained the flower lady's reasoning. She doesn't have a child of her own and lives vicariously through Jannell and Stirling.

His eyes remain on her as she kneels in front of him. Her long and slender hands touch the bandage on his arm, her voice now taking on the role of his own mother's. "How are you feeling? Does it hurt? Itch? Tell me and I can fix it." She ends with certainty, emphasized in a nod.

Stirling bites his bottom lip becoming shy. With a hunch in his shoulders, he dips his chin and tells the sprouting blades of grass. "It doesn't hurt much anymore, it kind of itches, I guess."

"Then I've got just the thing." She takes Stirling's left hand and stands back up, she meets Jannell's eyes. "And I can stir something up for you, you seem tired." She turns, pointing her finger at her single-room home. "To the hut!"

Jannell takes Stirling's right hand, careful not to hurt him, and they walk together like a family across Faerydae's garden.

Pulling back the curtain door of her home Faerydae releases Stirling's hand. Hopping over to her ingredients, she runs her hand along the sides of small wooden boxes neatly stacked and organized on a shelf. "Ah hah," she exclaims, pulling one of the boxes free. "Jannell, can you fill that pot with water from the rain trough?"

"Sure." Jannell grabs the small pot hanging from a hook on the wall and takes it outside. Stirling watches in silence as the flower lady, who is beginning to hum and bounce to her own beat, squats beside her small stove. Moving the coals, she stuffs new tinder into the stove to feed the sparks and small flames. She grabs another pot and sets it on the coals to begin warming.

"Here," Jannell says, holding out the pot of water.

Faerydae practically sings the words, "Thank you!" Taking the pot, she splits the water between the two pots and sets the second on the fire.

As if she is performing a dance, her body moves like it's made of water in fluid, rolling movements.

She takes a handful of mint from the previously grabbed box and drops it into one of the pots.

With a spin, she skips back to her shelf of ingredients and grabs licorice root.

She points it at Jannell. "This one is for you, it'll help give you energy, plus it tastes good."

Intrigued, Stirling is practically underneath the flower lady as she works. Each time he has traveled here with his mother, he watches the flower lady intently. What herbs does she grab? What is each of them for? How does she prepare them? Faerydae twirls a knife in her hand and quickly slices the root into even pieces. Without the concern of tripping on Stirling underfoot, she bends and twirls as she steps around him and returns to the empty pot of water to drop the roots in.

"Does mine taste good?" Stirling asks, now peeking into the pots.

"Most likely, mint always tastes good, but you aren't going to drink it. This is going to go on your skin." She taps her right arm, "I'm going to make enough for you to take home in case the itching returns. Same with you Jannell." She talks over her shoulder. "I'll give you all of my licorice root, so you can boil it whenever you're tired."

Jannell leans against the one small table in the room observing her best friend doing what she does best. "You spoil us Faerydae."

She turns to Jannell. "Well, I have to. If I want us all to live a long life together, I need to make sure your health is in tip-top shape." She squats beside Stirling finding his eyes. Her voice is a serious tone he has never heard from her before. "I know you are watching closely, Stirling. Don't stop, okay? Stay curious. Do you understand?"

Stirling thinks he understands her meaning and nods.

She pokes his forehead. "You're a bright kid, don't ever stop learning new things. The shifting of dirt below Jannell's feet means Faerydae has said too much. She smiles up at her friend, apologetic. She turns back to Stirling. "Why don't you go try and catch me a grasshopper before this mint is done boiling."

"Okay!" Stirling agrees.

"Get ready, set, go!"

Stirling takes off running out of the hut. She stands up and takes a seat on the table next to Jannell swinging her legs.

"That's what I'm worried about," Jannell says without context.

"About what?" Faerydae inquires, but she knows the answer. She knows Jannell and she knows Stirling's knack for picking up skills.

"I'm worried that he won't stop trying to learn and expand his knowledge, and you want to know what scares me the most." Jannell turns her head to meet her friend's eye. "I don't want him to stop."

Faerydae squeezes her friend's shoulder. "Then we'll encourage his dreams, but we will keep him safe at the same time." Jannell cups her hand over Faerydae's as Stirling rushes inside with his hands cupped together above his head.

"Got one!" he shouts.

Faerydae leaps off the table throwing her hands in the air. "You win!"