Reaching the healer Kalyna's cottage, Darian knocked sharply on the door. After a moment, it creaked open and a head popped out.

"Oh, it's young Darian," Kalyna said. "What brings you here today, child?"

"It's my sister, Talia," Darian explained quickly. "She's fallen ill in the night with a terrible fever. Ma sent me to fetch medicine or herbs to cure her."

Kalyna's white eyebrows drew together with concern. "Fever, you say? Hmmm. Let's have a look at my stores and see what we can drum up."

She swung the door wide to let Darian into her crowded workroom. Dried herbs hung in bundles from the rafters, giving the air a bitter, earthy smell. Shelves crammed with bottles, jars and boxes lined the walls. Darian had no idea how she could find anything in that mess…

Kalyna hobbled around in search of ingredients while Darian watched anxiously. Healing had never interested him much, but he trusted the old woman's wisdom.

"Yes, this should help," Kalyna muttered after a few minutes. She began mixing pinches of dried leaves into a stone bowl, adding drops from several bottles of liquid. "Ginger root for the fever...crushed willow bark as well...oh, and some yarrow never hurts either."

As she worked, Kalyna quizzed Darian on the properties of each herb. He fetched bottles and handed her ingredients, answering as best as he could.

"This one, boy, what is it good for?" she asked, holding up a flowering sprig.

"Feverfew, for reducing fever," Darian answered promptly.

Kalyna nodded. “And this?” She pointed to a jar of dried leaves.

“Peppermint, for soothing stomach and easing headaches.”

"Very good, very good," Kalyna said approvingly after Darian answered all her question. She stirred the concoction with a finger. "You've inherited your father's talent for herb-lore, I see. And more sense than that scatter-brained mother of yours when it comes to healing, luckily for your sister."

Darian frowned, distracting himself by looking at a jar of medicine to his left. Pride and unease warring between him, Kalyna was known to be a harsh judge of ability, he just didn’t like people badmouthing his mother, but he knew Kalyna meant well, she was just…blunt.

After corking the glass bottle tightly, Kalyna handed it to Darian along with a slip of paper. "Here now, brew that into a tea and have her drink the whole draught. The instructions are written down. It should bring the fever down."

Darian paid her the few coppers from his pouch as Kalyna shuffled him out the door.

"Send for me at once if she worsens," Kalyna instructed. "And tell that mother of yours she ought to come see me herself sometime for a good talking-to about preventative tonics..."

The door closed before Darian could reply. He shook his head with a wry smile. Kalyna's bedside manner left something to be desired, but she was the most gifted healer in the village. Talia would be on her feet again soon thanks to this medicine.

Humming in relief, Darian hurried back home. As he passed by the smithy, the sound of hammer on steel rang out into the late morning air. Snatches of conversation reached Darian's ears from villagers out chatting over garden fences.

"...simply a shame about that family."

Darian slowed.

"No father around anymore to take care of them. I know Mara works hard, but it can't be easy with the two children and no man to provide a steady income…"

Darian's fists clenched. He recognized the village gossip Branda's grating voice. She was speaking to a neighbour over their fence. Anger simmered in his chest, but he could hardly march over and confront them publicly.

"Poor things, yes," the neighbour agreed. "Although that boy Darian seems to provide well enough hunting and trapping. Quite skilled for his age, I've heard."

"Oh certainly, certainly," came Branda's reply. "Still, it's not the same as having a father, is it? I fear Mara is too soft on them. Darian seems far too serious for a boy of...what is he now, twelve or thirteen?"

Darian dug his nails into his palms, straining to hear the rest.

"And the little girl Talia," Branda continued sadly. "She seems a sweet child, but with no father around to arrange an appropriate match for her..."

The neighbour made murmurs of agreement. Darian heard no more as he forced his stiff legs to keep walking. Blood pounded in his ears. It was unbearable. He had never craved a chance to prove himself like this before. And his sister? She was only seven years old, was that even an appropriate conversation?

Sometimes Darian forgot how much the villagers still whispered about his family's situation. They pitied Mara and her children without a man to provide for them.

For most women, it was expected for them to marry young, bear children, keep a good home. Those like Mara who lost their husbands were left in a precarious spot, expected to remarry quickly or rely on the charity of relatives. But Mara worked hard sewing, cleaning homes, and doing laundry to earn them coin, but still the rumours persisted.

Darian forced his stiff legs to keep walking, trying to shut out the whispers that seemed to follow him everywhere in this village.

He had vowed long ago that he would give his family a good life again someday. But hearing that gossip had lit a fire in him hotter than ever before. He imagined setting out like his father had, winning fame and fortune somewhere far from this little village.

Someday, he thought. But not yet.

His family still needed him here. He couldn’t abandon them.

"Darian!" a young voice called out, breaking him from his dark thoughts.

He turned to see Thomas jogging up to him, a smile on his freckled face. Thomas was not just a friend, but Darian's only friend. At twelve years old, most children their age were still just kids - carefree and innocent. But neither Darian nor Thomas had the luxury of childhood.

Thomas was an orphan. His mother had died giving birth to his younger sister while his father was killed by bandits when travelling to the city years ago. Thomas had been forced to grow up fast, shuffled between relatives before ending up at the village orphanage.

"Hey Thomas," Darian greeted his friend.

"What did the healer say? Is Talia going to be alright?" Thomas asked.

Darian nodded and explained Kalyna's diagnosis and medicine as they walked together.

"It's good Kalyna can help her. I know what it's like worrying over a sick sister," Thomas said. His own sister had fallen ill and died of fever two winters ago.

"How have things been at the orphanage, you found anyone to replace me?" Darian asked with a wry smile.

“It's miserable there,” Thomas sighed as they walked. “Cramped rooms, gruel that passes for food. The caretakers don't care about us, we're just burdens to them."

Thomas' eyes took on a faraway look. "I remember I used to hold my sister Lizzy at night and promise it would be okay. But after the fever took her..." His voice trailed off sadly.

Darian clasped Thomas’ shoulder. “Hey, you know you can come over anytime, right? Ma is always happy to see you around.”

"l don’t want to be burden, you know? But maybe you could bring me along in one of them hunting trips of yours? I wouldn’t mind earning some coin…who knows, maybe I’ll earn enough to get out of that place..."

Darian nodded understandingly. "You're never a burden, Thomas. Once Talia recovers, I'll bring you along on my next trip. We'll catch enough game to fill both our pockets!"

Thomas' eyes lit up at the prospect. "That would be brilliant! Just think, our own coin to do with as we please."

The two friends continued to chat about future plans. Too soon, they arrived at Darian's cottage. He could see his mother through the window, tending to a sleeping Talia.

"I'd best get this medicine brewing," Darian said. "But I'll come find you in a day or two about that hunting trip. Talia should be well enough to spare me by then."

"Looking forward to it," Thomas grinned. "Give my best to your family. And Darian...thanks for being a good friend."

"Anytime, Thomas. You know you've always got me."

With a wave, Thomas headed off down the road. Darian watched him go for a moment before turning to enter the cottage, medicine in hand.