The hunter walked into the store, quietly so. The dim light from several candles illuminated the apothecary. Although the place looked quite old, it did seem to be taken care of. Bave paced in, his eyes assessing the visible corners.
There wasn't much but shelves with colorful bottles and jars that contained weird-looking items. For example, there was one big jar, which was slightly reddish, with a very thick root floating in liquid behind the ruby glass.
Bave's herbal knowledge was not extensive, so he supposed it was some sort of mixture to preserve the root. Besides, most of the jars had a similar substance that kept plants fresh-looking.
His weight forced the old wooden floor creak, disturbing the perfection of ambient vibes, whilst he advanced further in.
The hunter finally enclosed the distance from the entrance to the reception desk – alas, there was no one. He felt a bit awkward but mustered a calm greeting for whoever was meant to hear it.
"Hello?", said the young man whilst his eyes were glued to the shelves of books that were behind the desk.
His attention was caught by a few books, at least such he could understand the titles of since many of the reads were in a seemingly foreign language.
A particular book, titled 'The History of Luse', made him stare for a bit longer than he would otherwise. He quickly reminded himself that there was no time to waste, so his voice vibrated throughout again.
"Hello? I am sorry to disturb you. I really need your help—"
Just as he was finishing his last sentence, the door behind him opened with a loud thud.
"Oh dear lord, what is that stupidity! Roses here, roses there! Bloody idiots!", an old lady grumbled with complaints about the upcoming festival as soon as she walked in, slamming the door behind.
She never liked social events, to begin with, and it seemed she was from the type that was never happy, no matter what. A true pessimist that refused to acknowledge the joy of whatever one could think of.
The joy of being alive, the joy of having children, the joy of being healthy – there were many types of 'joy'. However, she never even smiled, let alone persuade the joys of life.
Bave blinked several times as soon as they grew aware of each other. Of course, the room was too dim for them to hold a proper eye-contract, but these two could recognize each other even if the sun left the lands in complete darkness.
"Bave?", she reached her wrinkled had up to adjust her big glasses upon her nose bridge.
"Granny Soh?", Bave squinted his eyes but he couldn't be mistaken.
Her voice, her small and tiny body, and the smell of herbs soaked deep in her skin tissue – it was his grandmother, Soh Vah.
The last time he heard from her was right before he went to train to become a hunter. It has been over ten years, which actually often worried Baht family.
They knew Soh Vah wasn't the type to attend family gatherings but completely abandoning these events was unusual. She probably had her reasons though often irrational.
Perse, she rarely approved of anything or seldom agreed with anyone. If one pointed to the left, she would point to the right – just because!
The Baht family loved her, of course, despite all the disagreements and little misunderstandings they had with her in the past.
"If you are here to tell me that your dear mother wants me to go back to Udeos-", she didn't even catch her breath but began with her negativity, once more.
She halted as soon as Bave raised his palms and tried to pacify her.
"Wait, wait. No, I am not here for that!", the hunter sighed and just before he could blink twice, his granny was standing right in front of him.
"WOAH!", he stumbled slightly backward and hit his back against the reception desk, "Ngh!!"
He had forgotten that his quickness was like Vah's, speak of the Vah's genes!
Ever since he was a kid, his parents kept praising his agility and credited the old Vah. However, that was a typical trait for his mother's lineage. The Vah clan was known for their agility whilst his father's lineage, the Baht clan, were known for their strategy skills.
One hell of a combination. Many relatives actually had placed big hopes in both Bave and his sister. However, sometimes that came off as another type of responsibility they were forced into.
Soh Vah, despite her age, was still agile – opposite of what one would expect from a seventy-five-year-old. Bave always wondered what kind of spells she practiced in the dark corners to keep her body that agile and youthful.
"What is that?", her nagging voice drilled into Bave's eardrums whilst her old wrinkled hands tried to poke at the clay that covered his wound whilst the young man was still gathering his knees straight from the painful bump against the wooden desk.
"It's just a scratch but I wanted to get it examined.", he felt the old woman's black eyes probe deep into his soul; was she happy to see him? It couldn't be, he thought. She was never happy.
"Khm", she cleared her voice and strolled towards one of the dark corners of the apothecary, "Follow me."
The two of them disappeared in the shadows of the evening, leaving the apothecary sink in ambient vibes once more. Even though the faint echo of the creaking wooden floor roamed the empty place, it still created the impression that not many visited Soh Vah's herbal shop.
Bave walked behind his grandmother, wondering how on earth she could make it through the darkness. He himself felt particularly blind in the thick blackness but was perfectly led by an old lady that wore glasses.
It made him question whether Vah really needed the glasses. His occupied mind made him unaware of the past few turns and stairs that led them into the underground parts of the building. Vah stopped before a big wooden door and rustled around her tattered robe, looking for a specific key attached to a key chain with at least twenty such.
Bave couldn't really see the keys himself, as he often joked that the blackness of his eye-color prevented him from seeing in the dark, but his hearing sense was good enough to draw the picture in his mind.
The old lady finally unlocked the door and led him into her underground herbal laboratory. The smell of spirits, cooked herbs, and dried plants hit his face as soon as the door creaked open.
"Come on in!", Vah said in a demanding way as Bave was quite hesitant to walk in. The smell was too strong and he wrinkled his nose as slowly paced in.
The candles were abundant, unlike in the entrance, and every corner was visible. There were jars though not only with herbs floating inside but also animal parts preserved in, what he was now sure about, embalming fluids.
The young hunter, despite his bravery on the battlefields, tried to stay in some far corner which did not look as freaky as the rabbit legs floating in a jar across the entrance.
Bave's eyes kept observing around whilst his grandmother rattled some drawers. She selected a few ceramic tools, to use directly on the scratch, and several small bottles with unknown content.
"Since when has it been bleeding?", she asked as the clay did not completely hide that the scratch was still open.
"Eh…hmm..", he calculated quickly, "Since noon. It's just a scratch though…"
He hurried to say as his hair started to stand from the look of all these items Vah was inching closer with.
"A scratch which cannot stop bleeding though.", she added with eyes staring from under her big glasses.
"Well, I am still alive. It is not poison.", the young man tried to assist with his opinion but Vah disregarded it. As if a hunter could assess as good as an herbalist would.
The old lady pointed to a chair behind Bave and he lowered his tall build down. He watched her set all the objects on a small table next to them, and his strong chest exhaled a heavy sigh.
One could say he was getting mentally prepared. He didn't like herbalists.
Not only they were weird but whenever he visited the herbal shops to get his wounds treated, he experienced more pain than being slashed on the battlefield.
Once Soh Vah cleaned the clay off his cheek, she probed the skin near the wounded area with a short ceramic pestle that forced the blood to run faster. Trails of blood ran down and small droplets started to drip from the edge of his chin.
Bave noticed the blood landing on his pants but it did not seem to faze him. He had seen worse and felt worse. The stinging sensation made him nervous but not really worried. If it were a stranger, he'd probably start complaining.
However, he trusted Soh Vah, and besides, if he whined like a kid, she'd probably comment to further wound his ego. Old granny Vah was a bit too straight-forward even for Bave's understanding of honesty.
"Hmmmm", she leaned closer, observing the color of the blood.
Her creased-by-age hand reached for a small bottle to the side to pour from it in a ceramic mortar. The liquid stank of rotten eggs and Bave flinched. Was she to apply that on his skin?
"Ah..granny—", he was to protest but she rubbed the pestle against the escaping blood and stuck it quickly inside the bowl.
The liquid turned from navy blue to black. Bave did not know what was the meaning of it but if he judged by the look of Vah's eyebrows that formed fine arches – it probably meant something.
"How interesting!", the old lady said.
Bave never saw his grandmother so excited. Was the herbal mix that kept the wound open that interesting?
Soh Vah quickly lost interest in Bave's scratch and reached quickly for a bag with dried leaves that were hanging on the side of the table. Her small hand cupped a handful and dumped it into the mortar. The ceramic set was used to grind the leaves into the substance that slowly became homogeneous.
The young hunter stood there, sealing his lips away as he knew that disturbing Soh Vah could get him an hour-long lecture of how incompetent he was. The man watched her move swiftly around whilst she was mixing different ingredients in that bowl until the smell of rotten eggs disappeared and the color became light gray.
"Now then, you have to eat this!", she pushed the mortar into Bave's hand and handed him a small wooden spoon in his other hand.
The hunter's lips gaped. What was she talking about? There was some weird substance mixed with his own blood, and he had to eat that? The thought of it made him gag.
"Can't you…can't you just apply it on the skin? It's just a scratch…", Bave tried to negotiate but the stern look of his grandmother made him swallow his words.
The uncomfortable feeling in his throat was forming even though he had yet to take the first spoon. In fact, even his palms started to sweat lightly.
However, the underlying fact that if he refused to eat it, his grandmother would probably hit him with the pestle and kick him out her apothecary, urged him to take the first bite. He shut his eyes close and tried to push all his senses into oblivion.
A spoon, then a second, and a third – the quicker he ate, the sooner that torture would end. The man stuffed himself with the mushy substance and his mind went blank.
Curses on that forest dude! For just a scratch, he had to go through all that herbal hell.
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