Waithe narrowed his eyes as he took in the darkening western sky. "We do not want to be on this ridge when that storm hits. Let us find shelter in the valley below."

Thick gray clouds tinged with green and dark blue boiled in the distance, dragging along curtains of rain below them. A deep rumble rolled through the valleys and up the slopes. A chilled moist wind led the way, causing the travelers to pull tight their cloaks. They wound their way down switchbacks on a narrow rocky path.

The storm overtook them before they reached the trees. Bright streaks of lightning and booming thunder announced its arrival. A fierce wind hammered cold rain and stinging sleet against the riders. Eira crouched within Waithe's protective arms as he struggled to rein in his fearful horse. Ceres and Alden held hands as they rode side by side.

They could barely see the farmhouse as they approached it, nor the man who stood on the porch waving an arm back and forth. As they approached he yelled over the howling winds. "Come! Take shelter!"

The man led them to a barn behind the house and helped them secure the horses among the other animals it protected. "A monster this storm be. You be welcome to wait it out within my home."

Waithe grasped the man's callused hand. "You be most kind, sir."

They shook the water from their cloaks as they entered the house. A gust of wind slammed shut the door behind them. The man pulled back his hood to reveal white hair, a wrinkled face, and lively eyes that projected the same kindness as his actions. Waithe, Alden, and Eira pulled their hoods back and removed their cloaks, but Ceres did not.

He motioned them further within. "Come. Sit down by the fire and warm yourselves. It be not fit outside for man nor beast."

The walls of the log home muted the storm's rage, keeping its occupants apart from it except for the patter of water dripping down from the peaked ceiling into two pots on the floor. While modestly appointed, this house had a cozy feeling of home. A pair of candles and the fireplace provided a comforting flickering light. Waithe sat in one of the rickety rocking chairs while the others sat on the rug before a rock fireplace, flames crackling within it. Wisps of steam rose from a cast-iron kettle perched on a grate above the fire.

The old man poked the fire. "The water be hot, care ye' for some tea?"

Waithe nodded. "Aye. You be most hospitable, sir, and we be grateful to be out of that storm."

The old man waved his hand as if to dismiss the gratitude while he fetched a teapot and poured steaming water from the kettle into it. "It be nothing. The Creator God calls us all to compassion."

"Aye. And yet such active kindness be all too rare. What be your name, sir?"

"Galen, friend."

Waithe bowed slightly. "I be Waithe, and with me my daughter Aala, granddaughter Eira, and friend Alden."

Galen bowed in return. "Family be a precious blessing. We have two grandchildren with my daughter and her husband in Welde. Our son..." He shook his head. "He be in Lord Scias' army, caught up like so many young men in the conscription."

Waithe caught Ceres' gaze. He knew what her thoughts would be. Scias did indeed build a huge army. But the soldiers were not necessarily villainous, many would be sons of such compassionate men.

Galen poured hot tea into pottery cups and distributed them. Eira lifted her cup to take a drink, but Ceres stopped her. "Careful, little girl, it is hot. Let it cool." She gently blew across the top of the hot liquid, Eira copied her action.

A strained voice came from an open door. "Galen, who be there with you?"

He yelled back. "Travelers, Greta. They shelter from the storm."

"Well did you offer them some tea?"

Galen smiled and shook his head. "Of course, my dear. Would you like a cup as well?"

"Aye--" A series of hacking coughs took her voice for a moment. "That would be lovely."

Galen tilted his head toward the door as he poured another cup. "My wife, she be quite ill."

Ceres tilted her eyes up toward Waithe, he nodded to her unspoken request. She said, "Perhaps I may help her be well?"

He lowered his head. "If only you could, my friend. The healers tell of tumors that would take her. She be in the Creator's hands now."

Ceres shuffled Eira from her lap and stood, pulling back her hood. "Healing is my gift, sir."

Galen's eyes grew wide as he gazed at the mark of the Order on her neck. He stammered, "Praise be... My Lady, would you?"

"I would try."

Galen led them into the bedroom. His wife laid on a thin feather mattress atop a wooden platform with a blanket pulled up to her waist. She groaned as she tried to sit up to her visitors. Failing that, she plopped back down. Tangled gray hair surrounded a pale wrinkled face, but she had the same kind eyes as her husband.

An elation laced Galen's words. "Greta, this woman... She be of the Order of Medice! She would bring healing to you!"

Greta's dropped her jaw. "Could it be?"

Ceres put her hand on the old woman's shoulder. "I shall try. My name is... Aala. Do you know of the Spirits?"

"I have heard of such, but never seen."

"I shall call Myr, the Spirit of small life. She is best for curing disease." She sat on the edge of the bed and motioned for Eira to join her. "My daughter."

With one hand, Ceres took hold of the old woman's hand, and with the other, Eira's hand. Galen came around the other side of the bed and took Greta's free hand into both of his. Ceres closed her eyes and began to hum softly. Nearly immediately Myr's umber light appeared, sparkling as she slowly circled above the bed. Greta and Galen's eyes widened as they tracked the Spirit.

A green light emerged beside the umber light and they circled together.

Ceres opened one eye and said to Eira, "Did you call Phy?" The little girl nodded her head. Ceres raised her eye up to the Spirits. "Very well, Phy. You may stay and help, but you must be nice."

She closed her eye again and a shimmering cloud of lights appeared above the old woman. Greta's face lit up in a smile as the Magic shrouded her.

Ceres kept her eyes closed and took a deep breath. "The tumors be deep. This shall take a few moments."

As the Magic continued to swirl about Greta a new vision came to Waithe. He closed his eyes and smiled as it did. This one came from Ceres' memories.

Ceres pulled the hoe through the loose soil, tearing out the plants that should not be in the garden, but leaving the ones that should. She lifted her straw hat to wipe the sweat from her brow. It was hot work, but she did not mind so much. The flowers and vegetables were growing nicely, many of which she planted and nurtured herself. Something about working with plants gave her a sense of joy, despite the hard work.

Her master and mistress made her work hard, but they were fair and provided for her needs. Mistress even took a liking to her, sometimes allowing access to a library full of wonderful books. Ceres looked forward to her eleventh birthday in two days, or rather the day she had chosen as a birthday, for she did not know what day it actually was. Mistress said she could have the day off and read as much as she liked in the library.

Ceres jumped back as a pulsing green light popped into existence above her, bright enough to be seen in the morning sunshine. She giggled as it sparkled and danced around, bobbing back and forth, then settled just before her as if looking into her eyes. Ceres tilted her head. Was this a Spirit, like she read about in some of the books? It talked to her, but not with words, rather with thoughts in her mind. Ceres smiled. This Spirit liked gardening too!

As the shimmering magic faded away, Ceres looked up at the two spirits floating above her. "Thank you, my dear friends."

Alden helped Ceres and Eira stand up and supported them with his arms as they wavered.

Color returned to the old woman's face as she gazed up at her husband. She placed a hand on her chest and took a deep breath. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Galen seemed dumbstruck as well.

Ceres squeezed Greta's hand. "The tumor is gone, but you will still be weak. Once the storm lets up, we may retrieve a tonic from my saddlebag that shall strengthen you."

Waithe grinned. "Be warned, though. Most disagreeable be the taste of her medicinal teas."

Ceres turned to the old man. "Oh, and Galen, I also cured an abscess in your jaw, it should feel better now. I hope you do not mind."

Galen rubbed his jaw and smiled. He dipped his head. "The Creator God has blessed us beyond measure through you, my Lady. You be an angel."

Ceres shook her head. "I am no angel, sir. But perhaps the Creator has indeed blessed me. By your kindness, we are sheltered from a raging storm." She pulled Eira to her and then caressed Alden's cheek while looking up into his eyes. "And you remind me that despite the Darkness in this world, there always is love."