Shaminah adjusted her posture, trying to emulate the composure of someone far older than her years. She smoothed her skirt and folded her hands neatly in front of her, a faint trace of effort visible in the way she held herself. Her pale face radiated calm as she addressed Wyle, a mischievous boy with unruly hair who sat on the edge of a wooden chair.
"Okay, little Wyle, you're all set. Just don't forget to take your medicine; it will help numb the pain," she said, her voice carefully measured to sound both soothing and authoritative.
Wyle grinned up at her, his eyes sparkling with playful energy. "Understood, big sis Shaminah!" he chirped, offering an exaggerated salute before hopping off the chair and scampering out the door, his footsteps tapping against the wooden floor.
The clinic was modest yet full of warmth. Wooden beams, their surfaces polished smooth from years of care, crisscrossed the low ceiling. Shelves lined the stone walls, brimming with jars of dried herbs, colorful vials, and neatly rolled bandages. A mingling of scents—lavender, chamomile, and a faint metallic tang of antiseptic—filled the air, creating a soothing atmosphere. Sunlight streamed through a narrow window, casting golden highlights on a sturdy oak desk cluttered with tools of the trade. By the entrance, a row of worn wooden chairs invited patients to sit and wait.
Shaminah sighed softly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear before turning her attention to Aldrich, who lingered near the doorway. His tall frame seemed out of place in the small room, and he shifted uncomfortably, his hands buried deep in his pockets.
"Sir, what brings you to my clinic today?" she asked, her tone polite but laced with an undertone of practiced professionalism. She straightened slightly, as if the weight of responsibility demanded it.
Aldrich startled, blinking rapidly as he removed his hands from his pockets. Towering over Shaminah, he hesitated, an inexplicable sense of familiarity striking him.
"She looks like my crush from Earth!" he thought, his cheeks flushing crimson. For a moment, he froze, uncertain how to respond.
Shaminah raised an eyebrow, her expression a mixture of curiosity and faint impatience. She waved a slender hand in front of his face. "Sir? Is something wrong, or are you just here to stare?"
Aldrich snapped out of his thoughts, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm sorry," he stammered, "you just remind me of someone I know."
Her features softened into a faint smile. "I see. Well, I hope they're someone you hold in high regard. Now, shall we address why you're here?"
Clearing his throat, Aldrich fumbled in his pocket and produced a small vial. He held it up as if it were a priceless artifact. "This potion… it's valuable. My master gave it to me, and it's supposed to heal wounds instantly. Do you buy potions here?"
Shaminah leaned in, her sharp gaze fixed on the vial. "A miracle potion, you say?" she murmured, gesturing for him to place it on the desk. "Let's see if it lives up to its reputation."
With practiced precision, she retrieved a small cage from beneath the desk, revealing a white mouse within. Her slender fingers deftly made a tiny incision on the creature's limb, eliciting a sharp squeak.
"Hush, little Fluffy," she cooed, her voice soft and reassuring as she dabbed a single drop of the potion onto the wound. Aldrich watched in amazement as the injury healed instantly, fur regrowing seamlessly as though untouched.
Shaminah's expression turned thoughtful, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Impressive. Where did you say this potion came from?"
"My master," Aldrich replied, pride evident in his voice.
She set the vial down and tapped her chin. "Such effectiveness doesn't come cheap. I'll offer you one gold coin for it."
Aldrich's earlier shyness evaporated as determination took its place. "One gold coin? For a miracle potion? That's far too little."
Shaminah's lips quirked into a knowing smile. "Ah, a negotiator. Very well, ten gold coins."
"Twenty gold coins," Aldrich countered, his tone firm.
"Eleven," she replied, her composure unshaken.
"Twenty-five," he shot back, a sly grin tugging at his lips.
Shaminah arched an eyebrow, a spark of amusement in her eyes. "Fifteen," she said decisively, "and I'll include a year of free checkups."
Aldrich's heart skipped a beat, not because of the deal but because it meant he'd have an excuse to see her again. Realizing he was grinning like a fool, he quickly masked it. "Deal," he said, trying to sound cool but feeling far from it.
Shaminah nodded with satisfaction and disappeared briefly into the back room. When she returned, she handed him a small pouch jingling with coins. "Here you go. Fifteen gold coins, as promised. And don't forget, you now have a year of my care at your disposal. Use it wisely."
"I won't forget," Aldrich said, pocketing the pouch. He lingered for a moment, then hesitated before asking, "Do you know where I can find a place to stay? And maybe a tailor? I… well, I think you can see my situation." He gestured sheepishly at his tattered pants and the blanket draped over his shoulders.
Shaminah's expression softened. "As a newcomer to Brambleford, I'll guide you myself. Let's make it quick, though. I have patients to attend to."
The town bustled with life as they stepped outside. The cobblestone streets echoed with laughter and chatter. Vendors called out from their colorful stalls, the scents of fresh bread and roasted nuts wafting through the air. Townsfolk greeted Shaminah warmly as she passed, their smiles bright and genuine.
"Priestess Shaminah, you mustn't let yourself starve! Look at your pale skin," an elderly fruit vendor fussed, pressing a plump, apple-like fruit into her hands.
Shaminah accepted it with a graceful nod, a faint blush tinging her cheeks. "Thank you, Granny. I'll eat it later, I promise."
She turned and offered the fruit to Aldrich. "Here, take this. You probably need it more than I do."
Aldrich accepted it gratefully, watching the warm exchanges between Shaminah and the townsfolk. "You're quite popular here," he remarked, marveling at her composure.
Shaminah shrugged lightly, her tone tinged with modest pride. "I'm the only healer in town. It's natural they'd appreciate me."
After a short walk, they arrived at the tailor shop. A wooden sign overhead read, "Brambleford Wears," and the building's colorful awning flapped gently in the breeze. Inside, the air was filled with the scent of fresh fabric and the hum of a spinning wheel. Bolts of cloth in every shade imaginable lined the walls, and mannequins displayed finely crafted garments. Behind the counter stood a slender woman with large, furry ears and a bushy tail—a werebeast of the rabbit kind. Her round face and bucktooth grin gave her an air of cheerful mischief.
"Shaminah! What brings you here today?" the woman called out, bounding around the counter to envelop her in a warm embrace.
"Easy, Josephine," Shaminah said, wriggling free with an awkward chuckle. "I'm here to help someone else. This is Aldrich; he needs some new clothes."
Josephine's nose twitched as she approached Aldrich. Her expression shifted dramatically to one of exaggerated disgust. "Oh no, you reek of sewers!" she exclaimed, covering her nose with a flourish. "Go to the back and take a proper bath. Turn left at the hallway—you'll find the bathroom there."
Mortified, Aldrich hurried to follow her instructions, muttering apologies under his breath. As he disappeared, Josephine turned to Shaminah with a sly grin. "Where did you find that one?"
Shaminah rolled her eyes, her voice dry but amused. "He sold me something valuable and needed a guide. He's… harmless."
Josephine chuckled, her tail swishing playfully. "Well, let's see if we can make him presentable."