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</div></div><br/>Aelia knew where each herb grew in the forest, and dreamer’s wish was one of the ones she loathed getting. It wasn’t too far from her house, but it was too close to the dark forest, where horrible sounds could be heard, screams and cries of creatures that did not venture out of the darkness that reeked of death. If dreamer’s wish hadn’t been running so low, she would not have bothered hiking up so close. She’d heard rumours of all sorts of creatures within the dark woods, goblins, lamia, orcs, werewolves... Aelia hoped that she would never come face to face with anything from that part of the forest.<br/><br/>Her string bag was full when she heard the first sounds of something crashing through the woods, branches cracking underfoot and leaves rustling. Aelia grabbed her bag and turned, ready to run for the brighter, friendlier areas of the forest. Then she saw someone fall, and the barest call for help carried on the wind. It wasn’t a creature she had heard, it was a person, an injured person. For a moment she hesitated, wondering if it was a trick, that if she went to the body the monster would take her. The moment passed, and she was running to the unconscious figure, turning him around and looking at his injuries. She swore quietly, and darted off to the rock formation to her right, and peeled off bloody red moss from the damp underside. She chewed on it as she made her way back, making it into a paste that she stuffed into the worst wounds that she would see.<br/><br/>Aelia swore again as she lifted the man, barely able to manage his weight. The two mile walk home was the hardest walk she’d ever done, stumbling and falling and trying not to drop the man as she navigated the uneven forest floor. There was a lot of swearing involved, and by the time she saw her cottage, she was drenched in sweat. She knew the next part off by heart. She stripped the man down to his waist and dropped him in her bed, cleaning the bloodmoss from the wounds and then disinfecting and cleaning the wounds. Her hands were steady as she began to sew the unconscious man back together. She was a healer, a wise woman, and she was good at what she did.<br/><br/>When the man was stitched up and bandaged, Aelia took a step back and allowed herself to breathe. The man would live. She bathed in the nearby stream to remove the man’s blood and her sweat from her skin, and dressed in a clean dress before returning to her little cottage. When the man awoke he would be in pain, so Aelia grabbed her pestle and mortar, and began grinding willow bark in with various other herbs and plants. Her hands shook a little as she worked. They were not the worst injuries that had been brought to her, but she had never had to drag an unconscious man back for treatment. It had scared her.