Cytherea's visits to town were always quick, and un-interrupted.  She never once took the chance to draw unnecessary attention to herself.  The rumors were enough to keep others a safe distance.  But from who?  Her from them?  Or them from her?  She gives a soft smile giving into the joke that must be there somewhere.  But with the secret agreements between the villagers and her.  She won't dattle to much longer.  She had a life to live as well.  Wood to chop.  A fence to mend.  The life of a healer.  "What fools us mortals be,"   she said to her self, as she made her way out of town back to the bridge that crossed the river that led her to the path that led her home.  With her leather bag full of goods, and her gold coin purse empty.  There was always just enough.