#adversitiesflower

“Nothing could stop you from becoming a sailor H’aanit, Linde would make a good ship cat.”

Alfyn smiled sympathetically. It made sense, really.

The wound caused by Simeon had yet to finish healing. Until then they dared not approach Everhold, which had the two of them resting on their laurels at the inn while H’aanit and Ophilia did a supply run and Tressa dragged the other boys to the merchant’s fair.

Alfyn kept a distant eye on the wound. Naturally, Primrose was more comfortable with Ophilia looking after it. But Alfyn did all the planning and instruction for its practical treatment. A wound so severe wasn’t wont to respond well to magic healing. It could be used for its emergency treatment, but the full recovery had to be done naturally.

And Primrose probably hadn’t been sleeping well. After what had happened, Alfyn hadn’t been either. He thought of how she must have been afraid she would die, bleeding out alone, how her trust was betrayed by someone so obviously dear to her.

It made his insides boil. He’d get a hell of a right cross in on Simeon if it was the last thing he did.

“Doesn’t look like you’re ice skating to me Primrose. Holding onto Ophilia doesn’t count.”

The festival was lively here. The townspeople were friendly and shared all they had with the travelers, and Alfyn was grateful as anyone. 

He’d even found himself with a couple of young ladies vying for him to dance with them. And he hadn’t danced at a festival in a long time, not since leaving Clearbrook. So of course he accepted, making friendly conversation all along until he grew tired enough to return to the sidelines for a drink.

And there was Primrose, in the same seat she had occupied when he left, nursing her own drink. She looked almost broody, Alfyn thought, but then she could be hard to get a handle on.

Alfyn smiled sympathetically. It wasn’t a bad fracture, but the nature of it meant it had to settle before a healing spell could be used to accelerate the recovery. That was his job.

He finished taping and wrapping the splint. “Well, it ain’t like I’m not grateful for that.” He said gently, “You know we’d do the same for you in a heartbeat. But it might do to misdirect an attack with sommat other than your hand next time.”

His tone was lightly scolding, but his eyes twinkled. If there was anything that could get Primrose to lose her composure it was any of her friends being in the line of fire. He knew that, and he appreciated that she cared for them all so much.

“Leastways it ain’t your leg that got hurt.” he added as he put the rest of his supplies away, “Then you’d be stuck in bed for a tick, and I know you’d hate that...come on, we oughtta hurry up an’ catch up with the others ‘fore they get to the tavern and drink it dry without us.”

There was a lot to be said for the herbalist’s shops in Grandport, and as always Alfyn was impressed by their stock.

After all was said and done for everyone, Primrose and he had fallen into traveling together- Alfyn still wanted to work on the road, and Primrose needed some time to collect herself before returning to Noblecourt- or wherever she decided to settle. Things were always easier with a friend, so they had just tagged along with each other.

He did some teaching with her, helped her learn some basics of the apothecary trade. It gave them each something to do, and Alfyn a helping hand when there were a lot of patients to look after.

Now she was off having a bit of her own shopping while Alfyn restocked their medicinal supplies. As good friends as they were, they couldn’t do everything together. He supposed he would see her again at the plaza once she was done.

Alfyn hadn’t expected Primrose to be so thrown by the suggestion. She’d thought about it- hadn’t she said that?

And he had, too. Lots of times, really, but he was too shy and inexperienced to have initiated anything yet. He still sweated bullets whenever he leaned in to kiss her. It was a mix of being scared to mess up and still being shocked that she felt something for him.

he lifted a hand to place it over hers on his cheek. “I know,” he said, sagging a little. Her touch could be either relaxing or maddening- right now it was the former. 

“I know,” he repeated, “But, just, ya know...we ain’t ever gonna move forward if we don’t talk about it, I guess?”

That was right. He might not have been ready to pursue that path directly yet, but he was ready to discuss it. And wasn’t it important to communicate honestly?

Alfyn, by his admission, had faced less hardship than many of his friends. But the haunting of his childhood illness was still a painful one, a terrifying one. The blood bubbling up through his throat. The searing, cracking, burning pain from his side to his lungs. The terrible hallucinations.

But Primrose awoke him. It was not always easy to rouse Alfyn from one of these horrid dreams, but her touch always calmed him regardless. He felt her lips, heard her voice, and stilled himself. He drew in a deep breath.

A dream, his foggy mind slurred, just a dream. Primrose- his Primrose was whispering softly into his ear. Sleep sweetly, she said, but he was already roused.

His eyes fluttered open. They’d nodded off sitting against a tree by their campfire, out on the road in the Woodlands north of Victor’s Hollow, their next destination. He blearily looked into Primrose’s eyes and sat forward to stretch his back and shoulders. The fire crackled still. He had been asleep only a few hours and morning was still a few more away. The sun would not join them for the day for some time yet.