Willoughby sat in his garden with a small pair of clippers, gently cutting off various sprigs of herbs for his medicines. There were so many children now, and all with different needs. Even though their conditions were often similar, they were each unique, and what they needed varied. These herbs would be good for peaceful rest and soothing an anxious mind...

Nightmares, as the dryad knew well, came harshly, and to all upon Gaia’s surface. They needed careful tending, and soothing, or they would cause the little ones additional grief...

A bird flew overhead, tweeting, alerting the nature sprite to the presence of a visitor. Willoughby looked up from where he crouched with a bright smile. “Hello, are you all right? Is your father coming to visit as well?”