M E L I T A
Had Melita’s mother been able to cross into the Rift, had they all been given just a bit more time, she might’ve acquired some of the healer’s skills. The only thing truly keeping any of these moments together were her memories of the mender’s hut, the gathering of herbs, the tiny sachets containing just the right amount of the necessary herb. She grimaced for a few moments, eyeing the filaments of plant life in the bowl, then forced her gaze back to the pages of the nearby tome. Had she ground enough? Was this the required amount? The youth allowed her stare to wander along the room again, take in everything, before landing upon a scale nearby. A sigh of relief escaped her lungs, and she grabbed hold of it gently, bringing it back to her chosen spot. There, she could do this. Her thoughts went back to her mother, all the delicate ways she’d poured the contents along the beams, sliding things back and forth until they measured just so, then carefully placing them into the paper packets, labeling them for safekeeping, for anyone who needed their contents.
She tried to mimic them, but she’d always been a poor student of anything subtle; she forced herself to breathe as she funneled the leaves upon the scale, as she transferred the weights back and forth, as she carefully slid them into their chosen papers and labeled them. She repeated the act over and over, far more cautious than she’d ever been on the battlefield, in the shadows, in the waiting grace of the sun. A few slid from her hold and she would scoop them up as best she could, fingers trembling not over the art of warfare, but the fragility of the task – the monumental ways she could ruin things.
Next up was the tonics – and she gathered the necessary bowls and water, allowing them to steep as she proffered a prayer to her beloved family, bowing her head at those precious hours that felt so long ago. Thank you, mother; blessed her for showing her daughter those talents, those skills, despite not being able to employ them well at all. She repeated the prior gestures when they were done, painstakingly dividing up portions, weighing, then sliding into the packets.
