The man gasped, clutching at his side as he staggered his way up the mountain side. A benevolently evil witch lived up there, the town had said, capable of curing the drowning sickness. She would never ask for anything. She also might not be home. But he was dying. So he climbed, making what might be his last trek of his short life if she was not there.

  The witch had made her home on the mountain near the town of Seyiki. A mountain, he had scoffed upon seeing it. The only claim it had to that name was that it was a few hundred gwear at most above the rolling hills of Myashinmar. The people of Seyiki had never seen a real mountain before. But then, he also had never seen a lake as massive as the one by the town. He was more inclined to believe it was a sea with how far it stretched, so he couldn’t comment on the naming conventions. Regardless of his opinion of the mountain, with the way his chest was burning, he might as well have been climbing the tallest peak he'd ever seen.

  He could see why she lived there. The lake that Seyiki depended on for food and water was fed by a stream that traveled along the pathway to her house, with trees lining the path on the other side. If the man were to turn around and look behind him, a view of crystal blue waters stretching as far as he could see with a quaint town bordering it’s shores to the east, fields of lilacs, lavender, and oleander to the south, and the rolling green hills of Myashinmar to the west would be what he would be able to admire, if he were so inclined to do.

  But he was not.

  And his strength was failing him.

  He could see the little cottage up ahead, and despite the time of day – late into the evening – there was no fire inside. The cottage was dead dark. Just like he feared he soon would be. His cry of anguish at his misfortune of catching her while she had been gone turned into a cry of surprise as he tripped over his own two feet. The cry was cut short as his head struck the ground and his world went black.

  From the tree line a few paces behind him, a small figure with long, black hair and golden skin watched. They darted forward to catch the scrawny man as he fell, but they were a few steps too late. A sigh escaped the pink painted lips as the figure knelt down beside him and tentatively placed two fingers against his throat. Weak pulse, clammy skin, pale, almost looked malnourished, but they knew better. They had dealt with what this world called the drowning sickness many times before.

  After the figure had checked his pulse – weak, but steady – they held themselves there for a few moments longer, savoring the serene moment of being able to touch another before they lumped the man’s limp form onto their back and stood. While they were neither strong nor tall – being shorter than practically everyone they had met outside some teenagers and younger – the man was light from the degradation caused by the sickness devouring his body. With the man secure on their back, they waddled the last lee up the road to the cottage, and after putting him to bed, started preparing the herbs that would – with any luck – save the man’s life.

  His green eyes fluttered open, a soft light creeping in through the window to his left, and a young girl sleeping on the floor next to him. He wished he had the strength to get up and place her on the bed in his place, but he was weak. Despite knowing he wasn’t strong enough – he’d barely had the strength the day before to get up – he tried futilely anyway.

  And he sat up.

  Shocked, he looked himself up and down, realizing he’d definitely gained weight since yesterday and his skin didn’t look as gaunt over his frame – not that it was of a healthy level, just less than before. And he felt quite a bit stronger, besides.

  He stretched his fingers out experimentally before getting up gingerly. He hadn’t heard that the witch had a child – quite the opposite in fact, she lived alone per all reports, but here was a child. So he did what anyone would do and went to pick her up to put her in the bed.

  The girl woke with a startled scream when he touched her and she scrambled away, looking at him with – was that fear? – in her eyes. This was a reaction he had never seen before, much less directed at himself. Either way, he held up his hands placatingly. “Are you okay?” he rasped, his voice still a little rough around the edges from the sickness and weeks of coughing.

  She responded with a simple, “hi” and after a moment of confusion, the man smiled and blushed, scratching the back of his head as he murmured, “oh, right, yes, I should start with introdu—”

  She shook her head, “sorry, my language’s word for yes sounds the same as an informal greeting in your language,” she corrected. Her accent was strange to the man’s ears. He wasn’t foreign to them as a whole, but this girl’s? Hers was definitely new to him.

  “My, you had me scared that I’d frightened you,” the man said, his tone soft, relieved, and playful. A few beats passed as he awaited a response, and when he didn’t get one, he continued, a little more cautious. “Where is your mother, hun?”

  “She’s dead,” the girl responded nonchalantly, brushing off her brown pants as she got up and looked up to him.

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” the man said genuinely, his mind placing the girl as an orphan. “Is the witch still here?”

  “Witch?” she asked, looking askance. “I am the only one here. Is that what they’re calling me now?”

  “Wait, you’re the one who healed me?” it was now his turn to be taken aback. This small slip of a thing?

  The girl nodded and moved over to pick up a gray bottle by the head of the bed. “It was rough for around a week and I think you almost died several times despite my best efforts, but I helped you. Sorry I wasn’t able to get you up and moving faster…”

  A week? The man staggered as he sat back down in shock and the girl’s eyes widened as she rushed over to him. “Are you okay? Do you feel light headed? Dizzy? Do you need a pot?” she asked, putting her fingers up to his neck.

  He just shook his head, “no, I’m… okay. How long have I been here?” he asked, still a bit uncertain.

  “It’s been around fifteen days since you fell about half a lee up the road. The first week was when you were at the worst, which the head injury didn’t help with. Most of the last week was just spent helping you regain your strength. Today’s the first day you’ve been lucid and it’s kind of surprising that you were able to stand. You should still rest, but I won’t stop you if you want to leave.”

  “By the gods, thank you Miss…?” He trailed off as he asked her name, but she fervently shook her head to him.

  “No thanks, no payment needed. I don’t want to owe you anything. Akai.”

  Owe him? What was up with her? “I… I think I will lay back down, Miss Akai. I think I may be hallucinating.” His voice was dazed and Akai helped to ease him back into the bed, then covered him with a crudely made daisy yellow blanket that barely covers the man. “I’m Agregoph,” the man said placidly as he laid down.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mister Agregoph, I'm in your care,” the witch replied with a small bow.

  Definitely hallucinating, he thought as the darkness pulled his consciousness back to the sleeping void.

  Agregoph groaned as he woke up again, bright light filtering into the room from his left, blinding him through his closed eyelids. He covered his eyes with his arm, not really wanting to get up. If he were to be honest with himself, he didn’t even know how he’d gotten up earlier with as weary as his body felt now, and he’d only been sleeping since then. He laid there, listening to the birds singing their morning melodies, a mix of light chirps mixed with longer, deeper calls every now and again.

  A few minutes later, he heard the soft footsteps of someone approaching and dropped his arm and opened his eyes. The young girl had stopped by the door frame to the small room, holding a wooden tray with a gray jar and some leaves and fruits on it. She kneeled next to the bed, offering him one of the fruits.

  “What is it, Akai?” he asked, eyeing the red fruit suspiciously as he gingerly lifted it from her fingers.

  “Strawberry,” was her matter of fact reply. “Sweet, sometimes sour. Normally pretty sweet though. Didn’t know what you like, but most people like these that I've met. If you don't like, I can get something else for you. It just… may take a few hours.” She seemed uncertain as she spoke, almost as if she had expected him to not like it.

  On his part, Agregoph had never heard of “strawberry” before, much less eaten one. With an internal shrug of his shoulders, he popped the fruit into his mouth… and wasn’t sure what to make of it. He hadn’t really cared for sweets, so it wasn’t like he liked it, but he didn’t dislike it either. He scrunched his nose in concentration for a moment while chewing until he swallowed then turned to face Akai. “It’s okay…” he admitted, plucking another off the tray and tossing it into his mouth.

  “Oh,” her tone had dropped a bit at this, which took Agregoph back a bit. She set down the tray on the solid log she’d been using for an end table and stood, brushing off her pants in the process. “Is there anything you’d prefer?” she ventured, looking down to him in the bed.

  Agregoph hummed thoughtfully, taking a moment to think about it before responding, “maybe some pork soup?”

  “I…” There was a bated pause as she thought about it, then shrugged. “Okay.” She then gestured to the jar, “if you start to have a headache or if pain comes back, that will help. It’s only a single dose, but it should hold you off until I get back and can get you more. It will make you sleepy though. Side effect of both the willow bark and Valerian root that’s used in it. It uh. Won’t taste very good. I tried to offset it with some honey and mint, but.”

  Agregoph tilted his head at her, but nodded despite himself. “Where are you going?”

  “To town. Need to get some stuff.”

  “Do you need any funds? I have some that I can spare, it’s the least I can do for you—”

  “No. No payment necessary.” She turned and started heading out of the room. “Try not to get up, you may not be able to get back into bed. There’s a pot there if you need to use it, but if you can’t, I can clean up after I get back.”

  He blanched at that, “I’d prefer not having a young girl clean up after me…”

  “I’m not a girl,” Akai replied, a hint of irritation in her voice. “Just because I’m shorter than everyone, it doesn’t make me a child. And who do you think kept you clean for the past two weeks?” With that, she left – at least, she left the room. Agregoph could still hear her pattering around in the room beyond.

  “Oh.” Agregoph whispered into the air, a bit shell-shocked at both revelations. He figured he really should have known that she was older than she looked – how could a child have saved his life? But now he was left wondering how old she actually was. And about the cleaning. He only hoped he hadn’t made too much of a mess for her.

  After a few minutes, he heard the door open and her call out something that sounded like eating something? He didn’t quite catch it, but the door shut before he could really respond and he slumped back into bed. He laid there for what felt like three hours thinking about the strange woman who’d been treating him.

  Looking back over encounters he’d previously had with others, he tried to think of even one person in his life who had been like her and simply couldn’t. Her accent was foreign and the way her eyes slanted was foreign, both things he’d never encountered before. Those he’d met with similarly golden skin often didn’t have hair as black as hers, nor as straight, and those that did, were often much darker in skin color besides. Maybe she was from another land? He knew there were lands behind the Mystic Waters, but it was extremely rare for anyone to make that voyage due to the dangerous waters and even more dangerous creatures within. She must have been from there, though. That was the only logical other place she could come from, as she definitely wasn’t from Yurgo.

  Around what felt like the two-and-a-half hour mark, he started getting a headache again, due in no small part to thinking about Akai. By the third hour, it had gotten worse and she still hadn’t come back, so he picked up the jar and sniffed it. Almost immediately he recoiled from the foot-like smell of it. But the pain was getting worse, so he plugged his nose and drank it quickly, trying not to gag. It wasn’t as bad as it smelt – better than some of the remedies his grandmother had made him – but it was still horrendous. He downed the entire contents of the jar and settled back down.

  Not long after, he woke to the feeling of something wet being placed across his forehead and the aroma of a citrusy pork broth nearby. When he opened his eyes, Akai was just pulling back from laying a wet cloth across his forehead. “How – how long was I out?”

  Akai shrugged her shoulders. “Not sure. You were asleep when I got back and it took a couple of hours to make the food. When I was done, your fever spiked up a bit again, so.” She gestured to the cloth on his head. “Do you have an appetite?”

  With a nod, he sat up a bit as she picked up a crudely made bowl full of mostly liquid and held it up to his lips. He took a sip of it, about all he was allowed before she lowered the bowl again. The liquid was flavorful, though there was some spice that seemed to leave a tingling, numbing-like feel on his tongue and his throat. “What’s the spice?” he asked after taking a few more sips that she offered him.

  “Where I’m from, we call it chūgoku sanshō. I’m not sure what it’s called here, but it helps with sore throats. It comes from some trees with a bunch of thorns and groups of red fruits. There’s also bajiru -again, not sure what it’s called here - a small green herb with a peppery smell. And finally, shio, which is… well, salt.”

  He stared at her blankly for the first two ingredients – he knew of the trees she spoke of, but had never heard of them being used for medicine before. He always thought they were just aesthetic trees with no real use, especially since they weren’t ones that he normally saw near apothecary shops. The other one, he wasn’t familiar with based on her descriptions.

  “I know of the… chūgoku sanshó?” he said, questioningly as he tries to replicate her pronunciation of it, and when she nodded, he continued, “didn’t know it had a use outside of aesthetics. I also know about salt – most people do. Not sure about bagilu, though, based on your description.” He continued to sip at the soup though, enjoying the flavors she’d decided to use.

  Over the next few days, Agregoph stayed with Akai, gathering up more strength. He learned precious little about her, not for lack of trying, but because every time he tried to ask about her life prior to Seyiki, she spoke of things he didn’t entirely understand. Sairo, Nomou, and trains all sounded confusing to him. He did find out about an girlfriend named May, but he didn’t understand anything about her world other than it was extremely different from his own. So he stopped asking. The way she spoke of it, it sounded like she was expecting to never return or see anyone from her homeland again.

  And that bothered him, and made him sad on her behalf.

  On the night before he planned to leave, he awoke to the sounds of screams. Immediately, Agregoph was on high alert, adrenaline coursed through his veins as he looked for whatever was attacking his new found friend only to find… nothing.

  Akai was on the floor, screaming and shielding herself against ghosts, so far as he could tell. He approached her cautiously, a tentative hand reaching out before hesitantly touching her arm. The physical contact seemed to make her flinch and shy away from him, so he removed his hand and tried calling out to her instead. “Hey Akai, wake up, it’s just a nightmare.” But his voice was drowned out by her screams. He tried a bit more forcefully, and this seemed to at least calm her down, so he tried to touch her again, and watched as she flinched away from him again.

  He could see her dark eyes opened now, tears streaming down her cheeks, but as he tried to talk to her and was only met with silence, he got the distinct feeling she wasn’t actually there.

  He had figured out why they called her benevolent while he was in her care. The next day, after a sleepless night watching the young woman cry silently, he made his way back to his own village, ruminating on his interactions with her over the past week, and realized, also, why they called her evil.

  There was something definitely wrong with her, and not only did he not know what, but he didn’t know how to help or even where to begin.