The Garden of Ma'ar

She had made no effort to do more than sleep for the last several days, held down by the residual effect of the mist that still gripped at her mind. Caria had come close to madness, but the little fox that trotted about, sniffing at the air in as much curiosity as she. The woman knelt next to a rather healthy plot of root vegetables that reminded her of carrot. She picked at a yellow leave as one would, and let it fall to the ground beneath the rest of the plant to keep the circle of nourishment going. Then she straightened her form and headed toward a tree that was at the treeline, very obvious and very edible looking berries, she thought, seeing that there were a few baskets beneath that waiting for harvested fruit.

The fae woman fairly floated over and reached up to pluck a berry from the tree before popping it into her mouth. It was delightful. She picked several more before moving on at a sedate walk. She sampled a few of what the land seemed to have to offer, following the newly formed path that led through parts of the island. She claimed a basket from beneath one of the trees and began to pluck things from trees, leaving plenty for others, of course, as was the custom for her people for this was shared food and anyone could take something if they needed.

Soon enough, she found a spot in the shade, bursts of colors filling the landscape as the wild flowers reached toward a thickening canopy. There was a newly constructed bench. She sat and sampled at the variety she had plucked from the plants both in and out of the garden. Her eyes closed wearily, and her fox skittered about as foxes were wont to do.

It was a quiet voice that trickled into her ear as she tiredly gazed off, her eyes somewhat listless with the grip of the Mist still curled around her form. She did not look up at first, but it registered to her that it was a somewhat familiar voice that greeted her. Confusion set in. That could not be... Her eyes lifted to a face that had haunted her dreams for quite some time during that long boat ride. The handful of berries that were in her palm scattered from her hand in her startlement, the fox gleefully taking the cleanup seriously as those berries were delectable to the little animal with the same fiery tone as Caria's.

She stood slowly, but her knees buckled before she could straighten up. That this would still happen even after all the rest she had gotten. She fell to the grass on her hands and knees, sweat beginning to glisten upon her forehead. Now she must be hallucinating, she thought. She had to be.

The redhead pushed herself back to her feet and looked at him again, “I watched you die,” she said upon a whisper. Indeed, she had mourned him so very much when he'd been pushed over the side of the boat some months ago. Her lips trembled. It simply couldn't be.

The woman took a few, hesitant and stumbling steps toward him, then found some inner strength to close the distance as rapidly as she was able. “I don't understand,” she breathed after stopping about an arm's length from him. He knew her name, his voice was softer though, but he looked the same yet the scent of him, or whatever she could smell, was slightly different yet familiar at the same time. She closed the space between them even more, a sob tearing through her throat as she couldn't help but fall toward his form, hallucination or not, his name tearing from her lips as the grief poured from her. “I watched you die..” she repeated, her fingers shaking violently as they reached to trace the familiar angles of his face.

It was him.... yet it wasn't. As soon as he kissed her, her belly clenched with the emotion she felt at being kissed by her late husband. And then after their shared moment and he apologized, she thought he was apologizing for his own death. “Why would I not stay with you? I've loved you for years... You must be a dream... I must still be trapped in the mist...” she gasped and let him go, stumbling back, still unsteady on her feet. Down she went, once again, her face ashen. “We rolled you off the boat when you took your last breath... I don't understand.” Panic took her, then, she was trembling heavily as her gaze transfixed upon him. “You can't be real, this is a dream... It has to be a dream. We buried him at sea. He's been gone for many months. He succumbed to the Mist.”

And then she covered her face and wept, mourned as if the wound had been ripped anew. The young widow took some steadying breaths... In... out... She peeled the fingers from over one eye and looked at him again. “I would never leave you, you're my husband and I love you. But you died, I watched you die... I...” It was clear she was telling the truth of it. “You can't be real,” she whispered, “You just can't be.”

Tears of palpable grief flowed freely from those charcoal eyes of hers, and then... she fainted. It was definitely more the fault of the mist than her hysterics, she was yet weak

She did not stir as he carried her back to the bench and rested her there, he'd be able to feel she was somewhat feverish by her warmth. Her eyes remained closed, and he might notice as a beam of sun hit her face that her veins were somewhat more visible on her face, which was ashen in comparison to before. The lines of grief were slightly etched upon her skin, though not so deep as to label her old. The fox slunk up to her and could do nothing but look on, she knew, and it was reflected within her warm eyes as she gazed at her caretaker.

The fox's head shifted suddenly and the sound of earth underfoot could be heard as rapid footsteps brought a youth with an elder in tow. “I saw her go this way... I told her she should still rest as you bade me to tell her, but she insisted on getting in a walk without company in tow. I couldn't just leave the other—” and then the young man stopped, spying both he and the woman ahead.

He rushed over while Moir took her time since she hadn't much choice in the matter with the gnarled looking walking stick in almost equally gnarled fingers. The youth knelt next to the pair, the fox skittering beneath the bench to get out of the way. She was, after all, a normal fox. The boy, worried about the woman, did not look upon the man at first, “She nearly gave in to the mist after her mate died. They'd only just married... She's very...” then the boy turned his head to look at the stranger, his words trailing off. “Oh... B... But you...” This was a boy who recognized him, but probably would not be familiar. He looked almost as if he could be her kin. But not enough to be her brother... a cousin, perhaps.

Moir, the old crone of the village nearby, finally reached the group of people accumulated and she started to shoo them out of the way, nudging specifically at the boy who skirted back at her command. “Stand back, please,” she murmured to the man she had not yet met since there were groups of Usqueans from all parts of the forest arriving, even from different realms than the others. “Poor dearling,” she crooned, “Lost her husband as the boy just said. She's not yet better from the sickness. Och, I need you to help me get her back to my home... I have not yet gotten your name, young man... Forgive an old woman any formalities for the moment, but the lass needs to be put to bed. Could you kindly carry her?”

She put a hand to the woman's forehead and tisked, “She's warm again. Och, Tobi, go fetch Uma and have her gather things for a tincture. Then I need you to fetch some cool water and a rag.” She frowned and pondered what she could do that would dispel the effects of the mist from the poor woman. Indeed, the prone figure began to stir only a little, sighing and then breathing steadily. She slept now.

Assuming he did as she asked, the old woman led him toward the oblong hut that was freshly built enough that it was clear it hadn't been up for a year yet. A small baby lay in a cradle off to one side, tended to by one of the younger lasses of the village, while a few others lay prone on pallets on the dirt floor. Beds were not yet a thing for them, though there was evidence of civilization building up using everything they took from the island as much as they could without disturbing the way things worked too much. The baby babbled and Moir cooed at her, praising the queen's little one for her beauty. The sick were on one side of the large, one roomed hut while the child was away from them at a good distance, for she was quite healthy looking indeed.

The fire pit was built in the center of the building, not only used for making things, but for keeping the hut warm. The boy was already approaching with two wooden pails that were glued together with tree sap, it seemed if one could even see it. He would set one next to the fire pit, then he would set the other on the table that was being used to prepare things like food and medicines. Currently, another woman sat there, pale herself, but well enough to sit and help prepare food.

Moir gestured to the pallet nearest the back wall where the garden lay behind. She said, “Lay her there...”

After the youth returned, he pulled the old woman away just after the man had spoken of doing what he could. She watched for a moment as he kissed a woman he clearly loved. The boy tugged on her sleeve and brought her attention from the pair to himself. "Moir, he's he husband but I don't think he knows that. We all watched him die. I don't know if he is the same man, but he looks like him. If he answers to the name of Shay, that is him for certain. I wonder if he survived after all... The mist has strange properties, it could be he is a different version of himself."

Moir, startled, glanced back at the pair. They obviously belonged together by the looks of it. She nodded and patted the youth on his arm before waddling back. The cane thunked upon the packed, dirt floor as she approached. She said to Shay, "I don't think she is the same woman to you as you think she is. You've been identified as her husband. But her husband had perished in the mists. Did you survive, then?"

The woman's gaze was curious in their rheumy state. She watched his expression carefully.

"If it is your wish to take care of her, then take her to a hut that hasn't been claimed yet and do so, it'd be better if she was in a less crowded abode. Unless you already have a roof over your head and wish to share your space with her? You must tell her the truth so she doesn't assume you know things from her version of the world. I can tell you that there are many people from different timelines of our forest seeming to come in, as well as parallel situations, perhaps. It's still rather perplexing." She looked over to the girl, and then said softly into the man's ear, "She is worth it, I think. She's a kind soul and it would ease the sting to be with someone she knows in a way. We can take her there if you'd like on a board, perhaps. I don't want her on her feet, she is very much sick and she does have signs of being with child as well."

She and some of the others had been working on covering their supply of plants as a sand storm was about to roll in. They had worked hard for their foods and such but the thought of losing plants to that wasn't doing them any favors.

She was the last remaining at that time. She tightened a few final cords, making sure tarps were secure. The sand was starting to smell thicker in the air so she tied a cloth over her face and moved to sit on a nearby bench.