Dear reader, now as starry twilight envelopes my little cottage, I can say it has been a very full day indeed. I only just got back, and I feel so tired. I’ve finished up my dinner of freshly baked bread and buttered mushrooms, and now that I am well fed and contented, I shall rest and dream about my new Impressional magic project: a remedy I want to make for my new friend, Luna.
You see, the little girl I met at Dorothy’s cottage has been on my mind much of late, as I’ve already spent many hours with her and the old witch this fall. Slowly, I am gaining an understanding of healing magic, and I practice what I learn from Dorothy with Luna. My new little friend may not be sick any more, but goodness, she plays like a wild child in the forest, and every day comes back for her meal, covered in dirt and leaves, with scratches for me to heal. With a shy smile she tries to hide behind her hands, she offers me her scraped elbow or knee, and after a few moments of quiet concentration I can close the small wounds as if they were never there.
Luna’s a sweet little thing. She tells me about the birds and rabbits she chases through the trees, and about making mud pies by the stream. She has a rough quiet voice that somehow seems to suit her perfectly… wild but shy. Dorothy told me that Luna and her family dwell in the forest and wander about, living off the land. I had no idea anyone else actually lived in Greenwood, but then again the forest has many secrets. Anyway, I was curious to know more about them, but when I asked Luna she seemed to grow rather sad. She missed her parents. She missed her siblings too, but she said they were all much bigger and stronger than she was. “I hate being the smallest,” she moped, “the runt! And even when I’m a w— ” Her voice faded and she looked away. I was uncertain of what she might have wanted to say, but I understood her feelings. I told her she didn’t look like a runt to me, and she smiled a little, but when she went back to her play she seemed a bit downcast.
So Luna continued to be on my mind, even today when I was at the Well of the Green Sister with Alexander and Lorenz. We’ve started looking over the things in the chamber with the magic mirror, beginning with the many scrolls. They all seem so old, the material worn and brown, and inked across is a language none of us recognizes or understands, though Lorenz did mention something about the markings stirring a memory. As we examined each of the ancient texts with care, I saw how Alexander was taking the lead, asking questions and making suggestions. He seemed so eager and optimistic, and I thought of the frightened boy I had first met hiding in the library. He was growing up. I asked about how his preparations for the exam were going, and he admitted that while he was nervous he also felt like he was on the right path in his studies. He smiled. His tutor was certainly making sure he knew everything he needed to. “You know, you’ve both really helped. Helped me, I mean. You, with your amazing remedies, and Mister Leland.” Alexander nodded towards Lorenz, who was looking over a scroll as we spoke. “My father asks me things now. He listens to what I think. And somehow after last spring, figuring out the door with the bees, I feel like I can do things.” His new found confidence was radiant. Dear reader, I felt very proud.
In the afternoon, after parting with my companions, I made my way to Dorothy’s cottage to continue practicing healing magic. I saw little Luna looking up a tree at a fluffy red squirrel. “I wish I could be up there,” she said as I approached. So I asked, “Why don’t you climb up then?” She stared at me. Goodness, for all her wild play the child didn’t know how to climb trees. Well, it had been a long time, but I still had many a fond memory of sitting in the branches of the old oak back home. So I showed her how to look for the lowest sturdy branch, how to take notice of places where the trunk bumped out, and how not to reach for thin limbs. She looked nervous, but gave it a try. On her first go she fell, but she jumped back up and tried again, not even letting me heal her scrape. I watched as she slowly pulled herself up one, two, three branches, and then looked back down to beam at me. I climbed up myself and sat on the bough beside her. She was overjoyed, and with an enormous grin whispered “None of my brothers or sisters can climb trees.”
Dear reader, I have drawn out the Impression of that sweet smile and I plan to use it as the base of my new remedy: Confidence. I want Luna to hold on to that feeling of climbing the tree. I want her to remember that it’s okay to fall. And even though sometimes we feel weak and small, we can still try, we can still grow. We can learn from others, lean on their encouragement, and in time we might find that we can do things.