Healing Goo
two massive, centuries-old tree trunks at a large rock. It pulled a rough layer of moss away and waved Moira towards a hole under the stone. Moira hesitated. It looked dingy and gloomy, more like a dungeon than anything else. Admonitions—mainly from her mother, but also from her guards—about never accompanying strangers rushed through her head, but the creature still seemed friendly, and she needed help. She would not survive if she had to fend for herself on the ground.
She crouched to get through the narrow tunnel, but after a few steps, it widened into an underground room. The room should’ve been pitch black as it lacked windows, but the creature moved its hand and the walls glowed, a soft illumination of warm tones in the room. The floor was moist, cool, and comfortable against her wounds.
“Welcome to us.” There was no joy in the creature’s voice, its shoulders hunched.
Moira stood straighter, as if to compensate. “Thank you.”
She wondered how anyone could live this way, but if nothing else, the years of queen lessons had taught her to pretend to appreciate when people did friendly things. The place was disgusting, but she had met someone who wanted to help her, and that made up for it.
A large wooden table was at one end of the room, with six thick, severed pieces of a tree trunk as stools. It smelled of earth and smoke from the burned embers under a cauldron beside the table. The air was thick and balmy.
“Sit.” The creature motioned to a stool.
Moira positioned herself on the tree trunk stool and let her forearms rest on the table. She expected rough splinters, but the wood was smooth beneath her fingertips. It was nothing like the well-polished furniture in the castle, but she appreciated a display of terrific craftsmanship.
The creature rummaged around in the cupboards and placed small cups on the table. Moira did her best to keep the disgust off her face, but it was difficult when a strong smell, like that of wet fur and moldy hay, hit her nostrils. The creature mixed different concoctions, some a grayish brown and others an unpleasant green, in a larger bowl.
After a while, it picked up the spoon and watched as the mixture dripped into the bowl. Every drip of the dark gray-green goo made a splat, turning Moira’s stomach. The creature looked pleased. It carried the bowl to the table.
“They will hurt a little.” The creature pointed to Moira’s legs. “Not my very best, don’t have enough time for that, but better than they are now.”
Moira stared, one eyebrow raised, and bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from speaking. Things could hardly get any worse, could they? Unless the wounds got infected and you die in a feverish, vomiting haze, protested a voice in her head. She ignored it. As it was, the wounds would probably get infected, anyway.
And did it matter if she died?
Her heart beat faster when the creature spread the disgusting goo over her lower legs and feet. She wondered if she was stupid to believe in the creature—maybe the goo wasn’t for healing, but a marinade before it threw Moira into the cauldron to cook for dinner.
If it had wanted to hurt her, it had the chance out in the woods. No need to invite Moira inside.
Unless it thought it was practical for dinner to walk itself to the dinner table.
The painful sensation creeping up her legs interrupted her thoughts, starting as a sting and growing into a burning, intense pain. Moira grabbed the table tightly, her knuckles turning pale. She moaned, forcing breaths between clenched teeth, and squeezed her eyes shut. Why did she agree to this?
The creature watched her. Did it think she was being a baby, or did it pity her? Most likely the former. After a while, satisfied with the effect of the goo, it got up and hurried away to the cauldron. Moira was certain her feet were going to burn up. It was difficult to imagine a pain worse than the storm, but this was it. She focused on breathing, on getting air into her lungs, despite her tight chest. Changing tactics, she tried to think of her siblings; the sound of Mael’s joyful laughter when she tickled him, and Mari’s dark, wise eyes when they sat at the bedroom window talking. She tried to imagine the pleased grin on Milton’s face when he threw mashed potatoes in the hair of the Queen of Chim… but the all-consuming pain shattered her thoughts.
The creature checked on her at regular intervals. The fifth or sixth time, the pain was subsiding, and Moira became more aware of her surroundings. Her cheeks burned, and sweat trickled down her face. She wiped her forehead and freed locks of hair sticking to the sweat.
“That did the trick, wouldn’t you say, child?”
Moira stared at the creature, wondering if it was insane—then she turned her gaze to her feet. Her eyebrows flew up, and she opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. She stared, trying to comprehend the impossible. Her body had absorbed the goo, and somehow the wounds had healed. Instead of the deep, gruesome cuts, there was now a layer of thick, transparent jelly as a protective film. When Moira poked at her legs, she only sensed the touch, but felt no pain.
“This is amazing.”
The creature gave a short laugh, more like a bark. “We know a little, too.”
“What are you?” Moira asked, but was startled by her words and looked up at the creature with wide eyes. She had no intention of insulting it, especially after it had miraculously healed her. “Sorry, I’ve never seen anyone like you before.”
“Yes, you Aerites rarely walk among us down here. We’re stone trolls, me and my family. My name’s Wana.”
Moira stuck her hand out, and Wana cocked her head, carefully observing her hand before taking it. Wana’s fingers were warm, but her skin was rough, like real bark. “Nice to meet you, Wana. And thank you. For this. It was—I appreciate it.” Finding the right words was a challenge.
Wana’s smile turned sad. “You looked like Wystan. Your hair, and the way you sat curled up… and a grandmother’s hopes, I suppose. If someone else finds him, I wish they take care of him, so I had to take care of you.”
“I can help you search for him.” Moira had no idea how or where she would start looking in the unknown forest. But Wana’s melancholy appearance made her want to help, anyway. Wana’s gesture of healing Moira was priceless for her, and Moira wished she had the money to pay Wana for the services, but she had nothing, not so much as a coin. Her crown was probably lost at the bottom of the sea.
Wana shook her head. “Aerites can’t find my grandson, and people like you should not walk alone in the woods. You should go to the sea before dark. It’s somewhat safer.”
She presented Moira with a goblet of clear water and a bowl of berries. Moira looked at Wana gratefully. How was she so lucky as to meet someone like her in the woods? She picked up the cup, the water cool and fresh, with an earthy undertone. It was the best water Moira had ever drunk, but that might have been because her mouth was as dry as a desert. The blue and red berries were alternately sweet and sour. Moira stuffed her mouth with handful after handful, only then realizing how hungry she was.
Wana’s face was unreadable as she watched, before going back to the bowl in which she had prepared the healing goo. Some remained, and she poured the leftovers into a small jar of dark clay. She pulled a lid from a cabinet and sealed it with a leather strap around its middle, securing any leaks. Then she gave the jar to Moira.
“It’s good to have.”
Moira’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “You’re giving it to me?”
She was certain the jar’s contents were valuable—no cream in Aurora healed wounds the way the goo did. “Are you sure?”
“Child, we can make more anytime. I’ve no need for it.” She pushed the jar firmly into Moira’s arms. “Take it.”
Moira looked at the jar and again at Wana. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” She was curious how someone could be so selfless and help her, expecting nothing in return. Gratefulness bloomed in Moira’s chest, impossible to put into words.
Wana nodded at her. When she started cleaning up among the jars and ladles, Moira knew it was time to go.
“Thank you for everything.”
Wana paused for a second, nodded, then continued cleaning.
Moira crouched through the small tunnel and was back into the forest.
The air was stifling outside. Before long, pearls of sweat ran down Moira’s back. She gazed at the sky, at what little she saw between the treetops, and followed the sun to walk in the sea’s direction. If she had learned one thing while living among the clouds, it was the method of following the sun’s path across the heavens. The sun had long passed its highest point, midday giving way to the afternoon. Moira walked towards the beach. She had no idea what to do there, but Wana said it was safer, and Wana was vastly more knowledgeable about this forest than Moira would ever be. It was much easier to walk with her feet healed, although she was still barefoot.
She wished she could fly.
When she thought of flying, she remembered Wana’s words about Ea.
Ea, beyond the mountains, who might help her.
Moira stopped and regretted that she did not ask the stone troll about Ea and how she could find her. But she had already walked too far away amidst her thoughts. Moira would never find her way back to Wana’s hidden home from there.
She swore silently, but consoled herself. At least she knew Ea existed, and there was still a way to get her wings back.
This was more than what she knew before she had met Wana. And for now, it was enough.