The sound of chopping, slow and methodical, echoed in her kitchen as Mira carefully prepared the ingredients for her soup.
"Why so much?" asked the rabbit, standing on her back feet and peeking up at the counter.
"I want there to be enough if we have guests, and soup is good on a rainy day."
"How do you know it's going to rain?" asked the rabbit, tilting her head to the side.
"I can feel it," she said with a smile.
The rabbit grumbled something under her breath and settled back down on the floor. It was so cat-like, Mira almost expected her to start licking herself.
"You know, it was raining when I first met you," mused Mira, dumping the last of the ingredients into the pot and giving it a slow stir.
"Perhaps when you first met me, but it wasn't the first time I saw you," sighed the rabbit, moving over to the hearth and watching as she put the soup pot over the fire.
"When did you start watching me?" asked Mira, moving back to the counter to clean up.
A slow rumble of thunder echoed in the distance and the sound of rain began to drum on the roof.
"After your parents died," said the rabbit, giving herself a shake and flopping down. "Those who struggle with great difficulties early in life are always more prone to the use of magic. I think it's the tragedy."
"It's awful," sighed Mira, picking up her tea cup and moving to her chair. "Why did you wait so long to talk to me? I could have used a friend at the time."
"There's a time and place for everything," yawned the rabbit.
"I should put a good thick towel by the door," mused Mira, sipping her tea. The smell of mint and other herbs drifted up from her cup.
"Why are you so certain anyone will show up?"
"If someone does, I am prepared. If not, there's no harm," chuckled Mira, finishing her tea and then pulling her thick blanket up, tucking it under her legs and settling back in her chair for a nap.
A loud peal of thunder shook the small cottage, waking Mira just as a feeble knock could be heard on the door. Giving the rabbit a smug look, she climbed out of her chair and made her way to the door.
Soaking wet, the tiny girl stood shivering on her doorstep.
"Come inside and let's get you dried off," said Mira, stepping back and grabbing the thick towel that was on the hook next to the door. She knew she hadn't put it there but didn't say anything about it as she helped the girl take off her sopping clothes and wrapped her in the towel.
"Sit by the fire and I will get you a bowl of warm soup," shooed Mira, grabbing a bowl off the shelf over her sink and a spoon.
"You knew I was coming?" asked the girl in amazement, her teeth chattering nonstop as she settled so close to the fire the towel threatened to catch fire.
"It was a day just like this when I first stumbled into the forest and found this cottage," said Mira softly, handing the girl the bowl of soup.
The girl's eyes couldn't get any wider as she stared up at her.
"I was in my tiny garden outside my aunt's house when the fire started. I never found out how it started, only that it moved quickly. Far quicker than my aunt could…"
The girl settled in as Mira's story continued.
The flames had been so hot, her skin felt tight. When the rain started Mira had thanked the gods, thinking it would put out the fire, but that fire was hot. Hotter than the cool of the rain drops. Faster they came down, until sheets of water fell from the sky and finally, as the light faded from the sky, the last of the smoke finally drifted away.
No one from the village had come to help. She stood there, soaked to the bone, shivering uncontrollable, with tears trailing down her face mixing with the droplets of rainwater. Debris from the house littered the ground all around her where it had fallen during the blaze. Her aunt had been inside. Her mind knew she was gone, but all she could think was that she was alone again.
Thunder chased her as she fled into the forest. It was the only place she had ever felt welcome. The trees slowed the rain but she didn't feel the cold. It was fate that she found the cottage. When she knocked on the door, an old woman opened it and welcomed her in. The inside smelled of herbs and warm soup.
"I don't remember how long I stayed before I was able to do anything other than sleep and eat."
"You lost your parents, too?" whispered the girl, drawing her out of her memories.
"Oh, yes, the year before they both died when their horse slipped on some ice and fell on them. I moved in with my aunt, but she never really wanted me."
Mira stared at the fire, lost in her thoughts for a moment before continuing.
"When I was conscious of more than just surviving, the old woman, Vraela, started to take me on walks through the forest."
There were soft patches of clover that were perfect for sitting on and listening to the trees whisper to each other. Their branches grasping for each other as they danced gently in the soft breezes. Mira learned that the trees didn't care about her tears and she could tell them whatever she needed to let out.
Flowers and herbs that grew deeper in the forest helped give her purpose as she struggled with the loss of the last of her family. The solitude of the forest calmed her nerves and taught her peace. The dangers of the forest, that she had always heard about from the villagers, stayed away from her while she was with Vraela, the old woman.
She found a new home in the cottage, content to remain there for the rest of her days, but Vraela had other ideas. It was a hazy morning, already promising a heat to rival the sun, when the old woman pointed at the door.
"You need to go back, let them see that you're still alive."
"Why?" she asked, looking up anxiously into the wrinkled old face.
"If you don't face that fear soon, you never will," she said softly, touching Mira's hair as she made her way to the kitchen counter. "There are herbs here you could trade for things you miss."
Tears welled in her eyes, as Mira realized she hadn't been able to hide how much she missed certain things. The old woman was too perceptive.
"Will you go with me?" she whispered.
"No, this is a task for you alone. Besides, they fear me more than the forest itself."
"But why?" asked Mira, confused. How could anyone fear this kind old woman who was nicer than anyone else she had ever met.
"Fear can cloud a person's eyes just as easily as it can their minds. Once they decide something, it is very difficult to convince them otherwise."
"I don't understand," the girl said, shaking her head.
"One day you will," answered Vraela with a sad smile.
Taking the herbs as instructed, Mira made her way into the village. It was quiet as many had already finished their tasks for the day and were hiding from the building heat. The few people still in the main square were hiding in doorways and slivers of shadow. They halted their conversations as she approached, holding up her basket of herbs.
"Would anyone be interested in some herbs?" she asked softly, her words trying to stick in her dry throat. The beating of her panicked heart was certainly heard by all of them as they glanced at her basket briefly and settled their probing eyes on her.
"Where have you been child?" asked one man gruffly, seeming to realize who she was.
"Why did you burn down that house?" asked a woman, sniffing the air as if she could still smell the smoke.
"Your aunt wasn't that bad of a person, that you had to go and end her," chided another woman, glaring at her.
"What?" stammered Mira, horrified at the accusations, her eyes darting back and forth between the people as more and more questions were thrown at her.
A hand grabbed her arm roughly and she screamed in fear, dropping her basket and tripping.
"Child, are you ok?" asked a kind voice.
A woman she vaguely remembered looked down at her, and Mira realized none of the horrible things had been said. The people were looking at her confused and concerned as she lay half sprawled in the street.
Trying to say she was fine, only vague sounds managed to escape from her and she realized she was sobbing as she struggled to gather her spilled herbs.
"You poor thing, let me help you," said the woman, pulling her up on her feet and gathering the spilled herbs in a couple sweeps of her arms. "These herbs…"
Mira took her basket and looked at the woman with tears still trickling down her cheeks.
"What do you want for them?" she asked softly, kneeling down in front of the girl. "My daughter is sick and I think these might help her.
"What is she sick with?" asked Mira, sniffing as her nose decided to join her leaking eyes.
"We don't know but a lot of people are coming down with the same thing," she said sadly. "They start with a fever and lose their strength, and without an appetite, they just fade away."
"I might be able to help," nodded Mira, holding up her herbs.
"Was that the beginning of the sickness?" asked the young girl at her feet, and Mira struggled to focus on her face instead of the face of the sick girl in her memory.
"So many people were sick, I made tea for days. I was terrified that I would run out of my herbs but strangely I had just enough. I think Vraela was using her magic to make sure I had enough."
"Who is Vraela?" asked the girl, pulling the towel closer as she put her empty bowl on the floor next to her.
"Vraela is the goddess who taught me to continue living."