A small child tries to grab Bribid to carry off what they thought was a cute little gnome. The parental was distracted by trying to help two other children who were very sick. Fortunately, he and Wraithvine are very patient people. -- Anon Guest
"Small" is relative when including children. Gnomes tend to top out at three feet high, so their children are terrifyingly tiny when compared to -say- Humans and Elves. Or the large Harukh'a offshoot from the verdant valleys, the Augh'or. Their small children started at five feet tall when they were toddlers.
And one of them had just grabbed Bibrid like he was a doll. "Mama, Mama, lookit! Cute!"
Mama, already up to her elbows in brewing medicine for the rest of the tribe, did not 'lookit'. She kept stirring and said, "That's nice, dear. Play gentle, now." The medicine was at a crucial stage and needed watching.
That was why Wraithvine forgave her.
As for the child... Ze got in the little one's way and said, "No. That's people. People are not for playing with."
"Aaaw... But, cute..."
"I'm glad you like my friend," said Wraithvine, "but we ask people before we pick them up."
The baby Augh'or put Bibrid down with a, "Sowwy."
"No harm done," allowed Bibrid. "I think I can make something for you to play with, just stay in the play yard with it."
"Awright. Tank you."
Good old Tinrak's Bouncing Orb. With a few wards to keep it in the play yard, the little one was no longer in danger of getting underfoot... or overhead. The older Augh'or were better used to dealing with smaller peoples. At least the five who were immune to the spores that had afflicted the area.
Wraithvine had dealt with the spores, and the villain who loosed them, but curing the ailment was a lengthy marathon.
This particular enormous cauldron was filled with the third step of twenty to bring the rest of the tribe back to normalcy. And, for all the trouble, the magic needed some Elven blood.
This was how the bad rumours started.
Wraithvine was not a sacrifice in this case. Ze could add hir blood voluntarily, and it wouldn't be enough to make hir dizzy. One drop per victim, and one for the fortune of the gods. Just to put proper magic into the overall brew.
The time to do that was nigh. Now that the little one was safely sorted, Wraithvine clambered up the stepladder to pierce hir finger with a clean blade. Counting out the drops as they fell into the bubbling brew.
The next brew would involve Bibrid's turn. Sort of. To add a pound of powdered Dragon scales into the new mix.
The current cauldron of medicine changed colour. A sure sign that it was nearly ready.
A scatter of herbs, and it had to steep for an hour. Mama took the cauldron off the fire and went to catch her child.
In a month... the tribe would be back to full health. They would all be busy until then.
[Photo by Elena Mozhvilo on Unsplash]
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