“Hesper, this is very kind, but you don’t need to—”
“Don’t fight it,” she said playfully. “Can you please just accept that I want you to have a fun day, and I’d like to give that to you?”
I can think of another fun thing you could give to me.My heart perked up.
Do not even think about it, I scolded.
She’s paying for crafting supplies. That’s foreplay.
No, it’s not. It’s the least she could do after being a terror this morning, I replied haughtily. All was silent for a moment.
Until.
Nah, I think it’s foreplay.
Talking to my heart might have opened up my magic, but it was also creating a nuisance for me right about now.
Whatever the day did or did not mean, I didn’t have time to think about it. There was a shoppe ahead, and I—as a visitor to Dwindle—considered it my civic duty to bolster the local economy. Hesper opted to visit Charles the Blacksmith’s shoppe as I perused all things fiber art.
I knocked on the inside of the door, sputtering as a cloud of dust plumed into my face.
“Hello?” I called through the murky cloud.
“Hello?” a boisterous voice called back. “Oh dear, you walked right into all the muck! Come in, come in.” An arm reached through the mist and pulled me inside. Beyond all that dust swirling about was a Haven.
Yarns of all colors poured from the ceilings, shelves, and overturned baskets on the ground. Layers of disuse coated everything, but even that couldn’t halt the cacophony of brightness emanating from all corners of this place. It was afeast for my eyes, and the panic that had been holding me in a viselike grip for the last few days lessened ever so slightly.
“Oh, my Goddess,” I managed. “This is amazing.”
A plump older woman appeared in front of me. She wore a long purple sweater that had baubles, charms, puffs of yarn, and loose threads of all colors sprouting out of it like a new crop. Sweat plastered her short black hair to her round face, but some kinky curls stood straight out despite the wetness. She was smiling broadly, and I couldn’t help but match the smile right back.
“Why, hello there,” she said, resting on her broom. “You must be our new Town Gardener. Clara, is it?”
“Yes and yes,” I replied happily. There was still a part of me that forgot I didn’t have to feel guilty or worried that I might not be able to give them everything they needed. But then there was the part of me that knew there were sprouts and magic and hope.
“We are so glad you’re here,” she said, falling back into singing and sweeping. “The name is Babette, by the way. Enjoy the shoppe, and enjoy the sun, too! Hasn’t been out in nearly a century.”
“What?” I asked, shocked. I knew that Dwindle had fought in their own way against withering magic, ensuring that their village remained out of the Prince’s notice. Their town had certainly taken a hit; that’s why I was here in the first place. But the sun, entirely gone?
She sighed sadly. “Yes. No sun for one hundred years—ever since Fennings burned. Withering magic took the color and light right out of Dwindle. We did what we could to staveoff the magic; we still do. But we mortals can’t break apart the clouds.”
The information hit me right in my heart. I shouldn’t have been surprised that the village nestled against the Witherings might never know the sun. How had they managed to stay hopeful through all the gray?
Maybe they made each other their lights.
“But!” she said cheerfully, wagging a finger in the air. “That was then, and this is now. The sun is out, you are here, and you need a Babette sweater!” She bustled over to a rack of clothing that was so colorful and eclectic, it all looked like a haphazard paint palette. She gave me an expectant smile, displaying her cozy wares before me.
I chose a sweater covered in crocheted leaves and berries. If you lifted up some of the leaves, there were tiny creatures hidden here and there. A bird under the mulberry bush. A sleeping mouse under a mushroom. And even a hedgehog under a pile of autumn-colored blooms. I tried to pay her, but she shooed me out of her shoppe before I could.
Just as I entered the street, a huge sign was being strung up in the middle of the square.
DWINDLE’SFARMERSMARKET
RETURNSINTWENTY DAYS
BRING YOUR WARES, BRING YOUR FAMILIES, BRING YOURSELVES!!!!
Strangely, I didn’t balk, didn’t want to run away into the woods when I saw it. Because in twenty days, Dwindlewouldhave the market of a lifetime.
