Tales from Mythend

Apple's Surprise Adoption

Characters: Apple, Snizzletook

Warnings: None

 The apothecary was a small one, but it was well known and well loved. Its wood-and-stone exterior set it apart from the more contemporary brick-and-mortar shops that had grown along the sides of the market street over the years. The words Apple's Apothecary were painted on the hanging wooden sign just outside the door.

Inside, the titular Apple bustled back and forth, sorting herbs and looking over her stock. She was a portly older woman with brunette hair that was turning silver at the temples, rosy cheeks, a warm smile, and gray eyes that seemed to cut right through any pretense one had set up. Despite her graying hair, she had the constitution of an ox and the energy of a young girl. No one knew exactly how old she was. Apple, of course, wasn't her real name. Whenever anyone asked for her real one she'd just grin and say, "If I haven't told the Fae, then I won't tell you."

Apple had managed the apothecary for years, supplying the town of Elkcrest with medicine for nigh on half a century. The town grew up around her, but she never moved her business or expanded it. "I started with this little old building," she'd say, "No sense in changing it now." She insisted she didn't need any help, and that she had better peace of mind when it was just her hands in the pot.

Three years ago, however, Apple changed that philosophy after Snizzletook. He showed up one day at the apothecary doorstep during a horrific thunderstorm. He had been a tiny, wretched thing then, barely three feet tall and soaked to the bone, ears flat against his head and terror in his wide eyes. His green skin had a sickly yellow tint, and his purple eyes were rheumy with fever. He had nothing but a little loincloth to cover his thin body.

Apple had taken him in immediately. She had always been of the belief that children, matter their species, deserved care. She sat him by the fire hearth in the back room, a blanket wrapped around his small frame. His skin was hot to the touch, confirming her earlier diagnosis.

"Great Gwyth, child," she exclaimed after placing the back of her hand on his forehead. "Stay here," she ordered. The child simply stared at her, a curious mixture of fear and awe in his large eyes. Apple frowned, but said nothing.

She hurried around the shop, gathering things as she went. Thankfully, she still had a batch of her fever-reducing herbs leftover from that morning. Apple grabbed those, along with a water-filled kettle and a cooling cloth. She made her way back to the child. He hadn't moved an inch, still sitting on the fur rug she sat him down on and staring into the flames half-dazed. Apple's frown deepened. She would have to hurry and get some medicine in him before the fever worsened.

At her entrance, the child turned, blinking tiredly. He watched her apprehensively as she put the kettle on the fire, along with the herbs. "This'll turn into a nice tea," she said by way of explaining, throwing a smile over her shoulder. "Might not taste very good, but medicine rarely does." The child didn't respond, though his eyes flickered to the kettle and back to her.

Minutes passed in silence. She gently dabbed the cloth on the child's forehead, trying to ignore the way he flinched away from her at first. Finally, Apple deemed the tea to be ready. She took the kettle from the fire and poured it into an earthenware mug. "Be careful," she cautioned, pressing the cup into the child's hands. "It's hot."

The child stared down at the mug. She was beginning to think she'd have to make him drink it when he slowly lifted the cup to his lips and blew to cool it. Then he took a cautious sip, screwing up his eyes at the taste. She smiled again. "Told you it wouldn't taste good. But drink it up. It'll help you feel better."

The child wrinkled his nose, but didn't protest, obediently taking another sip. The warmth of the drink seemed to relax him, and the hard line of his shoulders gradually softened.

Apple sat on a rocking chair, taking this time to study the child carefully. Now that she had the chance to really look at him, it was clear he wasn't entirely goblin. He had the large ears and the skin tone, sure, but the small fangs she saw poking out as he drank, and the orange, bony, bat-like nose spike were both decidedly ungoblin. She wondered if he was a runaway. If his parents were looking for him. The way he flinched when she reached out to touch him...well, it worried her.

When the child finished the last drop of tea and timidly held out the empty mug with a quiet, raspy, "Thank you." Apple's decision was already made. She was keeping him.