The healers heart

Chapter 9

The weeks following Kaelen's arrival brought a steady transformation, both in his physical recovery and in his growing place within the village. His strength had returned gradually, and though his leg was still stiff and his abdomen tender from the deep wound, he was able to move about with the aid of a cane that the carpenter had crafted for him. The cane, carved from sturdy wood, became a familiar companion as Kaelen made his slow but steady rounds through the village.

At first, he struggled with his limitations, frustrated by his inability to move as freely as he once had. But Elena, ever patient, reminded him that healing took time. She had fashioned a special oil—a blend of comfrey, chamomile, and marjoram—and would massage his leg daily to help ease the stiffness. Though the process was slow, it was effective, and Kaelen found himself able to walk a little further each day.

Still, there were tasks he couldn't yet perform. He avoided anything that would strain his healing abdomen, steering clear of lifting heavy objects or doing anything that might reopen the wound. Instead, Kaelen found other ways to be useful and make his presence felt.

One of the things that brought Kaelen closer to the heart of the village was his gift for storytelling. The children, with their boundless curiosity, were the first to gather around him, their wide-eyed wonder drawing him in as they asked him about the places he'd seen and the creatures he'd fought. It started with just a few of them—little Thom, the baker's youngest son, and Sarah, the blacksmith's daughter—sitting at Kaelen's feet as he rested on a bench near the village square.

"What's the biggest monster you've ever fought?" Thom had asked, his eyes wide with excitement.

Kaelen had smiled, leaning on his cane as he considered the question. "The biggest?" he mused. "Well, that would have to be the Storm Serpent of the northern cliffs. Its body was as long as five trees, and its scales shimmered like lightning."

The children gasped, hanging on his every word. As he spoke, describing the battles he had fought and the strange lands he had visited, more and more children began to gather around. Soon, even the adults found themselves drawn to Kaelen's tales, standing at the edge of the group, pretending to be busy with their chores but clearly listening.

Before long, Kaelen became a regular fixture in the village square. Every few days, when he wasn't resting or helping with smaller tasks, he would sit on the bench, and the children would come running, eager to hear his latest story. Even those who had been wary of him at first now found themselves smiling as they listened to his adventures.

One afternoon, as Tomas, the shepherd, passed by, he stopped to listen to Kaelen recount a tale about the Floating Isles in the eastern seas, where the cliffs moved with the tides and strange flying creatures hunted the skies.

"You've seen all that?" Tomas asked, his skepticism laced with amusement.

Kaelen chuckled, his silver-grey eyes gleaming. "Seen it, fought it, and lived to tell the tale."

Tomas shook his head, a grin breaking across his face. "Well, you're either the luckiest man alive, or the best storyteller I've ever heard."

Kaelen's way with words, his calm demeanor, and his willingness to help with whatever he could—even if it was just gathering water or guiding people through the forest paths—gradually won over the village. Though some still regarded him with curiosity, there was no denying that he had found a place among them.

Yet, even as Kaelen grew closer to the villagers, Rowan remained distant. The unspoken tension between the two men lingered, though neither addressed it outright. Rowan would watch Kaelen from a distance, his jaw tight and his posture stiff, but he never voiced his discomfort. Elena noticed, of course, but she wasn't sure how to bridge the gap between them.