The earth was moist and warm here, the areas where sun light pushed through the willows were dry and hot and little specs floated in those beams form the moss and dried wood that sat away form the banks of the river. Swamp stools and moss grew abundant here, but so did good flowers and herbs. These swamp lands held rich, fertile mud, hundred of years old, or so boasted their tall birch trees and long willow reeds. During the summer days, Anica the Apothecary was out in the fields hanging her herbs to dry in the sun and making lavender baby dolls for the children of the small swamp tribe. Anica was the only real gypsy of this little floating town, some of these folks were indirectly related to the Sinti Gypsies and had received acceptance by the older respected members of her clan. Anica herself was from the smaller coastal clan, Munush but left her clan when she was very young to make her own way in the world.
Today she gathered white willow root for her badly injured guests, it was in her basket with the many other balms she needed to finish pressing, the root was good for soothing pain, rosemary would help them dream and the many others were to kill infection and boost immunity.
Two chubby black haired children wearing play frocks were sticking their heads inside the iconic brown and white healing tent where the two severely injured foreigners were resting. It would be time to bathe and feed them soon and Anica clicked at the nosy children in their language,
"leave them be unless you want to bathe the big one by your selves!" the children squealed and ran with giggles.
One turned back to Anica and took a proud stance, poking his belly out past his chest, he looked much like his father,
"Madame doctor, the young one was moving!"Anica made a surprised look as she side glanced to the tent, the quiet massive dragon she'd become used to seeing, and then back to the boy before squishing her face into an affirming smile,
"I better go in then, hm?"He smiled and nodded, trying to look wise before he waddle-ran to join his friend who was pulling down a rope from the wall of a neighboring shed. Anica took a breath as she walked passed their scaled guest and then ducked into the netted tent. The breeze could sneak in through its weaves but it kept the air clean. Anica pulled her dark brown skirts into the low standing place. The tent stretched long enough to house five or six people comfortably and had a wonderfully cozy feeling with its low ceiling. There were tables and baskets at the foot of each cot and one carved stool by the front. Anica carried her basket and the stool to the bed of the small one, her dreaded hair fell in front of her shoulders. She settled and began grinding herbs in a stone bowl,
humming a little nursery tune her mother used to sing to her. The smell of wet earth and pine burst from her work. She didn't often make very much noise when she worked, but she wanted the little girl to be aware of her presence. She wanted her to be as comforted as possible, this was likely the first time she'd been awake since taking the beating of a life time, the bandages she was covered in would be scary enough by themselves, but there were harder factors. Anica was surprised she was already coming back into consciousness, her larger companion was still in a severe recovering state; it was almost as though he'd died and came back to life.