The young woman ventured through the rainy night, fingers freezing itchily red from constantly moving ice-cold, water-saturated leaves out o’ the way o’ her path.
Kilometers later, she ran into the tiny castle & knocked. A shadow opened the door & let her in.
The young woman stood on the welcome mat as the owner turned for the kitchen.
You must be Madame Solstice. I was told you wore a mask.
Please, sit & be comfortable, said the owner.
There’s no time for comfort; I need to learn, quickly.
We shall; but, please, sit. We must talk.
Knowing that arguing further would get her no further, she sat & waited. A minute after, the owner came in holding a steaming mug with a tea leaf dangling o’er the rim. She sat it on the table in front o’ the young woman.
The young woman looked up @ the owner, brows raised by the importance her tone gave to this tea.
She couldn’t see the owner’s expression ’hind that mask; but the young woman could tell by the cadence that she meant something when she said,
It’ll make you grow.