The soldier pacing me, always trailing about 10-15ft behind, I make my way back to the tear. A squad of soldiers, maybe twelve, is posted. “Am I going to have any issues coming back through?” I ask.

“You can come this way, but you can’t go back.” Three move to block my path, as one of them answers.

One of the other soldiers out of my view must have given the okay because the three of them step aside to let me through.

I meet a second squad on the other side, weapons half-drawn as they evaluate my threat level. I pause and wait for their acknowledgment before moving forward.

Jogging at a moderate pace, adjusting the armor pieces for a better fit while I run. I’m thinking of a gnome “I do things like that for a coin”. I head for Greens Brook. I’m fairly certain he would know or at least point me in the right direction of people who are willing to pay for some healing at a “discounted rate” from what the church asks.

Heading out past Community Farms, the soldier continues to match my stride. There is light traffic on the road. Travelers on foot stop and step off the road as I approach. Must be more of a cultural thing because there is plenty of room for me to pass. Horses and carriages maintain their course when we pass each other.

Coming into Greens Brook, I slow to a jog. Heading straight into the town, I try to remember the route Marxist took when we left. I start to turn in the wrong direction several times, but as soon as I look down the street I am turning onto, I can see that it is the wrong way. The buildings, sites, sounds, and smells, are unique and it is apparent which district you are heading into.

People were still moving aside when they heard me coming. I thought it was just the clinking of the armor as I ran and didn’t think much of it. Until I wiped something off my face and noticed my arm, then the rest of myself that I could see. If there was a water hose or something, I would definitely be washing myself off.

It takes a bit of retracing my steps, but I find my way back to the Taylor shop. I can see there are customers inside and decide it best to wait. “Ha,” I make myself laugh realizing I really am a filthy human right now.

Some older Gnomes exiting, as they notice me, choose to walk in the other direction away from where I’m standing. I wait for a moment, then enter.

“How may I help you, Kind Sir?” An older Gnome, like Great Grandma looking old smiles at me.

“I was looking for…?” I don’t remember his name.

Grandma here is just smiling, waiting on me to continue. Can she even see me? I want to be nice about this. I know how I should be acting. I’m having a hard time right now holding it in. The run has worked off the rage, but the underlying anger is still there.

Closing my eyes and taking a breath. “I’m looking for the person who helped…” The gnome walks around the corner and up to the desk. Pulling a measuring tape and a wand out of a drawer before turning away, his attention and thoughts were somewhere else.

Grandma gnome stops him with a hand to his chest and arm in a half hug as he passes her. “This is my gnomelet Banxi.” She smiles, not letting him pass.

“Nnnn,” Clenching his teeth at her before turning to me with a smile.

“Ah, God’s!” Rolling his eyes and exclaiming as he looks at me.

I don’t have the patience for this right now. Reaching into a pocket, I grab a hand full of coins and slap it down like I was buying a drink at a bar. “I need to make some coin. A lot of coins. I’ve a skill that can Heal and I’ll do it for half of what the Church asks for. Just point me in the right direction or who I should talk to.”

They both stare at me for a moment before Granny gives her son a couple of love pats with her hand before letting him go. Banxi looking at me, not knowing what to say. Grandma gnome comes around the desk, takes my arm, starts to escort me out the door, and “ack..”

Stepping back to take the wand from Banxi, she pokes me in the chest with it while I was still puzzled about what she was doing. “Scourgify!”

What took Banxi five or ten minutes before, she hits me with everything in one shot. The blood, dirt, and grime cleaning up all at once.

Shoving the wand in a holster or maybe up her sleeve with a flick, she takes hold of my arm with that ‘old man grip strength’. Holding on as if she was going to slip on an icy sidewalk, she guide me out the door that the soldier just happens to be holding open for us.

Leading me down the side of the street at a slow pace, she has a bit of a hobble in her walk. After a couple of turns and about 10 minutes, ‘Heal’ I say under my breath. Half because she probably needs it. Half because I’m getting impatient and want her to walk faster.

‘Heal’ I say again because she wasn’t walking any better, or faster. Smiling up at me, I’m not sure if she’s faking it or not.

We come to a clinic of sorts. I swear we’re only a couple of blocks over and she took me on some roundabout senile route. We enter a waiting area with a little more than twenty-five or thirty people. It looks as if some live here. It’s certainly a lower-income and without question in need.

Granny gnome looks up at me, “Anyone with the coins you need, the Church has already helped.” Looking at the people. “Those without the coin are in need, maybe you could help?”

Giving me a couple of pats on my arm, like she did her son, she lets go of my arm and walks towards the exit. The soldier holding the door open for her.

Looking around, I’m still mad, still hurting. Now I also feel like a shit.

I want to sit, but there doesn’t look to be any place.

‘Heal’ I say to the person closest to me. I say person because I have no clue what race they are. ‘Heal’, ‘Heal’, ‘Heal’, “GET UP!” To the last person just looking at me.

After a few more Heals, people start gathering towards me. A few of the places to sit are now open. I step over to one of them, sit down and continue, as long as someone is in front of me. ‘Heal’, ‘Heal’, ‘Heal’, some are talking to me, touching me, putting their hands on me. ‘Heal’, ‘Heal’, ‘Heal’…

There is excitement in the room as they celebrate whatever healing they received. I’m glad for them, but I’m not feeling it. The more I sit here and think about it. The more introspection I do, the more the baggage and crap float to the surface of my mind.

I get up and leave, there doesn’t seem to be anyone else who was in need. I’m sure a few more came as word spread about what was happening. There are another dozen or so sporadically arriving, some being helped or carried. I pause long enough to ‘Heal’ and continue walking. Some were following that didn’t need a Healing, but the soldier put a stop to that after about a block.

Walking, I find myself headed to Ava’s. Those stupid Sunflowers keep coming to mind. Maybe there’s something, but I’m not seeing it. My thoughts are chaotic and as I continue to reexamine my life and see the apathy, it’s just making me frustrated and loathe myself.

Plead The Blood.

Thinking back to the children when I first arrived and this blue band. Thinking about people who I could have helped. Even if it was just a kind word or a meal, instead of backing away and not wanting to get too close.

Ask for forgiveness.

Apathetic. Indifferent. Uninterested. Unconcerned. Unsympathetic. That’s the kind of person I’ve been as I find myself standing at the doors to Awakening Farms.

Pulling the door open, I enter an empty lobby. Walking to the reception desk, I remember emptying my pockets on the counter and Gut’s ring that they took offense of that it even existed.

“Ava isn’t here at the moment. Is there anything that I can help you with?” Marxist asks, startling and pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Is it okay if I go out and look at the Sunflower for a while?” I ask.

Looking at me with a questioning tilt of his head for a few seconds, with a shrug of his shoulders, “Follow me.” Grabbing a key ring and headed to the back hallway.

Opening the door to the garden, I follow him through and to the patch of Sunflowers. “Just as a reminder,” Marxist says, “Do not get any closer than about half the distance we are now. And keep your distance from the pond at all times unless Ava is with you. Okay?”

He waits until I acknowledge him. “The door is always unlocked to get back into the main building. For everything else, you will need a key. Nothing in this section nothing is going to kill you, but that doesn’t mean if you start touching something you shouldn’t, it’s not going to hurt.”

With that said, he turns and walks back. “Libelle, let me know.”

I hear the dragonfly wings, and maybe a little giggle, but I don’t see her or any of the others.

It’s a beautiful day with blue skies, a light breeze, and puffy clouds with a green tint. A day where you would just bring out the grill. Maybe have a few friends over. But I’m just standing here being mad at the Sunflower because I know there’s something here that I can do with it. I’m just not seeing it.

I glare at a cloud, wondering why it has a faint green-tinted outline.

I kneel and grab a handful of dirt out of the ground. I compress it in my hands, about the size of a golf ball. Then toss it at the Sunflowers. “Pfft.”

I do it again. “Pfft.”

I see it. I see it with my heightened perception like ultra 4K definition and have an epiphany moment with myself. My heightened perception isn’t only of what I can see. It’s of everything, including myself. Being mad and wanting to kill them just brought the inadequacies within me to the surface of my mind so that I could see it. See myself. And the harder I looked, the more I saw. Saw the kind of person I was and I didn’t like it at all.

I have to do better. Be better. I don’t know how to do that. I want to be a bigger better person. I guess being aware of where you’re at and wanting to be a better person is a start.

It has to be the start of something because images of holding a hairspray can and cigarette lighter for a homemade torch are coming to mind.