pon her many strolls along the lake, she came across mint. Bunches of mint that she happily gathered and tied by string, tossing the long strand (tied on either end with the herbs) against her back. In time they would dry, and she could preserve them better. They made for a nice and humble tea, soothing. In her homeland, they rarely came across the stuff. Since it preferred the wetlands, marshes and lakes. There were only a few that she recalled from her past. But like any watering hole, any body of water attracted all sorts of folk and beast. It was rarely calm, and fraught with danger.

She waded in the water along the shore. Two strands dangled from her back, having spent most of the day moving in and out of the water. Grabbing mouthfuls near the earth. It grew like weeds, these things; she felt no need to impart a cautious stance – confident that they would grow once more into batches, upon batches of mint in the next spring. With the sun to her back, the work was pleasant. It was simple, meager work; not especially challenging or physically draining.  

Naida stopped to pause, clouds on the horizon appeared. Blotting the pleasant sun, graying the sky. And yet the forest surrounding the lake mesmerized her; its vibrant colors showered the shores with all sorts of greens and peachy oranges.

For now all seemed pleasant, content. The birds murmured from within the trees. Rodents and smaller creatures prepared for the coming cold months. It wasn’t as stale as Naida would have thought it would be. It was rather homely, this place and the beginnings of autumn always comforted her.