On that rainy day, a young traveler came through our door, breathing faintly to us that she wished to shelter from the rain. It was around that time that the children in the village had fallen sick one after another, and my precious Veitch wasn't lucky enough to be spared. We all muttered how it was some devil's witchcraft silently spreading about, and so we all kept our houses tightly shut. But we didn't have the heart to throw a single frail woman back into the wild in the rainstorm, so we agreed to let her in. The first moment she laid eyes on Veitch, she sensed something was wrong. She was prudent as we worked through his symptoms with her, and she asked how the village at large was doing, before revealing herself to be a roving doctor. 'This is no Originium Arts; it's an illness. The soil and wellwater is contaminated, and the children are the first to be sick; as the poisoning builds up over time, the adults will come to show symptoms too.' She opened her suitcase, and mixed a medicine with practiced hands. As she did, she spoke. 'I'm sorry. All I can give myself is a temporary first aid, but the only way to cure an illness such as this is to be away from the contamination's source, and convalesce through medication in the long-term. If possible, I'd ask you to tell all the village that they should move away from here.' 'But this is our home,' my husband said with worry. 'Even if this soil will harm us, where are we going to shelter if we leave here?' The doctor said nothing more. She worked in simple silence. The weather had cleared up the next day, and I found the doctor just as she was about to leave. On the door was stuck a wild flower, a kind that grew anywhere. In that instant, a faint memory of someone seemed to match with her in my head. 'I remember you, doctor. I've met you before.' 'I was still in a small town on the outer edge of a nomadic city. You'd make home visits to everyone, and you always secretly handed out fresh flowers to us children... I was behind the curtains watching, I remember seeing from there.' 'That was decades ago by now. My mother caught Oripathy, see and we were driven out... and I've gone from a child to a married woman now, I know you wouldn't recognize me. But, well, you look about the same now, compared to all the way back then.' I told her how grateful I was for her, from the bottom of my heart, for she cured me of my fever when I was young, and now she'd saved my own child too. Yet the look on her face was at first blank, then became so sorrowful, as if she was close to weeping. 'No, please... don't go on any further. Just treat me as though I'd never visited before.'