haebin | The Mistress of the Shadowland, Second Book, The next Chapter

I know I am a little bit late today but I didn't forget it.
This chapter is a little smaller but I hope you don't mind. The next ones are bigger, promised.
Please enjoy it and thank you so, so much for reading. It means the world to me!
♥

“Anwyn?”
Doran sat up sleepily and frowned as he looked at the campside opposite him. In recent weeks, Anwyn and he had agreed to let him sleep a little longer while she got up at the crack of dawn to start her daily chores. But now Anwyn was still hidden under her sheet, her back turned to him, her beautiful curls the only visible sign that she was still lying on her camp, asleep.
She's not sick, is she? the old fisherman wondered anxiously, placing both hands on his campside and sitting up with difficulty, a groan on his lips. Already, an oppressive heat could be felt in their small house, indicating that it would be a very hot day. Doran had to hurry to take Conall out to sea, because when the sun beat down on them at noon, there was too great a risk of fainting, dehydrating, or getting so badly sunburned in the small boat that they would hardly be able to move for the next few days. But first he had to check on his daughter. He walked over to her, leaned down a little, and whispered her name.
Then Doran heard a sound that sounded like sobbing to him. He gently placed his hand on his daughter's shoulder and squeezed it lightly. With a startled movement, Anwyn woke up just half a breath later. The sheet slipped from her upper body as she sat up halfway and braced herself with her palms on the mattress beneath her. She stared at her father in alarm, beads of sweat on her forehead and the nightgown she wore soaked with perspiration.
“Anwyn, child, are you all right?” Doran's voice was full of concern as he watched his daughter blink several times, as if trying to realize where she was.
“What... what happened?” she asked him, stammering, her gaze confused, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, which were slightly red and swollen.
She cried in her sleep, Doran realized with a heavy heart, and he sat down at the edge of the camp.
“I'd say you overslept,” her father replied with a gentle smile, his hand still resting reassuringly on her shoulder. He spoke softly to her, not wanting to show her that he was a little worried. Anwyn shook her head and looked dissatisfied, almost angry with herself.

“Overslept? By the gods, I still have so much to do,” she exclaimed, wrapping herself in the sheet, which she threw to the end of her camp. She quickly got up, opened her wooden chest, and grabbed a dress at random.
Damn it, Anwyn, what's wrong with you? she thought in frustration, turning away from her father and hurriedly slipping out of her nightgown.
"I'm sure Eleri is already taking care of breakfast and Conall is feeding the chickens. So there's no need to rush," said Doran, his voice full of understanding, but Anwyn shook her head again and put on a simple, light green, airy linen dress with short sleeves. Then she reached for her leather sandals standing next to her camp, put them on, and looked at him.
“Do you need my help getting dressed, Father?” Anwyn asked, suppressing a sigh as he immediately shook his head and raised his hand to wave her off. “Are you really sure?”

“Of course, child,” Doran replied, sitting up, careful not to show that the movement caused him pain. Anwyn would have loved to ignore his objection, but he was an adult, and her unintentional oversleeping had put her in a tight spot. She always had a meticulously planned schedule for ethe next day when she went to her camp the night before, but this time a nightmare had taken hold of her. It had felt endless and unbearable, almost as if she were trapped in a swamp, her head just above the merciless mud, yet knowing that it would only take a few more breaths to sink, to feel everything around her turn black, to feel the bog pressing into her ears, her nose, and her mouth. With full consciousness, she would feel the air becoming increasingly scarce, slowly suffocating as the mud made its way through her windpipe to her lungs.
Anwyn shook her head to dispel the images and memories of the nightmare, then looked questioningly at her father once more.
“Are you really sure? It wouldn't really be an extra task for me to help you.”

Doran nodded and when Anwyn kissed his forehead they both knew he was lying.
She saw the pain in his eyes when he moved and wished she could help him, but at the same time she respected his decision, even though she thought it was wrong. It was pointless to argue with him; he simply did not want to admit that the pain had become unbearable for him over the last few months. And still he was too proud to ask for help. Anwyn knew it was shame that was holding him back. He saw himself as a burden to his daughter, yet he took on the hardest work, allowed himself no rest, and ignored his own body until the pain became unbearable. The usual ointments and teas that Anwyn had been giving him for years were slowly losing their effect.
Sometimes, when sleep was so far away and she lay in the dark, she wondered if magic potions would help him. She knew that most potions contributed to healing, provided protection, or strengthened the body. But would they also be useful for relieving pain?

Anwyn decided to ask Trálír for advice the next time they saw each other. If you didn't know a cleric who could prepare the potions, you could always buy them. They were almost unaffordable for ordinary mortals in these lands, but by now the small farm, the fishery, and her work as a healer had brought her a little prosperity. Perhaps she would be able to acquire a few magic potions that might take away her father's worst pain.

Opening the door, Anwyn stepped out into the courtyard and saw Brin, who was playing in the dirt, notice her and dash towards her at the same moment. She reached for the wooden bucket on the table next to the door where she and Eleri were gutting the daily catch of fish and suppressed a smile as the young half-elf ran towards her, the barking Yarrow at his heels and his younger brother Elyan staggering shakily behind him on his chubby little legs.
“Anwyn, Anwyn!” Brin called, wrapping his arms around her thighs as he always did when he greeted her. She tousled his hair with an affectionate smile. “Why are you only awake now, Anwyn? Are you sick?” Brin asked anxiously, looking up at her.

“Oh, you don't have to worry about me, Brin. I lost track of time a little, because a small fairy visited me last night,” Anwyn replied with a wink, causing the half-elf's eyes to widen. Elyan had now caught up with his brother and raised his hands toward Anwyn, wanting to be picked up. Yarrow, barking wildly, lay down on his back, wagging his tail, and presented his belly to Anwyn to receive his morning welcome pats. She knelt down with a broad smile, stroking the dog's belly with her right hand and hugging Elyan with her left arm, kissing him on the head.
“Really?” Brin asked in a quiet voice, filled with awe.
“Really,” Anwyn replied mysteriously, whispering with a grin and straightening up again. As she positioned Elyan on her arm to hold him securely, she glanced over at the garden beds where she spotted Eleri harvesting some vegetables for the evening meal. With a smile and raised hands waving, the two women greeted each other, then Anwyn walked toward the barn to fetch the vegetables and fruits bought at the market that were stored there to feed the animals. She answered Brin's curious questions about the nighttime fairy visit while filling her bucket, Elyan still in her arms. It was only when they went to the large enclosure together and Brin was allowed to feed the animals that he forgot about the fairy and all the questions he had about her for a brief moment and concentrated on his task.
Anwyn absentmindedly stroked the toddler's soft hair in her arms and thought about the nightmare that had gripped her during the night.