There are some people who seem born to bring calm into the world… Bria is one of them.
In the peaceful region of Leighfeld, where healers tend to those in need, Bria has found her place. She is not the one called upon for the most difficult wounds or the rarest illnesses. Her gift is quieter, softer, but no less powerful.
Bria is a comfort healer. With the gentlest touch, she can ease a troubled mind, quiet pain, and bring a sense of peace to those who need it most. It is a gift that cannot be brewed in a pot or gathered from the forest, but one that flows from her as naturally as breath itself.
Her days pass in a rhythm she has come to cherish. In the mornings, the scent of pine often lingers on her hands, carried from the branches she gathers along the forest’s edge. She favors those with the richest fragrance, running her fingers along the needles before selecting the ones that feel just right. Back in the village, she weaves them together with care, her hands moving with quiet purpose as she fashions wreaths that soon find their place on door after door.
It pleases her to see them there. A touch of green against weathered wood, a small sign of welcome and warmth. Many in the village have one of Bria’s wreaths hanging proudly, and it is not uncommon for someone to call out to her as she passes, thanking her once again for the simple beauty she has added to their home.
Some wreaths, however, are more special than others. Those are the ones she makes for brides. Delicate and carefully crafted, they are woven not only with pine but with soft sprigs and tiny blossoms, chosen with thought and care. Each one is made for the woman who will wear it, and Bria takes her time with them, shaping each wreath as if it holds a story of its own.
There are moments, as she works, when her thoughts drift. She wonders, quietly and without urgency, what kind of wreath she might one day make for herself. What flowers she would choose. Whether she would favor the soft pale blooms that grow near the stream or the deeper hues found along the forest path. It is not a longing that troubles her, only a gentle curiosity that lingers and then fades, like so many thoughts carried on a passing breeze.
Her days are not filled only with crafting. When called upon, she offers what she does best. A worried mother sits beside her child, and Bria’s hand rests lightly over small trembling fingers until calm returns. An elderly man troubled by pain finds relief in her presence, his breathing easing beneath her touch. Even the animals seem to sense her gift, restless dogs grow still, and injured creatures allow her near without fear.
And when her work is done, she often walks to the river. There, she gathers smooth stones worn soft by the steady flow of water. She turns them in her hands, appreciating their cool, rounded surfaces, sometimes keeping a few to string into simple necklaces or charms. Each stone feels different, shaped by time and current, much like the lives of those she tends.
It is a quiet, peaceful life she enjoys… until one day, one touch, and everything changes.
Memorizing!
Mesmerizing!!
So glad you are continuing to enjoy them!