Just as she had predicted, it took her over half an hour to make her way to the McEnroe’s. Close to an hour and forty-five minutes, in fact.

By the time Lily glimpsed the gabled rooftop of her destination, she had covered nearly all the area by foot. Someone had removed the burned tree and only a small and twisted—and nearly invisible—stump remained. She passed it twice before she managed to take the correct turn. Then, she discovered people in Scotland had the interesting pastime of carrying nice rocks around and leaving them behind, presumably to sit on later during their walks or while they minded their sheep. She inspected no less than five standing rocks before she decided which one her grandmother meant. In the end, it was an old pull from memory and the drifting aroma of berry bushes insinuated in the breeze that guided her to the right house.

“Mr. McEnroe?” she called after ringing the bell. “Ms. McEnroe?”

The door took a long moment to open, and when it did, it showed a small kid, not older than five or six at the most.

“Hullo,” he said.

“Hi,” Lily tried on her best smile. “Are your parents home? Mackenna Kirk asked me to bring them something.”

The kid smiled and only then did Lily realize how sad he looked. His eyes lit up and his grin showed two missing teeth. “That’s the medicine the doctor makes for my ma. She’s home,” he said, extending his little hand to grab for the bottle.

“I would like to talk to her.” Lily sidestepped his grasping fingers. She was pretty sure her grandmother hadn’t brewed anything dangerous, but she didn’t want to give it to a little boy.

“You can’t.” The boy’s smile flew and he pouted.

“You just told me she’s home.”

“You can’t,” he repeated, his tone going shrill as he prepared for a full-out tantrum.

“Look, I just want to tell her—”

The boy’s cries cut Lily off, his lungs giving their all as he wailed and wailed. Lily’s mouth hung open. She stole a glance back. Perhaps she could come back later, when Mr. McEnroe was home after work.

“Peter,” said a soft voice from the inside. As if by magic, the boy, Peter, fell silent. “Be polite to the nice lady and let her in.”

“But you’re supposed to rest,” he protested, his lower lip quivering.

“I promise you I won’t get tired just seeing her.” There was a smile in that affectionate tone, but then the words got cut short by a coughing attack. Peter rushed back inside, and since he had left the door open, Lily followed him.

The house was small, humble. They didn’t want for anything at first sight, but they didn’t seem to own anything unnecessary either. There was no hall, just a living room and a bedroom that opened straight into it. There, Peter climbed onto a bed where a woman was lying. She couldn’t be old, not likely over forty, but she looked sunken and consumed amid the white linens. Still coughing weakly, she patted the boy’s head and offered a small gesture to Lily.

“Welcome,” she said, between heavy breaths. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you some tea, but…”

“No, don’t worry about it.” Lily felt bad enough for pressing the visit. There was no need to add mooching to the list. “I just wanted to bring you this.”

Ms. McEnroe nodded and gestured to Peter to get the small bottle. This time, Lily surrendered it without complaint and he busied himself with the pitcher of water that rested on the table. With more care than befitted his age, he poured a spoonful of the liquid and mixed it with deliberate gentleness. Then, beaming with pride at a task well done, he wrestled the pitcher over to his mother, who got a glass, and once more, patted his head. Lily felt like an intruder.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” she asked.

The woman drank her glass and gave her a frail smile. “You’ve done enough bringing the medicine. Thank you.”

“I…” Lily hesitated. “I think you should probably see a doctor about that,” she said. “A real one,” she added when she remembered the title the little boy had bestowed upon her grandmother.

The woman shook her head. “Already did, first thing. This is not for them to cure, though. It needs a faerie doctor to go away, and thanks to Mackenna, I’m almost well again.”

Lily went to protest, but bit back her words and frowned. Ms. McEnroe’s voice had sounded a little bit stronger, less pained. Her breathing didn’t seem all that labored… or was it her imagination?

“Okay,” she said at last. “I guess I’ll head back home then. But if you do need something…”

“Be safe on the way back,” Ms. McEnroe said. “Peter, be polite and show the nice lady to the door.”

Peter gave Lily a suspicious look, not willing to overlook or forget the fact she had tried to withhold his mother’s medicine from him, but still, he complied and even managed a wave as Lily crossed the edge of their yard into the forest.

This time around, she found the correct rock with ease and the way across the road to the burned tree took only a little over thirty minutes. She walked up to the blackened, twisted thing that had been swallowed back by the greenery around it and gave it a little, vindictive kick. Like touching base. She was getting the hang of these instructions. Then she turned to the right, ninety degrees, and—

“Grandma!” she shouted, taking a hurried step back and nearly toppling over the tree’s remains. “What are you doing here?”

Mackenna stood not three feet away, her white hair neatly combed, her eyes still tired and her smile a little bleary. She hadn’t changed clothes, still wearing her dark blue, knee-length skirt and prim white blouse, but she had straightened them up a bit after the night’s work. She didn’t say anything.

“Why did you come? You are supposed to be resting, Grandma.” Lily did some quick calculations in her head. Even getting it right the first time, this place was at least a quarter of an hour from her home at her own pace. When constricted by age and a walking cast, that distance could easily seem double. “This isn’t funny, Grandma,” she said with a frown. “Maybe you can stand and move around at home, but you certainly can’t do this.”

“Don’t you trust me to know what I can do? Such an issue with trust you have. It’ll be your undoing, you’ll see. Not having it, losing it, misplacing it, betraying it.”

“What?” Lily blinked.

“Go home, dear,” Mackenna said, disregarding her confusion. “I’ll follow you in a moment.”

“Wha...? No. No way. I’ll walk you back. It’s okay if it takes a little longer.”

Mackenna shook her head. She walked, limping only slightly, and perched down on the burned stump. “You go ahead,” she insisted. “Just now I feel myself faint. Go home ahead and bring me a shawl and a little fruit.”

“Grandma, be reasonable.”

“I’ll wait for you here.” Mackenna smiled. She spoke quietly but with all the authority of a queen, and Lily found herself nodding.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay, you stubborn woman. I’ll be back as fast as I can… Don’t move from that spot.”

“I will not.” Another smile.

Lily fast-walked the first few yards away from the burned tree trunk and then she began to run.