The following morning, Yulan awoke to the sound of many voices outside of his window. He jumped out of bed and quickly threw on a light coat and the closest pair of pants he could find. With one shoe on, he hopped while he pried on the other and gave his best effort to not fall down. Finally reaching the front door, he flung it open, alert to whatever danger got everyone out of bed at this ungodly hour.
“What has happened?” Yulan asked, looking back into his house. Lorna somehow managed to stay asleep. That woman could sleep through an avalanche.
As he began to rouse and shake away the remnants of slumber, he realized there was no fire or dangerous wild animal roaming about. The crossed arms and angry faces were directed towards him. At the lead of the group was Mrs. Lemmin, lips pulled together tight into an angry pout.
“Well Mrs. Lemmin, it looks like you just bit into, well, a lemon. Do you want to tell me the meaning behind dragging half the village to my door before the sun has even had a chance to rise?” Yulan asked in an overly kind tone.
“You know what this is about Yulan,” Caroline accused, spitting out every word, “everyone being sick yesterday, we know that girl of yours was somehow behind it.”
Yulan forced himself to remain calm; he was their leader in a sense, and they were scared. Scared people generally made poor decisions. Unfortunately, in a sense, they were correct. They didn’t need to know that, however.
“Caroline, I have to applaud you for being able to rile up the entire town over a seven year old girl and a case of food poisoning. It really takes commitment to take one’s delusion so far,” Yulan said with the same calm and disinterest as if he were discussing the weather. “Magical, malicious little girls make a whole lot more sense than simple food poisoning after all.”
Mrs. Lemmin’s face reddened, but a few of the others looked downwards towards the ground as if they suddenly realized how absurd their argument seemed against a little reason.
“Let me ask you,” Yulan deflected, “what did you hope to accomplish with this? Did this impromptu mob want to have a discussion about our daughter? Run us out of town with pitchforks? Maybe set a fire and burn the house down for hosting witches?”
A few more dropped their heads in shame.
“So it’s just a coincidence that all the children except your daughter got sick when they were playing with Sevra, and then I did too last night right before she ran away?” Caroline questioned.
“Yes, that is what you should believe because it makes sense,” Yulan answered. “And really I expect better from the lot of you.”
Most of the people in his village had misunderstandings in their previous lives, before coming to Shady Vale with Yulan. With so many local customs relatively close together, it was inevitable not everyone would see eye to eye, especially if it came to matters of ritual or religion. What was perfectly acceptable in one place might find one at the wrong end of a rope only twenty miles away. Simply predicting the weather, a perfectly innocuous profession, could be disastrous for a person if they did it in the wrong place.
“Caroline, you’ve been run out of your fair share of towns for selling those potions of yours, have you not? And here you are doing exactly the same to someone else, a little girl nonetheless? And Kayl,” Yulan continued, gesturing towards someone next to her, “every morning those runestones that you read. Obviously you’re a danger to society as well.”
“We just don’t want her harming our kids!” Another man shouted.
“Of all the dangers in the world, a little girl isn’t one of them,” Yulan responded. That seemed to deflate the last of them, other than Caroline.
“Caroline, I’ll gladly talk to you later today, but for now would the rest of you go home? I don’t want you to wake Lorna and the baby.”
As the others left Caroline stood there with her fists clenched. “I know that girl’s a danger and you’re just trying to protect her,” she said, “she doesn’t belong in this village.”
“You’ll have it your way soon enough,” Yulan said sadly, turning around and shutting the door on her.