Soon Hank departed from the inn, the town square, once welcoming him with a bustling of activity, had fallen into a quiet slumber.
The only sounds were the distant barking of dogs, the occasional creak of a window shutter, and the soothing chimes of the winds.
A chill wind swept through the streets, carrying with it the scent of smoke and damp earth.
Hank made his way toward the local herbalist's shop or in the direction he presumed.
The warm glow from the windows of the houses offered a sense of comfort, contrasting to the darkness that enveloped the town with the lurking unknown.
As Hank made his way deeper into the town, he realized the familiar sign dangling around the building's door, signifying their local specialty but none spoke herbalist.
But Hank wasn't going to give up, he spent more night hours identifying the buildings and paths, and kindly spent his time marking the map of the town while searching for the herbalist's shop, ensuring his time was wisely spent.
Meanwhile, his hard work didn't go unnoticed, he was later greeted by a scent of sweet aroma from the nearby stop.
As he turned, his eyes were captivated by a small building adorned with a spectrum of colorful flowers.
The shop was a small, unassuming building tucked away on a side street. It was adorned with colorful flowers and plants, creating a welcoming atmosphere.
The sign above the door read "Fo'rama Ben'toin," a name that Hank couldn't read out loud. "Flora's House," he deduced, translating the name from his limited knowledge of elven languages.
But thankfully, just about Hank concluded his deducement of its potential florist's hut, under the wavering sign, it stamped with an additional label, possibly added after the focal carving, "Herbalist," it wrote.
With a relieved sigh, Hank wrapped around his holster and trod toward the building's entrance.
A doorbell was tickled from its slumber as he stepped inside, letting out a jingly welcoming chuckle.
Realizing the counter was vacant, Hank quickly reassessed the shop that it remained operating and called out, "Hello?"
Luckily, just a few seconds passed, "Just a moment!" a voice replied from the back of the shop.
Meanwhile, Hank also heard the sound of objects being knocked over and a muffled yelp from the room at the back of the counter.
"Are you alright?" he asked, Hank's brow twitched, his concern growing.
"I'm fine, just a moment!" the voice replied wobbly as if the person was trying to cope with their mistake.
A moment later, an elf emerged from the back room, her face flushed with embarrassment, and an awkward grin was the clear-cut.
She was a vision of beauty, her features delicate, her eyes sparkling with intelligence, and her skin was as pale as a delicate porcelain. "How can I help you?" she asked, her voice soft and melodious.
Hank was momentarily stunned, his breath catching in his throat. The elf's beauty was undeniable, her features delicate and her smile captivating. He blushed, his face turning a deep shade of red.
"Excuse me," he stammered, his voice barely a whisper.
The elf was confused by his reaction, her eyes twinkling with amusement. She turned her head and watched him in wonder.
"Anyway, I'm actually here wanting to get hold of some bandages," Hank quickly recuperated himself, his embarrassment fading, pressing his tone back to his formality, and turning back to his business on hand in no time.
"Oh! Gladly! We do have bandages on the shelf!" the elf exclaimed, eagerly turning to reach for a shelf behind her.
However, her clumsiness was immediately apparent as she bumped her head on a shelf the moment she turned. "Ouch!" she yelped, rubbing the sore spot.
"Are you alright?" Hank asked, his concern genuine.
"I'm fine, thank you," she replied, a small smile playing on her lips. After a brief struggle, she pulled out a roll of bandages and handed them to Hank. "Here you go. I'm sorry about that."
Hank took the bandages. "It's okay," he assured. "By the way, your shop is beautiful. I've never seen anything like it."
The elf's face lit up with pride. "Thank you," she said. "It took me quite a while to decorate it."
"It must be impressive to wrap this all up for a few winters," said Hank as he caressed the delicately carved wooden pillar, posted just beside him, supporting the very foundation of the ceiling.
"Well… It took decades to complete! But it's no biggie!" The elf corrected.
Hank's jaw dropped. "Decades?" he repeated, his eyes wide with disbelief.
Hank scratched his chin, his mind racing with thoughts. "Right," he muttered to himself. "Elves are supposed to live longer than humans. Maybe a decade isn't a big deal for them."
He turned his attention back to the elf, who was still clumsily knocking things over. "By the way," he said, "I haven't caught your name."
The elf's eyes snapped up, a look of surprise crossing her face. "Oh!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with embarrassment. Just as she was about to introduce herself, she knocked over a vase, sending it tumbling towards the floor.
With a quick movement, Hank caught the vase before it could shatter. "Careful there," he said, handing it back to her.
The elf's eyes widened, and a blush crept across her cheeks. She took the vase, her fingers brushing against Hank's. "Luna'va," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Hank smiled, his heart fluttering. "Nice to meet you, Luna'va," he replied. "And thanks for the bandages."
Luna'va quickly averted her gaze, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. A moment of awkward silence followed as both Hank and Luna'va struggled to find something to say.
Hank unable to bear this awkward tension, broke the silence, his eyes scanning the shop. "It's getting late," he said, "I should be going."
Luna'va nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "Wait," she called out, realizing she had forgotten to say goodbye. "Please come again soon!"
As Hank turned to leave and waved his farewell, Luna'va clutched the vase tightly, her heart pounding in her chest. "I'm such a clumsy girl," she muttered to herself.
She placed the vase back on the counter, her movements frantic. Then, she remembered something. "Wait!" she cried out, chasing after Hank. "I forgot to ask your name!"
She skidded to a stop, her eyes wide with panic. As she rounded the counter, her knee collided with the counter, causing the vase she carefully placed knocked over and fall directly onto the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces thereafter.
Luna'va, her hand already by the handle, halted and stared at the wreckage behind her, her mouth agape. With a defeated sigh, she turned to retrieve the broom. "Oh," she muttered, her voice filled with despair, "Why this always happened to me…"