The more I explored the forest, the more I realized it was teeming with unknown plants, each one with potential. Every day, I took new samples, carefully recording observations and testing their effects. Some were promising; others had effects I didn't expect, and a few were outright dangerous.
But I had to be cautious. I'd gained the trust of the villagers, but it was a fragile bond. If one of my "remedies" went wrong, that trust could vanish in an instant. My medical knowledge was a thin shield, and in this world, failure could be deadly.
One evening, as I prepared a new salve from the red-leafed plant I'd found, Lora entered my hut, her expression serious.
"There's something I need to show you," she said, her voice low.
I set my work aside and followed her outside. The sun was setting, casting an orange glow over the village. Lora led me to the edge of the forest, where a young man lay propped against a tree. His face was pale, his breathing shallow. A thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead, and a dark bruise spread from his shoulder down his arm.
"He was bitten by something in the woods," Lora explained. "We don't know what. We've tried everything, but he's only getting worse."
I knelt beside him, examining the wound. The skin was swollen, the edges of the bite turning a sickly shade of purple. Venom, perhaps. I'd seen snake bites back home, but this was different—almost as though the venom was spreading faster than it should.
"Have you seen this kind of bite before?" I asked Lora.
She shook her head. "The forest holds many dangers. Some say it's cursed, that strange creatures roam its depths. Few go as far as he did."
Her words were unsettling, but I pushed them aside, focusing on the task at hand. This was unlike any venom I'd encountered, and it required immediate treatment. I rummaged through my satchel, pulling out a bundle of the spilanthes plant—the red-leafed herb I'd been testing. Its properties might be able to counteract the venom, but I hadn't tried it on a case this severe.
"Hold him still," I instructed, grinding the leaves into a paste. The young man moaned, his breathing shallow, but he didn't resist. With a cloth, I gently applied the mixture to the wound, hoping it would slow the spread of the venom.
The minutes ticked by in tense silence. Lora watched with a mix of hope and skepticism, her eyes never leaving my hands. I could feel the weight of her gaze, the pressure to succeed.
Slowly, the swelling began to subside. The purple color faded slightly, and the young man's breathing steadied. Relief washed over me, but it was short-lived. As I prepared to remove the cloth, a searing pain shot through my hand, like fire licking at my skin. I stumbled back, clutching my hand, and saw the same purple tint spreading along my fingers.
Lora's eyes widened. "What's happening?"
"I don't know," I managed through gritted teeth. The venom had somehow transferred through the salve—an effect I hadn't anticipated. Desperate, I dug through my satchel, my mind racing. I needed something to counteract it, but I hadn't found anything like this before.
I remembered the yellow-flowered plant I'd found earlier—one that seemed to neutralize pain and swelling. Quickly, I grabbed a handful, crushed it between my fingers, and applied it to my own hand. The burning pain eased, but I could still feel the venom, slow and insidious, creeping through my veins.
"Will that help?" Lora asked, her tone wavering.
"It's a temporary fix," I admitted, wincing as I felt the effects lessen slightly. "But I need something stronger."
Lora's expression turned grave. "There's an herb, deep in the forest. It's said to have powerful healing properties, but it's rare, and dangerous to find. Only a few know where it grows."
I didn't hesitate. "Where can I find it?"
Lora hesitated, glancing back at the village. "The old herbalist, Maren, might know. But she's...difficult. She doesn't trust outsiders."
"Then I'll earn her trust," I said firmly, ignoring the lingering pain. "Lead me to her."
With a nod, Lora guided me toward the outskirts of the village, where Maren lived in a small, overgrown hut. The place had an air of mystery, with herbs drying along the walls and small charms hanging from the trees. As we approached, the door creaked open, and an elderly woman with sharp eyes stepped out, eyeing me suspiciously.
"So, you're the stranger," Maren said, her voice like gravel. "The one who's been meddling with herbs."
"I'm trying to help," I replied, keeping my tone respectful. "There's a young man with a venomous bite. I've stabilized him, but I need something stronger—a plant that can counteract the venom."
Maren's gaze sharpened, and she looked at my hand, noting the faint purple tint. A flicker of interest crossed her face. "You tried to heal him and got yourself poisoned in the process. Foolish, but brave."
She turned and disappeared into her hut, motioning for me to follow. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of dried herbs and smoke. Shelves lined the walls, filled with jars of strange powders, roots, and plants I'd never seen before. Maren rummaged through a shelf, finally pulling out a small bundle of dark green leaves.
"This is what you need," she said, handing it to me. "But use it sparingly. It's potent, and too much could be as dangerous as the venom itself."
I thanked her and returned to the young man, carefully applying the herb to his wound. The venom's spread slowed, and his breathing eased further. By the time I'd finished, the purple tint had vanished from his skin—and from my own hand as well.
The village whispered about the incident for days afterward, some calling it luck, others a miracle. But I knew better. This world held secrets—some within the herbs, others buried deeper, in places yet to be explored. And with every cure, every discovery, I was pulled further into its mysteries.