Beauty Water, they called it. They said it came from birch trees. Birch Water it was called, until someone said there were no birch trees in that part of the South where Mirna stuck fence posts in the soil. Forget the Fountain of Youth; rumors spread about the Tree of Youth. Its sap was used, only a drop, into well-water to turn it into the elixir that instantly turned anyone back to their youth. It sold quickly to wealthy lords and sorcerers with too much coin, going to Mirna to purchase the town and see this Tree of Youth, but leaving with bottles of the water instead.
There was no price on the Tree of Youth. Those who wanted to buy it never came back to try again. Different rumors began to spread about the water, which everyone was willing to pay gold for. Those who used it disappeared, never to be seen again. Some people said it was because they were living new lives with all their years of wisdom and a fresh face. Others noted that the Tree of Youth took back whatever had been given. There were even a few rumors of people turning back the clock so much that they had turned back into what they were when in the womb.
But none of the rumors ever mentioned blood.
A wagon rattled on a road made uneven due to the onslaught of repeated traffic from mules and horses, oxen and yaks. Rocks and pebbles had been scattered about, usually not big enough to worry the wagoneer about a wooden wheel popping off. Now and then, a well-placed rock that was maybe too big would have everyone in the back of the wagon jostle into one another, packs and small purses jumping up in the air to be caught by hands and shoved back into their places.
The sky above was blue, with a few gray clouds that matched Etoile's eyes as she stared up. She could already see the storm forming. It wasn't like watching grass grow or bread rise; storms had many more intricacies than just going up. There was hardly a breeze, but Etoile guessed that by tomorrow, there would be a gale strong enough to blow the clouds close together until they mingled and turned dark and heavy with rain, lightning, and thunder. The air had yet to turn crisp and fresh with the promise of water.
Etoile couldn't wait for tomorrow. She continued humming her rain song, soft and subtle, leading the clouds towards her and the destination. She had heard about Mirna miles away while the airship stopped at Cloudskeep to refuel. That had been weeks ago, but as the airship came back to Kharsaga, the whispers of Mirna found Etoile there as well. Beauty Water, Tree of Youth: a special sap that turns anyone young. She didn't care about the claims; beauty meant nothing to her when she listened to the stars every night and could see them bursting behind her eyes.
Perhaps it was suspicion rather than her uncanny intuition. Maybe it was that one star, part of the Hunter constellation, that whispered something was amiss. She had to go to Mirna, trouble was brewing again. This star was an old star, more pink than white, and with quite a good memory. Mirna had a secret —a deep, dark, and dangerous one that spanned across centuries, hidden again and again until fate pulled a string to have it reappear. Within a few days, Etoile had made arrangements; a week later, she was on the wagon, less than an hour away from Mirna.
A canopy of branches and yellowing leaves soon obscured the sky. The trees soon created a tunnel for the wagon to ride through, ferns acting as untamed hedges. Any wildlife was quiet, only the sound of the heavy breathing from the oxen breaking through the silence. One woman cleared her throat; the sound filled with phlegm. She was short and round in every way, using a belt to add shape to her waist so her bosom and hips wouldn't bleed into each other. Etoile ignored the looks the woman gave her now, the same she had been giving her the entire time. She kept humming, pretending the mean blue eyes were two surly stars that had yet to open themselves up to her.