The Worst Healer
Copyright© 2026 by InSpite
Chapter 2
Clara always had a temper.
Mortals were just so short-sighted and petty and selfish, and all she ever did was try to help them.
She’d never given in to her temper before though. She’d raised her voice and been petty or petulant, but she’d never ... she could barely even comprehend this ... pushed a mortal to their death.
The reality of what she’d done only took a moment to hit her, and, screwing her eyes shut in frustration, she did the only thing she could think of to fix this.
“ROSE!” she screamed.
“Yes sister?” came the soft whisper as, in a soft glow of light, Rose appeared beside her.
Rose was taller and slightly older-looking, but otherwise almost a copy of her younger sister, with a serene smile on her face despite the younger girl’s obvious wild-eyed panic.
“He’s faaaaalling.” She gestured madly at the hole. “Save him, pleeeease.”
“Oh,” Rose peered into the hole for a moment. “Why is he falling?” she asked calmly.
“I pushed him.” Clara gushed out, bouncing up and down in exasperation, “Rose, come on!”
Rose let out a soft laugh as she waved her staff towards the hole. “Calm down, Clara. I wasn’t going to let him hit the ground.”
“Oh, by the Goddess! Thank you, Rose, thank you so much.” Clara sank down to sit on the wall, peering down at the rushing ground below.
Rose gestured again.
The view shifted back to the Great Healer.
“Now, Clara, could you tell me ... why is the Great Healer still dying, why did you push a mortal out of the heavens and ... where is your staff?”
A short explanation later, Rose shook her head, gently scolding Clara. “You’ve made a few mistakes here ... and we’ll address them in detail later, but for now, we’re going to pay someone a visit.”
“Who?” Clara asked nervously.
“There is apparently a great man ... in his seventies, who teaches children. Despite his appearance, the Great Healer is only 37. Let’s see if this trainer would like a chance to roll back the years and become a healer ... and this time, Clara, we’ll make an offer, not a demand.”
I jolted awake, confused by what I thought was a strange dream. A girl, surrounded by bright light, told me I had to become some sort of obese doctor, and then I was falling.
My confusion wasn’t helped by my surroundings. I was in a forest glade.
Light dappled through the leaves of the trees above, falling in patches on the short grass. A stream bubbled by on one side of the clearing, a series of smooth rocks flanking it. Wildflowers grew in the larger patches of light, while huge mushrooms loomed in the darkness of the deeper forest beyond and a toad the size of a washing machine watched me carefully from the glade’s edge.
“Fuck.” I sighed to myself as a tiny, winged girl flitted out of the forest for a moment before darting back into the trees, drawing the toad’s attention away from me as it bounded off in the direction she’d come from.
It was starting to sink in that this wasn’t a concussion. It was either a full-blown mental breakdown or ... I wasn’t in Kansas anymore, or Camden for that matter.
I made a decision. I wasn’t going to deal with this right now. Giant toads. Little people with wings. Strange girls up in the sky ... I could sit here and go crazy thinking about it or I could get moving. If the toads are that big, what else is in that forest?
If you get lost, you’re supposed to stay put, but no one knows I’m here or that I’m lost, so that doesn’t work. Working out directions wouldn’t do me any good as I didn’t know where anything was, so following the stream seemed like the thing to do.
Two hours later, after a lot of stumbling through the forest, my little stream had been joined by a few friends and was now ... a slightly bigger little stream. I wasn’t sure of the exact requirements for being a river, but I didn’t feel we were there yet.
I’d repressed a lot of odd sights and some noises that would be back to haunt my nightmares if I ever felt safe enough to sleep, but I’d finally come to a path.
I sat down and drank a few handfuls of water from the stream. I’d been putting it off, not sure if it was safe to drink, but it looked like me and the stream were parting ways, and I didn’t know where I’d find water again.
A path meant two things, people – or at least creatures that used paths – and a choice of directions. Downstream was an easy pick, but now I had left or right.
The stream swung close to the trail before veering off again and, having no other frames of reference, I picked the direction that was closest to the way I’d already been travelling. Left it is.
Another hour, and left looked like the winner. The path left the forest. I could see it winding down a valley below me before joining a cobbled road and heading into a walled town.
Clear of the trees, I could also see that the sun was starting to get low on the horizon.
With more time, I’d probably have scouted around or kept an eye on the town for a while to see who – or what – came and went from it, but the prospect of spending a night outside with the screeching forest creatures spurred me on.
I had the best part of another hour as I made my way down the valley. Enough time to see that the townsfolk looked like me – from a distance at least – and that the number of them coming and going through the town’s gate was slowly dwindling as I approached.
Hurrying myself along as I left the track and joined the road, I passed a few travellers. To my great relief, a man in simple brown clothing nodded in my direction and greeted me with “Evening.”
I replied in kind with a grin. People, and they spoke English! Now my only worry – well, next most immediate worry – was getting through the gate. Was there a badge system, or ID ... I had my driving licence in my wallet. What if there was a toll or an entrance fee?
My doubts made me slow my steps. The gate towers loomed large before me and as I stopped to glance up at them, a shout from the guard at the gate made me startle.
“Oi!”
He gestured towards me with a spear, the movement causing his scaled armour to catch the last of the fading light. I fought panic for a moment, considering turning to run before he followed up with “We’re about to shut the gate, hurry up if you’re coming in.”
I hustled forward, beyond grateful that he was hurrying me along rather than turning me away. “Thank you ... Evening.” I managed to blurt out as I quickly marched through the gate.
My relief didn’t last too long. Having been so focused on getting to the town and whether I’d be welcomed, I hadn’t spared much of a thought on what I’d do if I got my way.
I’d found people, and I was out of the forest, but I didn’t have much idea about this place, where I could stay or how I could afford to eat.
Lanterns hung at a few of the street corners, and some of the houses had lights coming from them. I could see a row of what looked like closed shops and even on one corner what had to be a pub ... or inn or tavern, whatever they called it. It was where these people drank.
I made a mental note of where it was so I could return and decided I’d scout around the town a little more. I’d learn the layout; keep an eye out for a place I could crash for a night without getting in any trouble and try to find some sort of work in the morning so I could eat.
Food, water and shelter, I’d concentrate on the immediate and worry about bigger issues when I wasn’t about to die of exposure or starvation.
After around an hour, I’d mentally mapped out the town – very roughly dividing it into four parts in my mind: Shitty Quarter, Posh Quarter, Middle Quarter and the Merchant’s Quarter – or at least that’s how I’d labelled them.
The Posh Quarter was the only place I’d seen guards patrolling the streets. The Middle Quarter seemed normal, but the Merchant’s Quarter had a decent amount of warehouses and workshops scattered around ... I thought about mentally re-labelling it the Industrial Quarter and finding a little corner of it to sleep in until I came across the Shitty Quarter.