Stephanie woke up not feeling well at all. Her back was still smarting from the scratches she had received from Whimsy, and her head ached horribly. When she sat up, she became so dizzy she had to lie back down. Perhaps she should not have ignored her injuries of the previous day, but she had really thought they were nothing to worry about. Perhaps they still weren't.

She slowly sat up and swung her legs over the side of her bed. Still a bit dizzy, but not as much. Cautiously she stood up, and immediately sat back down. She felt as if she were going to throw up, not that there was anything in her stomach to regurgitate. Due to her ghost adventure, she had missed dinner last night, and had not had anything to eat since yesterday at lunch. That, she knew, was not good for someone in her situation. She would have to make sure she did not miss breakfast.

For that, she would have to get dressed. She managed to pull on her uniform with little problem, although the cloth rubbing against the scratches on her back caused her to wince in pain. Her boots were another matter entirely. Not only was she seeing four of them, but they felt really odd when she had them on ... like they didn't fit her very well. Had her feet grown overnight?

She also couldn't walk very well in those ill-fitting boots. Ohhh, no wonder they felt odd. Her boots were on the wrong feet! She corrected the mistake and sighed happily. Her feet didn't hurt anymore. But her headache was getting worse, and she still felt like she was going to throw up. Hopefully, nothing was wrong with her that a little breakfast wouldn't fix.

Leaving Whimsy still asleep on the bed, Stephanie left the room and headed for the cafeteria. When a dizzy spell had her clutching the wall for support, she turned around and headed for the infirmary instead. She didn't know how she made it, but eventually she found herself in front of the door. The two doors. No, only one door. It just looked like two.

Opening the door, the little blonde galdor stumbled inside.

Outside, in the courtyard garden of the infirmary, the spring season was evident in the plant life. Verdant shrubbery lined the red walls, yellow tulips and daffodils dotted the ground, and blossoming cherry trees shaded the walkway.

Inside, a healer sat by the window, watching the cherry blossoms as they surrendered to gravity and fluttered downward. She hated each and every one of them.

Why must the weather never match her mood? Here, the flowers bloomed sweetly under the warmth of the sun; there, a robin hopped amiably among tender shoots of grass. Everywhere, the sounds of spring wove together into a romantic symphony. And she felt...

She felt the rains could not come too soon.

The sound of the door broke her from her reverie. On seeing the girl stumble in, Abe was on her feet and swooping across the room to catch her. As she steadied waifish blond, she felt a brief, guilty relief. A new problem to distract her from-- No, wrong way around. This was not the distraction.

"My, my." Abe lightly held the back of her hand to the girl's forehead, checking for a temperature. "You don't look at all well, madam. What's your name?"

“Stephanie Trafalgar, ma'am,” she said. The girl was not fond of the infirmary. It was here that she had been sent after she fainted the first two times, here that she had lied about the reason, and here where she had awakened the third time, unable to lie any longer about the fact that something had been terribly wrong with her. This had been the place where she had found out they were going to send her home.

She supposed she should be grateful; if she had not been sent home, she probably would have starved herself to death. Then maybe she would have become a ghost like Herbie and left to wander around the crypts looking for people to eat. Only she wouldn't be wearing tattered rags. Her clothes would be clean and fashionable and everyone would want to be possessed by her because they liked her shoes.

What was she thinking? She shook her head to clear it of those very odd and rather morbid thoughts. Her dizziness intensified and she felt again as if she might throw up. She grasped the healer's arms for support. “I'm ok, really,” she said. She did not want to be sent home again. She'd already missed too much school already. “I just hit my head yesterday at the library and then afterward my osta scratched my back up because she got scared down in the crypts. And I haven't had anything to eat since yesterday at lunch. I'm supposed to eat, and ... well ... I didn't. That's probably all it is. Nothing serious. Not at all.”

Abe vaguely recognized the face and the name, but then nearly every student at Brunnhold had been to the infirmary at least once. Most did not have very interesting case files, and she assumed the girl's was unremarkable, or that she'd been seen to by healers other than herself. Otherwise, she might have better luck remembering. Probably.


A head injury, and a concussion by the looks of it. That the apparent symptoms -- dizziness and forgetfulness -- had persisted for this long was troubling, but there were other ways to assess the severity.

"When you hit your head, did you lose consciousness?" She asked softly, almost distantly. A tingling sensation suffused her skin where the girl grasped her arm. The touch was not exactly unpleasant, but any physicality was alien to the mentally-focused healer. Or maybe I'm just mental.

"Wait. The crypts? What were you doing in there?"

As she guided the girl to an examination room, she glanced about, muttering, "Now where did the nurses go? I'll need one to fetch your medical records while I take a look at you."

“Yes, I did,” Stephanie said. “But I don't think I was out for very long. I woke up by myself. There were a lot of people in the library. If it had been a long time, somebody probably would have found me.” She was very happy no one had. Her unconsciousness would probably have been attributed to her earlier illness and back home she would have gone. Sometimes she wondered if that would really have been such a bad thing. At home, she could be with Whimsy.

The thought of letting her osta go still made her sad. That was probably why she had not eaten last night, even though she had plenty of food in her room. She never wanted to eat when she was sad. She didn't even feel hunger.



Should she tell this healer what she had seen in the crypts? Or was she supposed to keep it a secret? She had not been told to keep her adventure to herself, so she assumed it was fine to talk about it. “My osta got away from me,”she explained as she followed Abe into the examination room. “She ran in the church and the door to the crypts was open. I didn't go want to go down there because I'd heard that it was haunted. But I couldn't leave my poor little kitten in there all alone. So I walked down the stairs, and followed her into this room with a lot of armor in it. And you know what happened then?” Her blue eyes grew wide. “A ghost tried to eat me!”

The examination room was a pure white affair, as clean and organized as one would hope it to be. Morning light filtered in through the high windows, illuminating the walls, along with an anatomical chart and a circular calendar.


"Hmm." A few minutes of blacking out was not too serious, but it was indicative of a slightly more severe concussion. One should check for signs of brain injury, anyway.

Assembling a list of questions in her mind, the healer did not appear to be listening to Stephanie's story. She lit a phosphor lamp and held it in front of the girl's face, examining her eyes. If the pupils were unevenly dilated... Ah, they look the same size. That's good--


The healer did not look suitably shocked. Her brow creased, but in an irritated way. Dark eyes rolled skyward, and a sneer curled her thin lips.

"I can't believe it!" She snorted, turning her back to Stephanie. The phosphor lamp was plunked back on the counter. Her hands were laid flat on the white surface, her shoulders tensing. She was incensed.

Abe thought aloud in a whisper; the sound barely reached Stephanie's ears. "How could they-- How dare they-- Why is that ghost even there!?"

The healer twirled to face her patient. The girl's symptoms could be from a very different condition. She tried to adopt a kind smile, but failed. It twitched.

"That thing didn't hurt you, did it?"

Stephanie blinked as the lantern was held up to her eyes. It was far too bright. As she spoke about her little adventure, she wondered about this healer. She seemed a bit distracted and ... well ... like no one the girl had ever met before. Not exactly strange, but different. Interesting.



And what was this? Why was she suddenly angry? Was it because Stephanie had been in the crypts? Everyone seemed to be mad at her for that. She had heard that other students went down there. It wasn't like she was the only one ... unless the tales she'd heard were simply stories meant to frighten younger students like herself.

The healer was muttering something. She couldn't catch it all but she did hear the word “ghost,” probably because the incident was foremost in the young blonde's mind at the moment. So the healer knew about the ghosts also. Did all the adults here know about them? She wouldn't be surprised.



Stephanie backed away a few steps when Abe whirled to face her. She didn't know what to think about the healer's facial expression, so she tried not to think of it at all.



Stephanie shook her head vehemently, and immediately regretted it. The dizziness assailed her again. She stumbled backwards, but this time she managed to get control of herself.

“No, ma'am, he didn't hurt me. He tried, though. Or maybe he didn't. The Everine said he wasn't harmless, so maybe he was just trying to be friends?” She ended the sentence on a questioning note because the idea that Herbie wanted to be her friend was quite ludicrous. But what did she know? She was kept in the dark about such things because she was young. Being young was tough.

Maybe this healer could tell her a bit more. She was a bit hesitant to ask, though. What if she snapped at her and told her it was none of her business?

“Do ... do you know a lot about ghosts, Miss ... ummm ...?" As she didn't know the healer's name, she let the question linger in the air between them.

"Ixbridge. Healer Abeline Ixbridge, at your service." She held out her hand, as much an offer of support as a greeting. Stephanie's dizziness was getting disconcerting.

"I must advise you to not go back to the crypts. Whatever the Everine say, ghosts are dangerous. Why they allow that thing to remain there is beyond me." The healer shrugged, clearly at a loss. Are they keeping it as a pet?!

"Fortunately, you're perfectly alert and don't seem to be at all confused about where or who you are." Abe cupped her hand on her chin, saying, "I am a little worried that you forgot to eat, but that can be attributed to your concussion. Or just general forgetfulness. Moons know, I forget to eat all the time!"

She chuckled, briefly, before wondering if she remembered to have breakfast that day. Was it just tea again? Might there have been a tea cake?

"At any rate, since you have had a knock on the head, your body will need some material with which to repair itself. Do eat." She smiled softly, knowingly, as from one absent-minded person to another. "And get some rest. I'll write a note to excuse you from classes for today and for the remainder of the week. You probably won't need all three days to recover, but if you do, you won't have to get out of bed and shuffle back here to get permission to shuffle back to bed."

Humming a merry tune (Stephanie would recognize it as 'Larks in the Morning,' a pun-filled aria from Fruvini's The Judge of Muffey), the healer went back to the counter, producing a key from her pocket. Only one drawer had a lock; she opened it and retrieved an official-looking stack of forms. It was striated with three colors of carbon paper.

"Can't be too careful. You'd be amazed the extent to which students will go to forge a Healer's note."

Stephanie was not sure what to do with the healer's proffered hand, so she took it and shook it hard. Wasn't that what you were supposed to do?



“But ... but I shouldn't trust the Everine?” The girl was a bit confused. It had nothing to do with her injuries; she just wasn't all that smart. And she was determined to go back to the crypts. The horror was fading quickly, replaced by the perceived invincibility of youth. “And ... well ... maybe the ghost belongs there? He came from a room where there was an open tomb. Maybe it was his. If so, then I think he was a Seventen when he was alive, because some of the armor there had their insignia on it.” She hoped she didn't get in trouble for pushing that suit of armor over. If her parents had to pay for it, they weren't going to be very happy with her.

She listened as Abe continued speaking about her injuries. She was glad that it was nothing serious. She didn't really forget to eat ... the problem was much deeper than that ... but she really didn't want to go into it now. Or ever. And while she would not go to class today, she planned to go tomorrow. She couldn't miss much. Hopefully, a day of rest would be enough. It did sound tempting just to lie in bed all day with Whimsy. Maybe she could arrange to have her meals brought to her dorm. If she could eat at all.



Stephanie barely heard Abe's words. That song she was humming ... she knew it. It was an aria ... from an opera. She wrinkled her nose, trying to remember. A few words came to her mind, then a few lines ... and she had it! “Larks in the Morning” from The Judge of Muffey. She remembered one time that the opera had been performed. She'd helped with wigs and costumes, and had even done a little set painting. And, of course, she had bugged the performers to teach her to sing. They'd probably only tolerated her because her mother was directing.

“Healer Ixbridge, do you like opera?” Her voice was a little excited. It wasn't every day you met someone who shared your passion. “I'm going to start learning to sing it as soon as I turn fifteen. My voice will be mature enough then. I'm going to be the greatest soprano the world has ever known.” She paused for a moment to catch her breath. “Oh, and there's these great echoes down in the crypts. I want to go down there and play with the echoes while I sing. I bet they can do amazing things with my voice. And ... oh.” She shut her mouth, realizing too late that she had just voiced her intention to visit the crypts again. Ooops.

“Do you sing as well?” she asked, hoping that, as Abe seemed a bit absentminded, she might be distracted enough that she wouldn't pay attention to what Stephanie had just said about the crypts.

"Never trust anyone's information. You may trust them, and you may trust they will act in what they think is your best interest, but no one knows everything. Especially when they say it's 'just so' because somebody else said so--" She tsked at herself; the scientific woman was waxing heretical. Someday soon, they'll be accusing me of corrupting the youth. "Nevermind."


"Hmm. He could be acting as a guardian.. maybe the Everine do know something useful for once. I hadn't considered that. I should've thought of going to them sooner.."

The idea hadn't entered her head, because she had difficulty thinking of them as a resource at all. They were so trusting in higher powers. So faithful. So.. creepy. Just thinking about it gave her a chill up her spine.

Abe may well have been more terrified of the Everine than she was of ghosts.


Abe nodded through the girl's excited bubbling, filling out the form with illegible, tiny cursive. Her smile proved she was paying attention, especially when it disappeared. Absent-minded though she was, the healer was not going to let this slide.

"No crypts for you, madam. If you're looking for good acoustics, try Long Hall. I know it won't have the same element of danger, but that may be a good thing, young lady." She smirked, eyes bright behind her round spectacles.

After signing the form with a quick flourish of her wrist, she held out the note for Stephanie to take. "And I do not sing. I would not inflict the public ear, or even a private vestibule, with my goosey noise. I do play the oboe, though." She flashed the girl a self-teasing smile. "It sings better than I do."

Truthfully, Abe loved her oboe. The music it made was an extension of her thoughts; it sung in a voice not dissimilar to her own, and communicated things she had no clue how to put to words. Effectively, it was a more expressive and better-tuned Abe.

"Perhaps we could play together in Long Hall sometime? My oboe and your voice? It could be fun."

The healer realized she hadn't done something for fun since.. when..? Fun? What's that?

“Uhhhh ... but ... ok.” Stephanie did not entirely certain what Abe was saying. You should trust people, but you shouldn't trust them completely? She had always thought the Everine, considering they were so close to the gods, always spoke the truth. So the ghost was really dangerous after all and she really shouldn't go back to the crypts? But those echoes ... they called to her.



The young blonde tilted her head to the side. Healer Ixbridge had mentioned ghosts before, as if she knew more about them than she was letting on. “The Everine ... at least the one I met ... was really nice. She seemed to know a lot about ghosts. Have you met a ghost, Healer Ixbridge?”



The girl rolled her eyes, belatedly realizing she was being unintentionally disrespectful. “I know where all the good acoustics in Brunnhold are. I've known for years.” Coming from a fourteen-year-old, that sentence sounded ridiculous, although to Stephanie it sounded quite worldly. “Ever try the girl's bathroom? That's a great place to sing. Echoes and acoustics are two different things. Good acoustics amplify your voice, but echoes actually change it, distort it in interesting ways. But ... I promise I won't go down into the crypts again.” Not today, anyway.



Stephanie took the note and carefully folded it. So Abe didn't sing, but she could play an instrument. You didn't have to sing opera to enjoy it. Orchestras were important to opera, too. “I'll bet your oboe would sound great in the crypts,” she said without thinking. “It would probably sound so good it would scare all the ghosts away.”



“Yes, I would really like that. Can you play by ear? Like if I sang a song, could you play it? I sometimes make up songs in my head. I can read music, but I can't write it. If you can write music, maybe we can create some songs together. And maybe we can even perform them."

"Perform?" A dreamy look came over the healer, and she whispered, "I haven't actually performed in years..."

It all came flooding back to her. The grueling hours of practice, the rehearsals, the laughably tangled web of romances between members of the orchestra club, and sixteen-year-old Abby in the middle of it, and yet alone, smirking with her perfectly-tuned oboe. And then, the moment of truth. The curtains went up, the lights were bright enough to hide the audience in the glare... except for people wearing glasses. Their lenses reflected whatever was on stage, and if you knew someone by the shape of their spectacles, you could tell if they were watching...

Watching.. like ghosts?

Abe inhaled deeply, then shook her head skeptically at Stephanie. "You had me going for a minute there." She replaced the stack of forms in the drawer and bumped it closed with her hip. Her arms crossed as she leaned on the counter, and she looked at the girl appraisingly.

"Tell you what. I can write music. I'll teach you how... but only if you promise not to go into the crypts. I hate to be an adult about this, but you don't know the risks." Her tongue thoughtfully traversed her lips, as though she were debating continuing.

"Ghosts possess people. That means they take over their minds. At first, they make some kind of mental contact. Did you see anything unusual.. things that weren't really there? If so, that means the ghost already has a backdoor into your head. If you do go back there.. your body might come out, but you won't be the one controlling it."

The healer frowned, almost guiltily. "At that point, only a powerful Warding spell will be able to save you. And, I suspect, if they don't get to you soon enough, you might be lost forever."

After a pause, Abe lightly tapped a cool finger on Stephanie's hand. "I'd hate to see that happen to such a promising young soprano. I'd like to see you shattering the Aeterna's chandelier someday. From a distance, mind you."

The aspiring soprano smiled at the thought of shattering the Aeterna's chandelier. She didn't think it had ever been done ... with or without magic. Her mother had told her that some singers broke glass by combining their voice with magic, but to Stephanie, that was cheating. She would do it with her voice alone or not at all.

She considered Abe's speech about ghosts. Herbie had sent her an illusion ... an illusion of her on stage about to sing opera. That was the frightening part. The ghost seemed to know her thoughts. It had crafted a vision of what she wanted most in the world. Was that how they possessed people? The person became so enamored of the illusion that they didn't notice the ghost was about to eat them? Is that what would have happened to her if she had not ignored the illusion and pushed down that suit of armor? And would it now be easier for it to get to her now that it knew what she liked? She shivered just thinking about it.

She didn't want to be possessed, not only because she would have no control over her own body but because the ghost probably wouldn't know which shoes went with which outfit or how to do her hair properly. What if it botched up her makeup? No, she did not want to be eaten by a ghost.

But what if she could make her mind really blank? No, that would never work. Her mind was always going in a bazillion directions all at once. She'd tried to learn how to meditate once, but she couldn't keep her mind on keeping her mind on nothing.

Maybe she should stay out of the crypts ... at least until she became stronger in magic, or until she found someone to go with her who was stronger in magic. She had a goal now for learning the magical arts ... to get good enough so that ghosts wouldn't be able to hurt her. She was going to concentrate harder on learning it from now on. The echoes would always be there, and Stephanie wasn't going anywhere either. Not for several years anyway.

“Ok, Healer Ixbridge,” she said. “I'll stay out of the crypts if you teach me how to write music. I promise.”

"Thank the stars," the healer exhaled, visibly relaxing. Her posture slackened as her worries were released with the heavy breath, and her field eased into a comfortable calm.

Stephanie might not have known it, but she was witness to a rare sight. For a brief moment, Healer Ixbridge was not the high-strung, responsible, reserved adult who knew exactly what to do in any emergency, but a thoughtful, caring, and vaguely unhappy young woman who muddled through life as best she could. She was just a person, quite capable of mistakes.

"So much easier the second time around..."

Alisoina!

The problem was, her mistakes could cost others their lives.

Have I done enough for her? She seemed alright afterward, but -- Diligence, Abe!

Her fleeting relaxation suddenly vanished as the gears of anxiety wound her up again. This was only natural, as the base state of her mind was an active one. The healer was now back to her usual tense self, and she began pacing to expel the excess energy.

If she did not have real problems to latch onto, her mind would still be whirring -- but it would travel aimlessly, chaotically darting off to who-knows-where.

It scared her a little.

"Good. Right. Music. When would you like to do that? Will you be around during the break? I will be, but I might be indispos- er, out sometime early in the week. Maybe after the 6th?"

Stephanie was puzzled when Healer Ixbridge seemed to change, and then change again. She was a very interesting person. Hmmmm... her magic had to be stronger than Stephanie's. Perhaps she could convince the healer to visit the crypts with her ... on the excuse of doing a musical experiment perhaps. She wouldn't really be breaking her promise if Abe was with her.



“Anytime is fine with me. I just arrived yesterday and haven't had any time to make plans. I'll be here during the break ... my parents are going traveling.” They were probably already on their way, and she had left them less than a day ago. They had certainly wasted no time getting away from her. She knew they loved her, but her illness had been hard on them. Perhaps they deserved a vacation, but it still made her bitter.

The good part was that she would be able to keep Whimsy with her for a few more weeks, even though it was really just prolonging the inevitable. She had been planning to file those complaints this morning, but it looked like she'd have to postpone it until tomorrow. She wasn't as dizzy as she had been when she'd first entered the infirmary, but she certainly didn't feel her best ... and she didn't look it either. If you were going to request an audience with the headmistress, your appearance had to be flawless.

Stephanie sighed. She needed the osta with her. She'd never be able to eat right if Whimsy was taken away. The kitten was necessary to her ... an idea formed slowly in her mind and she glanced at Healer Ixbridge. If she confessed her problem with food, would the woman be able to help her in her fight to keep Whimsy? There was a bit of risk involved. She may decide that Stephanie was still ill and send her home again. She seemed so nice and understanding, though. Perhaps it was worth a try.

“Healer Ixbridge,” she said shyly. “May I ... may I ask you something? Something about my health?”

Still pacing, the healer didn't seem to hear a word Stephanie said. She assuredly cared about the girl, if in a distant sort of way, but there was a very difficult mystery tugging at her brain. She had the sinking feeling she couldn't solve it.

I've read everything I can find about ghosts, twice, and I still don't know what to do about Miss Denore. There must be more, somewhere... and the Everine might have it.

Abe did not relish the idea of speaking with the priests. Given her inherent tendency to doubt, she always felt like a foreigner when on church grounds. She feared they would treat her like a spy.

Perhaps I could get Master Vespasian to--


Abe stopped dead in her tracks. A look of shock came and went, along with a tiny gasp.

"You're still here?" Flushing slightly, she blinked, processing what had been said. "Uh.. y-yes. Certainly." She smiled softly at Stephanie, her attention finally catching up to the here-and-now. The girl wanted to know something, apparently. Abe was always happy to elucidate. "Please."

Startled, Stephanie stumbled back a few steps and her blue eyes widened. Healer Ixbridge was certainly absentminded. She thought that Stephanie had already left when she hadn't even agreed to a day when the two of them could discuss writing music. Probably because she never intended to teach me in the first place. She was just trying to get me to promise not to go in the crypts again. But I don't have to honor my end of it if she doesn't honor hers. Adults! I will never understand them! I don't even know if I wish to be one.



If there was one thing Stephanie hated, it was feeling as if she was imposing on someone. That's exactly how she felt now. Healer Ixbridge probably had her mind on something a lot more important than helping a silly girl who couldn't eat properly. She looked down at the ground. “Ummm .... never mind. Forget I said anything.”

"No, no. I must apologize," the healer said quickly. "I really should stop doing that. Terribly sorry."

Abe frequently overlooked all manner of things, from fashion and pleasantries, to hallways and people. She considered it a chronic, incurable condition, and wouldn't trust herself with a plant, let alone a pet. She was sure even a mewling, clawing fuzzball would slip her mind; hungry and unloved, it would have to resort to chewing her ankles in desperation. And she still might not notice.

"What was it you wanted to know..?"

Abe, remorseful yet, was almost tempted to call her patient 'dear,' but vetoed the action as too patronizing. As a child, she hated to be called such idiotic terms of endearment, especially by strangers. They didn't know her. She might have been a prodigy of evil for all they knew. Why she wanted to use the term, she couldn't fathom. Perhaps she was turning into an old lady.. at the age of twenty-three.

She tossed her ridiculous musings aside and stepped back to make a brief visual examination of the girl before her. Something was nagging at the back of her mind, but she couldn't identify what. Stephanie was awfully thin...

Stephanie looked up again to see Healer Ixbridge gazing at her curiously. Should she say something? Or should she just thank her and leave? She didn't want to be sent home again. But ... but she did need help learning how to eat again, whether she was able to keep Whimsy or not.

“Well ...” she began, feeling as if she were digging a big hole she was about to bury herself in, “... I have this problem. I can't eat. I don't get hungry, especially when something is bothering me. See ... I was once really fat ... I mean really, really fat ... and I wanted to lose weight, so I quit eating. I got sick and had to be sent home. My parents gave me an osta, and she helped me to feel good about myself. I started eating again, and well, now I look like this. I'm still too thin, but I'm trying to eat. I really am.”

She looked down at the ground again. What was wrong with her? She usually delivered speeches with conviction and flair, the way she had done yesterday when she outlined her plan for allowing younger students to keep pets. Now she could barely speak coherently. “But it's hard. I don't get hungry when I'm sad. I brought Whimsy ... that's my osta ... with me. I didn't know they had changed the rules and I couldn't have a pet because of my age. Whimsy helps me ... I need her.” A single tear slipped out of one ice-blue eye. She wiped it off and looked up at Abe. “Or maybe I just think I do. I don't know. What I do know is that I didn't eat last night after I saw the ghost, and I really don't want to eat breakfast now. I'm just not hungry because they're going to send Whimsy away. Can you help me, Healer Ixbridge? I just want to be able to eat like everyone else. I want to be normal.”

A glimmer of recognition came to Abe's eye. So, she was that Stephanie Trafalgar. An interesting case, after all -- but a case the healer was not trained to deal with.

"I can help you, but only to a certain extent. I'll venture a guess that what you have is not a physiological pathology, but a psychological disorder of some sort. While psychoanalysis is still in its infancy, I've read enough to be relatively confident in its efficacy..." Abe coughed quietly, remembering she was talking to a fourteen-year-old and not a colleague.

"I'm going to refer you to a councilor by the name of Connie Greyhaym. She's a very nice person." Though Abe rarely met the woman, they had traded patients a few times. "She'll be better able to talk you through your.. uh.." The pause resulted from the healer's inability to find a constructive word for the girl's condition. "..thing."

"Until you're remedied of the unfortunate association between unhappiness and loss of appetite, we'll simply have to make sure you're not unhappy. I'll try sending a note to your Matron requesting you be waived from the 'no pets' rule." She briefly envisioned Stephanie starting a trend: Hordes of young girls starving themselves so they could keep their pets. A hunger strike. Utter mayhem. All Abe's fault.

After a moment of confusion, she brightened. "The music! Of course. Singing makes you happy, right? I wasn't kidding when I said I'd teach you to write music. I haven't had a chance to practice in..." She squinted dubiously. Can't possibly have been a year already, can it? "Anyway, I'm afraid I may be just a teensy bit rusty."

A small notebook was in her hand now, her pen poised above it, and she almost chipper. "Howsabout the sixth at sixteen o'clock? We can meet in Long Hall."

Sure, Abe did have an ulterior motive or two -- she wanted to keep the girl out of the crypts and eating. But, by the gods, she was going to enjoy herself.

Stephanie understood less that half of what Healer Ixbridge said, but she would go see this counselor she recommended. Perhaps she could help her learn to eat properly. It was worth a try. She was as tired of being too skinny as she had once been tired of being too fat. Her mother had told her she would have to get accustomed to her large bosom, just as she had done when she was young. It wasn't going away. Apart from that embarrassing attribute, she just wanted to look like everyone else. Normal. Not too skinny and not too fat.



Stephanie was so thrilled that she impulsively threw her arms around Abe and hugged her. “Oh, thank you, thank you! You don't know how much this means to me!” Of course, she knew Healer Ixbridge could only do so much. Her request might not be accepted. But there was hope now. Hopefully she could keep the kitten until she could get that rule overturned.

Embarrassed, she pulled away and stepped back. The sudden movement made her a little bit dizzy. She felt like she needed to go back to bed. “Sorry,” she muttered, but her blue eyes were shining with happiness.



“That's fine,” she said, smiling. She almost seemed like an entirely different girl than the one who had first come into the infirmary. “I'll be there. I promise.” Maybe she'd even bring Whimsy. “But now I think I need to back to my room and lie down for awhile. Thank you so much for all you have done for me.”

The hug caught Abe by surprise, and the sheer influx of tactile information overwhelmed her nervous system. Her brain fizzled. Her mind went blank. Bewildered, she simply stood there passively, unable to resist or return the gesture.

When the inundation of stimuli was withdrawn, she regained her senses rapidly enough to register Stephanie's apology. She mumbled, "Q-quite alright, madam."


"Splendid. All in a day's work." The healer glanced at her pocket watch, an eyebrow flicking up. "A morning's work, I should say."

Abe noted Stephanie's swift recovery, but held the door open for the girl regardless. She wavered there, offering, "Remember, you're always welcome here. And, erm, if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm the resident healer for the older girls' dorm. I can usually be found there after dinner."

She smiled the self-conscious smile of a helpless introvert. She truly had no life... except for that unforeseen and unlikely-to-be-repeated dinner with Moore. Oh, and the ghost business. Can't forget that.

It would be nice to have someone to talk with from time to time, and Healer Ixbridge seemed really nice. Stephanie was quit confused about some aspects of growing up, but what she was confused about was really too embarrassing to ever say out loud. Like her dreams. Sometimes they went places that she was not at all comfortable with ... and sometimes they were about other girls. She wasn't really certain if that was normal or not. She wasn't even certain if wanting to be normal was normal.

She'd see how it went when they practiced music together next week. She really hoped they got on well. It would be nice to have an adult friend, especially one who shared her love of music.

“I'll remember that,” she said, as she walked through the door the healer held for her. “And I'll definitely see you in the Long Hall on the sixth. I'm looking forward to it. Thank you again, Healer Ixbridge.”

With a little wave, she turned and walked back down the hall, just a little unsteady on her feet. If she could make it without becoming too tired, she might just stop by the cafeteria for some breakfast. She was actually feeling a bit hungry, and that was good.