The little girl's dainty hand shook the mysterious stranger's slim one vigorously. Her face fell as she did so. His glove had been hiding a palm of bony fingers, as slim as sticks. Enchantment was not a widely practiced art, adding to his mystery, and even more so that he could not afford a measly thirty-five Rupees. Well... sixty-five Rupees with the bottle, but semantics. This dark, strange man had wandered into the Hero of Time Festival with nary a Rupee, offering trade, and speaking of ne'erdowells that would seek to harm him. How could she not see this before? It was clearly spelled out right in front of her!
"Mister! You're all skin and bone!" she worriedly exclaimed, "You need to put some meat on your bones or you'll collapse in the street!"
Of course that was it! The man was a wandering mage, begging and crafting spells to pay for his next bowl of soup. The poor unfortunate soul must have come to the festival to panhandle and trade for a hot meal, but wanted to protect his twiggy body from the Moblins and Stalfos and Keese that would see themselves using his slender fingers as a toothpick. She began to write a story for him in her head as she rifled through her pack, conveniently still lying on the counter of her stall. He must have been a renowned magician at some point in his life, traveling the world much as she did in order to expand his knowledge of the arcane. But adventure takes its toll on the wallet and the body, and he soon resorted to the mercy of others and his wizard's tricks to get by. Unphased and humbled by poverty, the man kept on his grand quest, one that would bring him to the crux of all cultures in this tiny village today in order to learn more of the unknown! Wordlessly, Mila plopped her half loaf of bread on the wood before her and hopped behind her stall, sweeping the ivy across the enclosure much like makeshift curtains.

A dim, golden glow swirled ethereally around the shaded stall as Mila dug through her pack for her tools and equipment. She'd have to be extra super careful now that her goggles were being worked on, but everything would be fine! With her sack of potion ingredients, scales, beakers, and other such devices laid out on the ground neat and orderly, she pulled free her leather tarp. T'would be unwise to dedicate an entire cauldron to Kaboom Potion, and a pain in the neck to clean afterwards. Not to mention the opportunity for flying shrapnel and the very real possibility of leveling anything within a hundred meters of her booth. She counted out her ingredients in her head, her efficient numerical memory allowing numbers to dance before her eyes like an abacus. Dollop of Green ChuChu jelly scaled to the amount of potion, dribble of Deku Nut extract equivalent to almost an ounce, tablespoon of Biri toxin, no Dodongo pancreas but Dodongo blood could be used in a pinch, a dash of potassium nitrate, handful of rusty iron shavings, iodized copper for pretty green smoke, gunpowder... gunpowder... Hmm. No gunpowder.
"Oh, uh, I dunno," she answered the skinny gentleman. She didn't think that many of the villagers would let a street rat into their homes with welcoming arms, nor would there be an empty booth to hole oneself up in. The shade of the tree and surrounding buildings were occupied for the most part with chatty tourists, and she would ill advise him to seek solitude in the graveyard. There were Poes in the graveyard. Mean ones. She entertained the thought of creating some cloud cover with one of her magical sonatas, but didn't want to literally rain on anyone else's parade and get the ground all mucky and gross.
"Maybe the stables are free? I'm not from around her, Mister, I'm sorry I can't help you. Why don't you go enjoy the festival while you wait on your potion?" she repeated herself, focusing on combing her less dangerous dry ingredients to make the brewing process faster and more effective.
[i]"Are you sure this is a good idea, Mila?"[/i] her tiny golden sprite question, [i]"For all you know he could filch your goggles from under your nose and never return."[/i]
"I trust him enough, Shila. Even if he's a little creepy. Judge not lest ye be judged," she confidently sounded.
[i]"Mila, did we learn anything from the Gerudo Wastes?"[/i]
"Oh! I remember this one! 'Don't let Gerudo strangers watch your things or they'll rob you blind,' right?"
[i]"Don't let [u]any[/i] strangers watch your things, Mila. People take advantage of generosity, don't make yourself a victim."[/i]
"Meekness is not weakness, Shila. Did you see how malnourished that man was? His fingers could've snapped in my hands like twigs! If he decides to steal my goggles, he can go ahead and steal them. He needs the money more than I do." Shila sighed, drifting to settle on the rusty-haired child's head.
[i]"Do you even listen to yourself sometimes? You're not going to make any Rupees if you keep giving away all your things..."[/i]
"Not all the time. I just kinda talk and my brain gets distracted," Mila replied simply and honestly, "And it's all worth it as long as we do good in the world, right? I just hope he gets some food in him... maybe I can make him some onion stew? Oh, or cinnamon oatmeal! Or grilled cheese mushroom sandwiches! Or-"
[i]"Mila,"[/i] her fairy interrupted, [i]"Were you not doing something right now?"[/i]
"Oh, that's right!" she shifted back to reality, "I need a bomb, some water, and more food for the road!"

The Kokiri girl shouldered her pack and shuffled out of her little grass hut, becoming partially entwined in ivy on her way out, and left most of her brewing tools behind. They'd be fine for just a few minutes, she shant be gone long.
"I'll be right back~!" she sang, skipping down the crowded thoroughfare with her leather tarp folded in her arms in the direction of the tiny village's well.