Navid, who had only resumed his pleasant rest an hour ago, heard the commotion and startled awake. It took seconds for him to realize he must have frightened Miss Myra when he bolted upright so quickly, but for the moment his concern was too focused on the noises outside the wagon. Regretfully he made no move to act beyond staring out the window as if to assess the situation – doing his best to pretend this was normal.

But as his eyes scanned the sky he realized an all too familiar kind of storm brewed and boiled in the not too distance fairgrounds. It was then he suddenly stood up and immediately hissed while his still bandaged feet painfully proclaimed their dislike of his deliberate disregard for their injuries. Admittedly he probably would have fallen back to the bed had Myra not been there to lend a gentle hand.

“I am well, thank you.” He replied with a painful smile while he weighed out his options and carefully considered her situation. Navid knew something was wrong and he might just be needed to help. However in his current state he was also next to useless. He could ask Myra for help, but he also did not want to take her into the storm for fear the trauma it might cause her barely healed soul. But he could think of no other options but to take the poor dear with him.

“Please trust me we need to go out there soon,” he said as he took her hand quickly and then released it as he tiptoed cautiously toward his bags. “I need to make a small thing first, but I want you to pack any pouches I give to you.” 

After he handed her an empty bag he began to pass different herb pouches to her, all of them vastly different shapes, sizes, colors, and fabrics. Some were closed with cords, others were tied with simple string, not a few ringed quietly as vials clanked against one another, and then there were the four closed with silver pins. Between the trades he would sometimes pause, open a pouch and remove an herb which he then set between them. The last thing he did was remove one of the silver pins from one of the other pouches he possessed and set that with the tiny pile.

“Pack anything else you think I might need.” Then he looked up at her and with a smile he added, “I think you might be better at finding anything I missed, signorina.”

His eyes fell to the pile then, quick hands beginning to work their own magic. A simple spell he concocted when he met a group of Travelers in his youth. Even now he hummed out his own instructions to himself as he crafted the little trinket. 

“Give the black threaded star,” he wrapped an anise seed in black thread before picking up a three sprigs of angelica, “To a bright trio of angels.” Then he picked up a picked up a group of lilac flowers and an orange cord. 

Navid’s hands went to work to tie the sets together to the silver pin while he continued his little spell. “Gift the trio royal flowers, wrapped in sunny cord. Tie them to a shining pin, one crafted from the Moon’s metal.” Then he carefully snatched a piece of cloth near Myra’s collar and pinned the little collection to her clothes. “Place these sisters on your chest, and you will be safe from the rest.”

After he exhaled deeply he smiled at Myra, and held his hands up in mock defense before she could speak. “Before you say a word, I have run too low on orange cord to craft another for myself. But so long as one of us is protected and strong, then we can all are saved from doubt.”

As he began to make his way out ever so slowly and carefully, he talked while he walked as if to distract himself from his trembling footsteps. “Each color has a meaning, each plant as well. The black thread would normally apply to spells involving the dead, but wrapped around a seed it sows new and humble beginnings. The orange cord is encouragement, wrapped about the lilacs it gives the angels even more strength to ward off evil spirits. I am now hoping that perhaps-!”

Just as he was about to mount the horse Edimér had left behind, Navid gasped rather dramatically as the hound – Jasper, he reminded himself - bounded toward Myra and his miserable self. “No! Stop! None of that. To your master. I know. Go back and we will be right behind.”

He offered his hand to Myra once he was seated in the saddle. When he thought she made a move to hand him his satchel he flashed a mildly amused smile of gentle admonishment. Once her hand was in his, he hauled her up and into the saddle. As he snapped the reins he said with a weak and nervous laugh, “You know I have never had an assistant before, although I could get used to it.” He was a little scared right now but Jasper proved quite easily that Navid was needed at least by Edimér if no one else.

When they arrived in front of the ring of Travelers, he let Myra slide down first, before carefully following her to the ground – although his drop was followed by a shudder and muffled grunt. With a quick inhale and a light laugh at the pain, he began to hurriedly tiptoe to the only one on the ground. He beckoned Myra closer as he got near the daughter and father.

Amber eyes scanned the man from head to toe as he began to pull out vials from his pack with a nod to Myra as he opened it. While he began to mix his ingrediants he asked questions, “Was your father attacked? What was he doing before that moment? Did he clutch his chest? How long as he been like this? Can you keep him awake?” To each question, save the last, he adjusted his mixture accordingly. Willow salt, finely crushed parsley, two juniper berries, the last of his dragon’s blood, and a half vial of lavender honey was mixed together until it was a loose paste until it became the color of amaranth petals. 

At the moment Navid was unsure at this moment if it was age alone that had caused the Traveler’s leader to fall but took no chances. If it was natural, then the earth would need to wait to stake her claim. If it was the magic of imps then this should dispel it at once. But with Chavi’s encouragement – because Navid could swear on his ancestors – nothing could force a nearly dying man to move except the voice of a beloved daughter. “Please stay with us Master Traveler. I know this is a bitter spice but it strengthens the heart and soul.” Small spoonfuls of gooey medicine was the best he could prescribe. If something else was wrong there were other methods but their chance of saving a man were too insignificant to count on.