Everything about you was different.

Your skin was darker than the other villagers, your knowledge of herbs, medicines, and other things was extensive compared to theirs, and you willingly isolated yourself from the village. Instead of living among the others, you holed up in a broken-down hut on the outskirts of town and nestled in the forest.

You had spent weeks fixing the place and making it look nice, but that didn’t change how they treated you. You were found unconscious at the edge of the village, with no real explanation of how you got there, and you couldn’t remember anything before that.

Their religion dictated you as an outcast and ‘devil woman’ because of your knowledge, ‘potions,’ and ‘witchcraft.’ They were scared that you knew how to help and heal people, and what they didn’t understand, they labeled as witchcraft.

Victor was the only one who didn’t care; the only one who went out of his way to come to your little hut and spend time with you. You thought he was strange due to the way behaved but it didn’t change your feelings about him.

At the very least, you weren’t completely alone and that was all you could ask for.

“I got ya those plants ya needed. Real dangerous too; good thing ya asked me.” He grumbles at you as he sets the small bag of herbs on your wooden table, his eyes flickering across your small living area as you work on making new salves.

“Dunno why ya help any of ‘em; they don’t appreciate ya.”