Night Star was up and dressed before the others. She sat in the garden overlooking the ocean watching the sunrise over the horizon and
listening to the crashing waves and cries of the gulls overhead. Faeries flew from flower to flower along with the colorful butterflies and busy
little bees. She noticed the mating dance in the sky of two dragons far in the distance and smiled. The elf nibbled on fresh fruit and sipped her
flavored coffee with delight. It was so serene in the early hours of morn'. She turned as she heard a noise like an animal scampering around her
chair. She didn't see anything so she stood to get a better look. The cawing of crows filled the air as though they were disturbed by something
invading their space. Then she saw her...
A very small and pudgy old women with a bundle of sticks and grasses on her back was digging through the flowers and pulling up roots, placing them in
a basket of wicker. She saw that the elf was looking at her curiously. "What are you staring at, haven't you ever seen a tender before?" Night Star
blinked. "A tender?" asked Night. "Yes, I tend to the birds and leave them nesting materials. I also tend to the sick and injured animals with salves
and elixers of herbs and roots. I have many jars lining many shelves in my tree." Night was rather enchanted by the little old lady. "So you live in a
tree?" she asked. "Isn't that what I said? I thought that's what I said, I could be mistaken though, my mind sometimes doesn't work like it used to.
"Do you have a name? Mine is Night Star." "Night Star isn't a name, it's a thing. Hmmm, most unusual. Tenders don't care much for names, we are seldom
seen and seldom have use for them."
"But surely there are others like yourself." said Night. "Bah, perhaps there are still others like myself. I don't know where they are if they still
exist. I'll be out of your way shortly, just a few more roots here and I'll be on my way." The pudgy little tender gathered her materials and was
quickly on her way without so much as a goodbye.
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