Willow was awoken by Miss Mu clattering into their shared room late in the night. Moonlight reflected on the snow outside kept the room fairly bright, so he clearly saw how exhausted his mentor looked after her long trip. The qi in her core roiled moodily as well, signalling that whatever her mission was, likely hadn’t ended well.

  She sat in her bed and stared at her gloved hands for a few moments, the bed creaking under her weight.

  Willow sat up in his bed, which Mu quickly took note of. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake ya.”

  “S’fine.” He tried to assure her as he rubbed sleep from his eyes. “How’d it go?”

  The moodiness intensified, confirming Willow’s suspicions.

  “Terribly.” Was all she said on the matter, surprising him. Mu usually shared at least one or two anecdotes about her adventures, even the ones that ended badly.

  So this one had to have been especially bad. Which he supposed made sense since it took so long to complete.

  He hopped out of bed, wincing as his feet touched the ice cold floorboards. He crossed the gap between their beds and sat next to his mentor.

  He remembered what Maple used to say on the rare occasions when he’d been particularly moody from his brother’s teasing. “Wanna talk about it? It can help.”

  Mu sighed again, and Willow noticed that she didn’t seem to have her pipe out, which was somewhat rare. It was also usually a sign that his mentor was particularly mopey he’d noticed.

  “The whole trip was a mess thanks to the blasted weather. Even Rotter had trouble gettin’ through all the snow. By the time I’d gotten to the hamlet that’d called for aid there wasn’t a single survivor I could find. Managed to cull the spirit responsible, but that’s a cold comfort.”

  That sounded horrible. Willow couldn’t even imagine the weight of failing to save so many lives.

  The desiccated corpse of Old Ping flashed through his mind. That hadn’t happened for a bit. Before he shoved the intrusive thought away he had an idea.

  He hadn’t ever really shared this with his mentor, had he? He’d mostly just tried not to think about it. He’d heard that sharing your own tragic moments could help someone else feel better.

  Maybe this would help?

  “I couldn’t save Old Ping.” He said quietly, the accusing eyes of the mummified remains burned into his memories.

  Mu looked at her apprentice in concern. “Who’s that now? Did something happen while I was gone?”

  Willow shook his head, and not for the first time missed his longer hair.

  “Someone from home. She was the one who’d bound the Bloom.” He stared out the window, struggling a bit to think of what to say. Memories of all the times they’d interacted flashed through his head.

  Few were truly pleasant.

  “I never really liked her. Her qi felt wrong, and she made a fuss about me binding Eos.” It felt wrong to speak ill of the dead like this, but her death hadn’t really changed how Willow felt about the old woman, despite how much he felt like it should’ve.

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  He still hadn’t wanted her to die. Especially not the way she had.

  “But if I’d tried harder and not played around so much I know I could’ve saved her.”

  Willow felt a gloved hand rest on the top of his head. “That rotten flower was a full blown beast king. Even if you’d found all your little spirits they wouldnae have had the chance to grow strong enough for you to harm it. I was only able to kill it so quickly because Rotter was stronger and shared a concept with the beasty.”

  The boy felt tears begin to sting his eyes, but he held back.

  Mu stared out the window, the reflection of moonlight on the snow outside cast everything in a ghostly hue.

  “Even when you have strength, you can’t save everyone. It’s a fact of life, much as I hate it. You have the potential to be even stronger than me, but even that strength will have limits.”

  The gloved hand began rubbing the top of his head a bit.

  “The best you can do is try and cling to the memories of those you have saved. Like that boy a while back. I couldn’t have saved him without you being there. A few moments more and he would’ve been lost.”

  The image of Old Ping’s dead body staring at him accusingly appeared once more.

  Willow forced himself to think of the boy they saved crying in relief instead.

  It helped a little, but the guilt remained. Though the prickling in his eyes began to subside.

  Willow shook his head to clear his thoughts a little. He’d gotten distracted, he was supposed to be comforting Miss Mu, and had forced her to comfort him instead.

  He shifted closer and hugged his mentor, surprising her. “You’re a real hero, Miss Mu.”

  Mu snorted. “I ain’t a hero from one of your stories, girly.” Willow could sense how much what he’d said boosted her mood though, which he took as a minor victory.

  “Not a girl today.” He corrected, but honestly didn’t mind too much that she’d gotten it wrong right now. There wasn’t an easy way for her to have known after all.

  Mu chuckled nervously and Willow felt her wince. “Sorry ‘bout that. Took a stab at it, but I shouldn’t be gettin’ it wrong.”

  “S’fine. I know how much you try.” Which was true. He appreciated how much his mentor was trying to keep him comfortable despite how weird he was. He couldn’t imagine it was easy.

  Mu gently pried her apprentice off of her, and gave him a small smile.

  “Well I think it’s about time for the both of us to get some sleep, aye? I’ve had a long couple of weeks.”

  “All right.” Willow mumbled, hopping off of Mu’s bed. He was unsure how much he’d be able to sleep, but he did need it for his lessons tomorrow.

  Learning everything he needed to help in the teahouse was more complicated than he expected! There were so many different blends of teas they served and all of them had overly complicated names.

  Most of them were quite tasty though. One of the perks while practicing was being given a taste of the teas to better know what to recommend to the patrons if he was asked. Though the words he was supposed to use to describe them didn’t really make sense.

  He still memorized them, of course, the Madame wouldn’t accept anything less.

  Willow slipped back into his own bed, the blankets were thankfully still warm from before.

  “Good night, Miss Mu!” He called to his mentor as she got ready for bed.

  He saw her tired smile in the reflected moonlight. “Good night, Willow.”

  As he fully laid down and nestled in a cocoon of bedding his mind flitted between the topics they’d just discussed, and the lessons that were to come in the following days.

  Though what he always came back to was the two moments in his past, one of failure and one of triumph.

  The last thing he thought of before drifting off to sleep was a boy crying and panicked, but very much alive due in part to Willow’s actions.