It was a cold autumn night, and Florence, the little hedgehog, felt terribly sick. She had been feeling ill for days now, and she could not shake off her feverish state, despite everything her parents had tried. In fact, she felt more miserable than ever that night, even though she was tightly wrapped in a warm blanket and had all the hot herbal tea and soup she desired. Her quills felt dry and brittle, her eyes were red, her nose was running constantly... her parents had begun to suspect that it was more than a mere cold, and something much more serious.
They called in the local doctor, Dr. Gornlerf. He examined her thoroughly, making sure that he did not miss anything, but he was just as perplexed as they were.
"Her symptoms resemble the flu," he said, his brow furrowed, "But what you've been doing for her should be helping at least a little bit."
He gave her some more herbs to drink, and told her parents to make sure she got plenty of rest. Then he left, leaving them with nothing more to do except wait and worry about their daughter's condition.
This bug had been going around for weeks, and many people had been put out of commission, unable to work or go to school. It was a shame, because otherwise it was a beautiful time of year, with golden and red leaves on the trees, and fun activities like pressing cider and corn mazes, but lots of people were stuck at home. Some were beginning to worry that it would turn out to be deadly- one of Mr. Grubb's cousins had died while they were ill, but it wasn't certain that the disease was the cause, or just a weak constitution. Every day brought new reports of bed-ridden sickness, and soon everyone knew someone who had fallen victim to the mysterious virus. All over town, people prayed for an end to it all.
Poor Florence seemed to get the brunt of it. At first, she'd gotten better after taking the herbs, but then she started getting worse again. Her mother was afraid that she was too weak to fight it anymore, and that it might kill her. It didn't help that their village was very poor and miles away from any city with more advanced medical facilities. Dr. Gornlerf was the only doctor who lived nearby, and his resources were limited.
So all they could do was sit in their living room in front of the fireplace and hope things would turn out all right. Mrs. Grubb tried to knit a new scarf, and Mr. Grubb attempted to read a book, but they were both distracted by Florence's coughing emanating from her bedroom- she barely got any sleep because of her condition, and neither did her distressed mother and father.
Suddenly, a strange light came into the darkened room, and Mrs. Grubb heard a knocking from outside the front door. The light was coming in through the front door window, an odd flickering sort of glow, like a flame dancing somewhere outside.
She stood up and went over to the door but didn't open it just yet, feeling puzzled and apprehensive by someone knocking on their door this time of night.
"...Hello? Who's there?" she called out.
"May I come in?" said a gravelly, muffled voice in a strange accent. "I am here to help your daughter."
"Who are you?"
"I am a doctor."
There was no further explanation. She waited a moment longer, trying to make heads or tails of these words, and gather more clues from the eerie glow that still hovered outside the window, but couldn't detect anything unusual.
"Alright," she finally said, opening the door slowly.
She found herself looking up at a dark, shadowy figure standing on the front porch. It was tall and gaunt, wearing a black robe, and its face was hidden behind a large, leather mask shaped like a pointed beak. Its hands were held up in front of itself, as if in prayer, except its hands sported long sharp claws. The light came from a lantern that levitated next to the creature's shoulder.
Mrs. Grubb gasped, terrified by the sight, convinced in an instant that the Grim Reaper himself had come to their door to take away their sweet, helpless Florence. Her quills rose up, and she nearly curled into a ball.
"What are you doing here?!" she cried out. "What are you??"
"I am here to cure your daughter," replied the Doctor.
"Cure our daughter?! How can you possibly think-"
"Please don't yell!" pleaded the Doctor. "I do not wish to awaken your child, nor draw attention to myself."
Mr. Grubb appeared behind his wife, and immediately gave the stranger a scowl, his quills also rising.
"And what kind of doctor are you?" he demanded. "You don't look like any doctor I've ever seen! And I certainly have never seen YOU before!"
"No need to shout sir," said the Doctor. "My name is Dr. Pestle, and I'm sorry to disturb you so late at night, but I need to examine your young daughter."
"Pestle..." Mrs. Grubb said in a low voice, "What kind of name is that?"
"A doctor's name," the figure said simply. "Do not be afraid. I mean you no harm. Now please, stand aside and let me pass. It is an emergency."
Mr. Grubb stood firm and stalwart, not moving. Behind the glass lenses of its mask, he could see nothing but an icy glow surrounded by blackness.
"You won't hurt us?" asked Mrs. Grubb dubiously, still fully aware of how frightening the thing looked.
The Doctor nodded solemnly.
"Of course not," it said. "I promise. Your daughter shall not suffer by my hand."
"How can we believe you?" Mr. Grubb insisted. "We've already lost one family member to this illness, and now you want us to believe that you're the only one who can help, and allow you to enter our house? Why should we believe you know any better than the doctor we already know and trust?"
Dr. Pestle sighed impatiently.
"You must trust me," it said. "If you refuse, I cannot save your daughter. I do not believe you have much choice- nothing has worked thus far, correct?"
"No," Mrs. Grubb admitted. "Nobody seems to know the cure."
"Then I doubt I could do much worse," the Doctor said. "But I do believe I have the solution."
The couple stood there, still hesitating. Then Mrs. Grubb spoke.
"I'm willing to try anything," she said. "We're all desperate. Please help our daughter."
Mr. Grubb grumbled under his breath.
"Fine," he said with a sneer, "But I'm keeping my eye on you."
The couple moved away from the door, and let the Doctor inside. He billowed past them, his black cape flowing like smoke behind him. The lantern followed him, still floating in the air, and the creature took out a leather bag from somewhere inside his robe. Long, intimidating talons poked out from under his robe as he walked through the living room and into the main hallway, clicking against the floorboards. Mr. and Mrs. Grubb looked at each other uncertainly, but followed him anyway.
The Doctor entered the tiny bedroom where little Florence lay sleeping restlessly, wrapped in blankets and pillows to keep her warm. He approached cautiously, knowing full well what horrors awaited him inside the room. There was no need for him to knock; the girl was fast asleep, and he would rather not awaken her anyway. As he approached, the lantern settled itself on the table next to her bed.
Mr. and Mrs. Grubb stared up at the strange beast, which towered over their tiny daughter. They weren't unfamiliar with magic, or creatures of the night. But they'd only heard the vaguest of mumblings about these ambiguously bird-like beings that said they were doctors. What would happen if the Doctor turned out to be a monster, pretending to be a healer? Would he really heal their sick daughter, or just kill her instead? Still, Mrs. Grubb sensed a gentle, caring nature in the stranger, despite its frightening appearance and mysterious, foreboding aura, and wondered if she had misjudged him somehow.
Dr. Pestle knelt down beside the bed, nearly halving his height and becoming less looming, holding the leather bag close to his chest. He pulled out a pair of rubber gloves, and pulled them on tightly with a snap, his claws nearly poking through.
"What're those for?" Mr. Grubb asked suspiciously.
"If I am to prevent this disease from spreading further, I cannot let the virus touch me," he explained. "It might infect me too, after all. That is the purpose of my mask as well."
With his hands properly protected, he gently touched the little girl's forehead. Just then a chill ran through her body, causing her to squirm, and she opened her eyes.
"Florence!" called Mrs. Grubb, afraid she might see their haunting visitor. She rushed forward to help Florence, but the Doctor held up a hand to stop her.
"Please stay back," he commanded. "You may catch it as well. In fact, you may be at risk merely remaining in this room."
"But you'll scare her!" Mrs. Grubb protested.
Florence eyelids opened blearily, her vision unfocused. Her parents watched helplessly as she struggled to sit up, trying to focus her blurry vision. A few moments later, however, she suddenly stiffened, and started coughing violently.
"Oh dear," cried Mrs. Grubb, almost in tears. "She should've stayed asleep!"
"Do not worry," the Doctor reassured her soothingly. "This is purely temporary. All will soon be well."
He looked at Florence again, looking into her feverish face. For a moment they made eye contact, and the little girl stopped coughing, seeming almost mesmerized. His dark gaze seemed to calm her, surprisingly, and she relaxed, closing her eyes once more.
Dr. Pestle reached out and stroked her forepaw to comfort her.
"Do not be afraid," he reassured her. "You're safe now. You'll feel better soon enough."
Mrs. Grubb glanced nervously at her husband, wondering whether or not they agreed with the words coming from behind that mask. But their daughter seemed to trust him instinctively, so they tried to push away their fears.
The Doctor then felt her hot forehead, and checked her all over to determine the symptoms, asking several questions about how she had been feeling, what they had done so far, and what the other doctors had said. After listening intently to everything they told him, Dr. Pestle nodded sagely, and a glimmer of grim understanding seemed to enter his eyes. He turned to his bag again, and pulled out a necklace with the iron outline of a triangle attached.
"What's that for?" asked Mr. Grubb, raising an eyebrow.
"You shall see," he said.
The Doctor held the necklace over the child's forehead, and her parents were amazed and alarmed to see the iron triangle repelled away from her, never once touching her skin, as if they were opposite magnetic forces.
"What on earth!?" cried Mrs. Grubb.
"It is as I expected," he said solemnly. "It is more than a mere virus. The virus' power has been augmented by that of a demon of pestilence. That is why normal methods haven't worked. I do, however, have something that does."
"Dear God! A demon did this to her??" Mrs. Grubb said with a choke.
"Yes, yes," replied the Doctor. "And one who is very powerful indeed. It must be exorcized immediately, before it spreads any further. This is an emergency situation. We shall use every means necessary to destroy it."
"How can we fight a demon?!" demanded Mr. Grubb. "No matter how strong we are, it could easily overpower us both!"
"I believe I have what we need."
Dr. Pestle returned to his bag. After rummaging around for several moments, he pulled something out of the bag and placed it on the table. They watched silently as he unwrapped the object, which turned out to be a stone mortar and pestle. The next object was a tea kettle and a portable burner that, when the crystal talisman on the side was tapped by the tip of his claw, lit up in an instant.
He finished by taking out an assortment of herbs and powders in small glass jars from the leather bag, some of which they didn't recognize, and pouring them into the mortar. Then he began crushing the various herbs into a fine powder, pulverizing them with the pestle vigorously until they were completely homogenous.
He started boiling some water that suddenly appeared inside the kettle, and stirred the powder into it. Soon, the water changed color, turning from clear to a deep red.
Once it was ready, he picked out a cup from the bag, and filled it with the brew. He handed the cup to Mrs. Grubb, who gingerly accepted it.
"Give this to her. It will ease her suffering greatly."
"Oh, th-thank you..." she stammered, "I don't know what we would've done without you."
"Be prepared, however. The demon will fight against the potion. Your little girl will experience convulsions, but they will pass quickly, and she will be fine. Do not be alarmed."
"Oh my! What do we do then?!" gasped Mrs. Grubb.
"Wait," replied the Doctor calmly. "You needn't fear. Give it time. With your faith in me and our combined strength, I believe we shall prevail."
Mr. Grubb glared at the Doctor, obviously still unhappy with his presence.
"How do we know this isn't a trick?!" he demanded.
"Your daughter needs my help," said the Doctor coldly. "You accuse me of taking advantage of a helpless, sweet little girl, and intending to hurt her? I take offense, sir."
"Well... maybe just a bit," admitted Mr. Grubb reluctantly. "We want nothing more than to save our child, but-"
"Enough! If you wish to question or doubt anything else I say, go ahead," snapped the Doctor. "If you fail to act swiftly, though, there will be consequences."
Mr. Grubb was struck silent by his indignation, and his furrowed brow faded into an expression of sadness and resignation.
"You make a convincing argument, I suppose," Mr. Grubb said with a sigh, looking down. "But please understand that the only reason I'm fighting with you is because I love my daughter, and I want to protect her. I can't let her suffer anymore."
"I understand- you love her, and it shows," the Doctor said with a nod. "Do I have your full permission to do all I can?"
"Yes."
"Then I shall proceed," said the Doctor.
With that, Dr. Pestle took Florence's hand gently, and she opened her eyes again.
"My child," he said, "I need you to drink this. It will help you. Be forewarned, however, that an evil presence is within you. It may fight you, but you must fight back. It may show you nightmares and terrifying visions, but you must be strong."
Florence looked up at him uncertainly, her face creased with worry. She wasn't sure if she entirely understood, especially since her mind was so hazy. Still, she at least knew, somehow, that whatever he asked her to do, she needed to do it. So she nodded slowly.
From behind his mask, Dr. Pestle smiled, unseen by all.
"You may approach," he said to Mrs. Grubb, "She will drink it more willingly if it is you who gives it to her."
"But... what if I catch the virus?"
"I believe in this instance, encouraging her to be brave outweighs the risks," he said assuredly, "And if this works, the virus will be significantly weakened."
Mrs. Grubb went to Florence's side, and gently placed a finger on her lips, silently instructing her to open them. She obeyed, and her mother, hesitating no longer, carefully poured the medicine into her mouth.
She swallowed it like a good girl, and the others waited patiently while Florence drank another mouthful. Once it had gone down, they sat quietly, watching intently.
Finally, after nearly five minutes of uncertain stillness passed, Florence's eyes snapped open, looked frightened.
"It begins," Dr. Pestle said, "Keep calm, Florence! The thing inside you is trying to resist us! If you let it, it will weaken you!"
The Demon attacked an instant later, causing Florence to thrash about violently, screaming and crying. Her parents, tears streaming down their faces, tried desperately to keep her still, but couldn't prevent her from struggling.
"Hold her down!" ordered Dr. Pestle urgently. "Don't let her hurt herself!"
"I'm scared!" Florence cried.
Her father gripped her tightly around the waist, pushing her down on the bed as best he could. Together, they held her down as the Demon fought back furiously, its hideous voice howling wildly, trying to remain inside.
"I'm seeing things!" Florence choked, her whole body trembling. "Is this a bad dream? I can't wake up!"
"Hush now, child...!" said Mrs. Grubb as soothingly as she could manage. "You'll be safe soon! We'll get through this together!"
They saw a strange swirl of colors in Florence's eyes as she stared into nothingness, unblinking. They could hardly imagine what horrors she was witnessing, as the Demon attempted to terrify her into submission. They heard a horrible scream, echoing through the room as if it were coming from a deep cave, followed by several shrieks of pain- not from Florence, but from whatever was tormenting her. A moment later, the screams abruptly stopped, and everything went quiet.
For several seconds, Florence seemed frozen, her eyes still wide open. Suddenly, a gust of wind came from nowhere, whistling loudly, accompanied by what seemed like an explosion of darkness bursting in front of Florence's face, but seemingly with no more substance than a hard, cold breeze. Her parents squinted as the murky zephyr blew in their faces, icy and relentless.
They reopened their eyes an instant later to see a black smear, like a streak of dark paint, rushing out of the room and through the open door. As it slithered into the cracks in the walls to places unknown, rattling the knickknacks on the shelves, its screeching faded into the distance, leaving behind only a lingering sense of dread, which also soon faded.
For a moment, none of them spoke as they stared at where the Demon had been.
"...What happened?" gasped Mrs. Grubb. "What was that?"
"That was the demon," replied Dr. Pestle calmly. "It has been exorcized, and cannot return unless someone summons it. Although I'm not sure who would."
Finally, as the others turned to check on her, Florence's body unclenched. She closed her eyes once more, and seemed to sink into herself. Her breathing became slower, and deeper, and after a few minutes, she began settling into a peaceful sleep.
"It worked!" exclaimed Mrs. Grubb, wiping away her tears. "Thank God!"
The Doctor nodded approvingly. "Excellent work, Mr. and Mrs. Grubb. You did very well indeed."
Mrs. Grubb held her daughter close, and whispered words of encouragement into her ear. Soon Florence drifted off into a deep slumber, and Mrs. Grubb breathed a long sigh of relief.
"You actually did it," said Mr. Grubb as he also rubbed his eyes, almost not believing what just occurred.
"It was my duty," said Dr. Pestle humbly.
Mrs. Grubb stood up, crying tears of joy, and tried to embrace him. The Doctor held up a paw to stop her.
"Careful," he said, "We shouldn't touch one another anymore now."
Mrs. Grubb smiled with understanding. Dr. Pestle stood up as well and began gathering his herbs and tools, seeming satisfied.
"Oh, thank you, thank you, kind sir!" Mrs. Grubb said breathlessly. "But do tell us... why do you wear that mask still? May we not see your face?"
"I wish that I could show you," he explained with a sigh, turning to look at her. "But the demon may still be about. And demons always enter the body through the mouth. And it is sure to be in a vengeful mood. You may want to keep from talking or yawning as much as you can until dawn."
The couple looked a little frightened by this revelation, but the Doctor's now calm demeanor put them at ease again.
"Of course..." she agreed.
Dr. Pestle finished putting the items he'd gathered back into his bag, then turned to leave, apologizing for having to go so soon. The lantern followed him, and he stopped to speak once more, his strange voice no longer seeming sinister. Even the cool glow of his eyes seemed comforting.
"...I also recommend remaining in quarantine for a few days, until Florence is fully recovered. She is still tired, but she will feel much better now. However, the virus may still linger in your home, albeit in a weakened state. Stay indoors unless it's an emergency."
"Yes, yes, of course," Mrs. Grubb assured him, "We don't want anyone else getting sick, do we?"
"You may catch sight of me again in the coming days. I must help the others in your village," he said. "This plague shall come to an end, if I have anything to do with it."
He paused, looking back over his shoulder before continuing.
"Goodbye, good people."
With that, the being vanished, along with the strange glowing lantern. A moment later, however, it reappeared again, hovering outside the front door.
"Thank you for listening," said the Doctor.
Mr. Grubb sadly watched him vanish again, wishing that he could've thanked him properly.
"How are we going to explain all this to our neighbors?!" asked Mr. Grubb once he was gone.
"I don't think it matters," said Mrs. Grubb thoughtfully. "Not when we've saved Florence's life."
Mrs. Grubb embraced her husband even tighter, sobbing happily.
"He really was wonderful!" she exclaimed. "If only there were more doctors like him around!"
They then heard some soft squeaks, their daughter's voice. They entered her room again as Florence woke up groggily, her eyes still heavy from sleep, and looked around.
"Daddy?" she asked, confused. "...Who was that kind man?"
"His name was Dr. Pestle," her mother told her. "That's most of what we know."
"Where did he come from?"
"We're not sure," she said truthfully. "From somewhere outside the village, probably. Hopefully not far."
Florence sat up eagerly.
"Can I talk to him again sometime?" she asked hopefully.
"Perhaps," replied Mrs. Grubb, smiling. "Now go back to sleep. You need your rest."
"Okay," Florence said, lying down again and quickly falling asleep once more.
The remaining hours of the night passed without incident, as Florence slept peacefully. In the morning they heard their neighbors talking outside, leaning over fences to chatter about the strange noises and sightings they witnessed during the night or heard tell of after getting out of bed.
"Didn't know those so-called 'doctors' actually existed," remarked a neighbor named William, whose wife had apparently seen something shuffling across the top of their barn. "Don't suppose anybody was able to get any pictures?"
"Probably not," admitted his wife. "It was moving too fast."
When one of their neighbors knocked on their door to ask them questions, they had to peek through the window to explain why they couldn't come out.
"You actually MET that doctor fellow?" asked the neighbor incredulously. "My wife saw something move across our roof, but bless my soul, you actually talked to the thing?"
"He wasn't just a thing," Mrs. Grubb said indignantly, "He was a kind soul. He saved our daughter's life!"
Their neighbor shook his head. "Did he truly? What an odd place this world has become these days. But hey, whatever works, right?"
As the sun rose higher in the sky, the two parents found themselves wondering who exactly Dr. Pestle was and where he came from. How did he know such things about disease and demons? How many others like him were there? Were there other villages affected by the same Plague Demon?
They decided it didn't really matter how it was done, and simply breathed easier knowing that Florence was safe. Still, though, they felt a little uneasy about the whole thing, becoming concerned and empathic for the rest of their sick neighbors. They couldn't help but wonder what they would have to go through, what terrors they might experience, and what lay next for their tiny village. Would they suffer a worse fate? Would they resist the Doctor more than they did, or even chase him away? Or would the demon do more harm than it did to Florence?
Although they knew nothing was certain, they still had hope for the future.