“Ouch,” Bael Flinthammer announced gravely, holding out a finger without any visible injury. “Ouch.”

“Ach, did ye hurt yer finger, ye sweet baby?” his mother, Beli, said, dropping to her knees in the wet earth overlooking the loch. Taking the tiny digit in her hands, she placed a kiss on it, then looked up to see the patient’s reaction.

“Ouch,” Bael repeated.

“Ah reckon that’s a more serious injury, then,” Beli said, reaching back for the bag that all mothers of young children carry with them everywhere, regardless of species. “Ah what’d make ye feel better … a lollipop!”

Bael considered the proffered candy — his favorite — but then thrust his finger out again.

“Ouch.”

“OK,” Beli nodded. “There’s jus’ one thing ta do for ye, then.”

She rose to her feet and put both hands on her son’s, surrounding his tiny hand in hers. Throwing her feet back, she called out to the Titans that created her race and forged order in the world.

“Oh, Eonar! Great Mother! Restore this most fragile young sprout! Fill him with yer love and yer healin’ spirit!”

A green glow, looking for a moment like leaves sprouting in Beli’s grasp, emanated from between her fingers. When she removed her hands, Bael’s finger looked … about the same.

Still, the boy grinned ear to ear and presented his finger once more.

“Fank ‘oo, Mommy.” He hugged her around the waist, and turned to race off beside Lucky, the black lion Ringo had long ago brought home to be the boy’s companion and guardian.

He stopped and turned back, looking curiously at the candy sticking out of Beli’s bag.

“Pop-pop?”

“Aye, take th’ lollipop, too,” she said, handing the candy over, and watched boy and lion race down to the water’s edge, sending ducks flying with their splashing.

“Very nice,” Ringo growled from behind her, waving a bandaged finger. “Ye call upon Eonar herself fer an imaginary injury fer th’ boy, but yer own husband, with an infected finger from cutting hisself trying to get a cooling machine repaired, just has to ‘walk it off?'”

Beli shrugged as she closed up her bag.

“Ah have one rule: Ne’er heal th’ stupid.”

((Inspired by the “When should a healer let somebody die?” shared topic from Blog Azeroth.))