A cloud of dust rises from the road as the six travelers trudge through the forest. The lush forest on either side of them is the vibrant green of late spring, and fallen pink petals line the edges of the road. Missenda, Caeli Sandra, Lezly, Macky, Dorrian, and Drayton have been waylaid for weeks, camping in the remote mountain town of Heinlinan. As they near the regional market, they are looking forward to renting some rooms in a hotel.

Missenda hikes the strap of her canvas bag higher up her shoulder and straightens her aching back. She really is getting too old for this type of adventure. No weight-distribution spell can mask the strenuous nature of crossing the continent on foot. Dorrian and Drayton are both nearly thirty; they can lead the next trip while she stays home to help tend the Garden Inn that she owns with her wife. The two cousins are accustomed to traveling with their large orcish family and can handle the preparations.

“Can you hurry up?” Macky’s annoyed voice cuts through her thoughts. Missenda sighs, refusing to answer, and slows her gait even further. If the tall young human had his way, they would have already been to the market and back, with stumps on the ends of their legs instead of feet. She can’t keep up that pace any more.

“Not everyone wants to race,” Lezly retorts. “We’ll be there in a day or two and then you can do whatever it is you’ve been itching to do.”

“I don’t want to hear from you.” Macky snorts and flips his hair. “You’re the one that got us lost in the first place. We’re all going to be miserable when it gets hot out and we’re still hiking out here.” He stalks off, the only sound the crashing of chipmunks dashing through the branches above.

A breeze ruffles Missenda’s unruly brown curls, carrying with it the fresh scent of flowers and herbs. The combination is similar to her wife’s garden back home. It would be nice to pass a house out here in the woods. Perhaps they could trade some of their canned and dried foods for ones fresh from the garden.

As the road rounds the corner, bright sunlight forces Missenda to shade her eyes. A large building with white wooden-shingle siding and a dark thatched roof stands in a break in the trees, its wide porch inviting them in. Wind chimes tinkle softly in the yard. Past the gate, a light screen guards the open front door from insects.

A neatly dressed tiefling clears a plate from one of several tables on the porch. He lifts a hand in greeting as they approach.

“Good morning!” He calls.

Missenda waves back and turns to survey the rest of the group. “Shall we stop for some lunch?”

Five heads nod hungrily in response.

Missenda gently pulls the rope rein to ease the llamas to a stop in front of the restaurant, brushing excess dust from her clay-colored skirt. A woman exits the building and invites them to unhitch the llamas from the wagon. Once the llamas are contentedly grazing in a grassy pen, the group files through the screen door into the building’s lobby.

“Welcome! I’m Amber.” She adjusts her powder-blue apron as she steps behind the counter. “I run the Woodland Retreat here with my spouse Mason. Are you dining with us today or looking for spa services? The salon has openings if that’s…”

“Dining,” Drayton gruffly interjects.

The woman starts to round the counter.

“Salon, you said?” Missenda pulls at a lock of her hair, conscious that the wind has brought out both the rosiness of her cheeks and the fluffiness of her hair. “I could use a fresh cut after lunch if you’ve got openings. Or maybe a deep condition.”

Lezly pulls her thick brown braid over one shoulder to examine the ends, split from the wear and tear of travel. “I agree. It’s been too long!” A pang of jealousy hits Missenda at how the girl’s youthful face is undimmed by her disheveled hair and rumpled clothes. Missenda’s own face carries some stubborn lines that a spa treatment won’t be able to remove.

Dorrian brushes her sandy hair back and rubs a large hand across her pale grayish skin, its coarseness prickling her palm. With the other she slaps Drayton on the back. “Looks like we’re taking a rest today. Might as well freshen up!” Her cousin glares at her but doesn’t protest. Their cropped hair has grown past their ears and could use a trim too.

Missenda looks to the last two. Macky stands aside, avoiding eye contact to appear aloof. Caeli Sandra’s expression runs one claw over her dull green cheek. She watches with a melancholy expression as a tiny flake falls to the floor at her touch.

“We also have some great scale treatments,” the owner adds. “Very popular with merchants traveling from Mossvale.”

At the mention of her hometown, Caeli Sandra perks up and turns to Macky for translation.

The woman switches to Mossy, the language spoken by most lizardfolk. “We have a nice scale treatment if you’d like. It’s good for moisturizing and softening up any tough spots.” Caeli Sandra nods vigorously, her tail lifting a few inches from the floor to ruffle the hem of her dress.

Amber switches back to the Common tongue to address the group. “Why don’t we get you seated for lunch and then you can think on the other services?”

She leads them out to the porch to a large table. Mason reappears with two orc-sized chairs for Dorrian and Drayton. They agree to six of the daily specials and settle in.

Missenda sighs as she props her feet on the bar under the table. “If this spa does massages, you might have to drag me out of here.”

Lezly twists, cracking her back in one direction and then the other. “A soaking tub sounds good right about now, too.” She releases the edge of the table and slumps back into the chair, fussing with her shawl. Missenda slips her sketchbook out from a pocket in her skirt, dreamily doodling ideas for a new haircut.

“It sounds like we could all use a spa day.” Dorrian assesses the group. “We can spend the afternoon getting pampered so we’re fresh for the road tomorrow.”

Macky crosses his arms. “This is such a waste. It’s going to be expensive and put us even further behind.” Missenda doesn’t understand his need to rush. They’ll get where they are going, even with a day to rest.

Dorrian shoots Macky a stern look, much like the one Missenda is holding back. “You’re no fun when you’re cranky like this. You need to relax more than any of us. Finding some lost treasure can wait another day.”

Macky rolls his eyes, but Missenda suspects he is actually looking forward to it. He ruffles his hair when he thinks everyone has stopped looking at him, brushing the front off to each side to test out different styles.

The food comes out, mouthwatering aromas rising from each plate. A steaming sweet potato piled high with slaw in a tangy sauce nestles next to a salad sprinkled with fresh nuts and berries and a little dish of vinaigrette. The porch falls silent aside from the gentle sounds of the wind chimes. Missenda marvels at the delicate fresh berries, juicy little treats atop the greens.

When Amber returns to check on them, all six plates are clear, and their water glasses are drained. Dorrian looks up hungrily, thoughts of dessert on her mind.

“Looks like you folks enjoyed it!”

She reaches into her apron pocket and pulls out a handful of wrapped treats. “Some complimentary almond chocolates for you all. What’s the decision on the salon?”

“You can have us all afternoon. We’re taking the day off!” Dorrian announces gleefully. Around her, the group murmurs in agreement as they savor the rich dark chocolates.

“If that’s the case, why don’t I walk you through our services?”

They start off with a soak in warm tubs of herb-infused water. The discreet back patio offers enough privacy to strip into their underthings. Their dusty boots and sandals slouch against the wall. Back here, the sunlight filters gently through the trees, falling in warm patches. Eight wooden tubs are lined up facing into the woods, overlooking the herb garden where the rosemary and lavender for the baths came from.

“We grow nearly everything ourselves,” Mason says as he carries out a tray of cucumber-mint water. “The glasses are enchanted to keep them cool, but feel free to ask for a refill any time.”

Missenda takes a refreshing sip and sinks lower into the tub. To her right, Macky groans as he stretches out his long legs. The bath is loosening up muscles Missenda hadn’t even realized were tight. On the other side, Caeli Sandra’s tiny frame is swallowed up by the enormous tub, only her tiny clawed toes visible on the rim.

Birds flit through the trees beyond the porch, chirping as they dart in and out of sight. After a while, Amber and Mason come to call the first two in for massages. Drayton and Dorrian stand and dry off, donning fluffy yellow robes. Missenda chuckles as they walk off with the same gait in the way only family can do, like two oversized yellow ducklings.

Missenda dunks her face into the warm water, humming to herself as she reaches for a soapy loofah on the edge of the tub. She scrubs the dirt from her limbs, a frothy lather forming from the soap in the loofah. How a place this luxurious came to be in the woods she isn’t sure, but she is glad they found it.

When the hosts return, Missenda stands and beckons Caeli Sandra, who seems reluctant to leave the warm embrace of the tub. When she stands on the smooth wooden deck and picks up the towel, she finds it is pre-warmed for her, and the robe too. Whoever does these enchantments must be talented.

On the other side of the door are two padded tables separated by a light paper privacy screen. The cool tile floor is refreshing on Missenda’s bare feet. Mason wipes the tables efficiently with a lemon-scented cleanser. Missenda follows him to a table and hangs her robe from a hook on the wall. She lies down on the table, ungracefully heaving up her tired legs before flattening out on her stomach.

“You’ve been on the road a while, then?” Mason asks as he pours a dollop of lotion into his hand.

“About a month at this point.” She feels Mason’s hands come down on her shoulder blades, warm and strong. “You can say this is long overdue.” She grimaces at the thought of how far they could have made it in that month if they hadn’t taken that wrong turn.

Missenda’s muscles melt as he works over her back, the tension disappearing with the massage. His hands move down her sore legs, releasing knots and worries as they go. With another dollop of lotion, they massage her tired feet. The warm water has softened her calluses, allowing them to be supple under the deft fingers.

Across the paper divider, Caeli Sandra lets out a soft, blissful hiss.

Missenda’s aching back finally relents under renewed attention and she finds herself drifting off.

She wakes at the end of the massage to Mason gently shaking her shoulder, feeling ten years younger. This spa will be worth every gold piece by the end of the afternoon.

She dons her robe once more and is led to a dim, quiet sauna. Amber places a fresh drink in her hand. This one is a tea containing several healing herbs whose aromas she recognizes. It also has a fruity scent. She takes an exploratory sip: it’s coconut!

Missenda settles on the bench next to Dorrian. Across from them, Drayton sips their drink with an uncharacteristic smile, lost in their own world. Caeli Sandra happily slurps up the drink as she sits down. Amber chuckles and summons a person dressed in a chef’s outfit. They refill her glass from a pitcher and set it down by the door.

Missenda sips her drink slowly before refilling it and topping off Caeli Sandra’s and Drayton’s glasses. It is still cold, as promised, despite the warm steam in the room.

“Very good,” Caeli Sandra murmurs, some of the Common words she has picked up during the trip.

“Good one!” Drayton holds up their giant fist for Caeli Sandra to knock hers against. A rare grin lights up their face. It’s hard to believe they have only known each other for a month.

Missenda leans her head against the warm cedar planks of the wall, listening to the gentle crackle of a fire that never fizzles or flares. Eventually, Macky and Lezly join them in the sauna, looking much more relaxed than earlier.

Mason appears at the door. “Alright, who’s up first? Drayton and Dorrian again?”

Drayton blanches at the summons, stiffening in their seat. “Missenda can go first this time.” If Missenda isn’t mistaken, the big orc is shaking like a leaf.

“Oh, you big baby,” Dorrian teases. “It’s a facial, not a death sentence.” She stands to leave, but Drayton stays put on the bench.

Missenda adjusts the tie on her robe. If they intend to make a scene, she can just go now. She and Dorrian trail Mason to a room down the hall from the massage room. Inside, plush chairs are paired with large mirrors. The little table next to each has a plate of tiny cakes and powder-dusted jelly candies. Missenda takes a bite of a pineapple jelly, a delicious surprise.

To her left, Dorrian grins through a mouthful of cake. “It’s coconut again!” She points at the delicate pink icing excitedly before popping a second cake in her mouth.

Missenda picks up one of her cakes and passes it over, laughing. “We don’t want you to run out!” She takes an exploratory bite of the second cake, savoring the creamy frosting. A berry filling gushes out into her mouth.

Amber sets a washcloth and a bowl on the table beside the snacks. Missenda leans back and closes her eyes to allow the stylist to wash her face and apply the thick clay mask to it. She hasn’t had to make a decision all day since agreeing to make use of the spa services. More days should be like this.

Amber leaves the mask to dry and leaves to retrieve the next two. Mason applies Caeli Sandra’s mask to her face, as well as her shoulders, arms, feet, and tail. The scale treatment is a lot more in-depth than the facials, and the girl seems to be pleased with its effects. Caeli Sandra seems to have convinced Drayton to reluctantly come in with her. Or maybe they realized they would end up paired with Lezly, who is much chattier. Drayton picks at the edges of their mask as they snack on the plate of desserts.

Snippets of chatter float in from down the hall; there must be diners on the porch now. Amber and Mason settle Macky and Lezly in two of the remaining four seats on the opposite wall, visible only in the mirrors. Missenda’s mask cools as she watches their hosts complete their work.

They reverse the process, each getting the mask rinsed off of their face and their hair washed with sweet-smelling shampoo. Amber stands over Missenda’s armchair and combs her wet curls, applying a layer of product to them.

“So, you said you wanted a new style. What were you thinking?” She dries Missenda’s hair with a towel that magically wicks up more water than is typically possible. Missenda tries to explain her vision for keeping most of her long locks, but trimming and shaping the front to stay out of her face on windy days. Amber hums thoughtfully.

“Look in the mirror.” She points over Missenda’s shoulder to the large mirror in front of her. As Missenda watches, she manipulates strands with her hands and they disappear in the reflection. “Like this?”

Missenda stares, mouth agape. What kind of magic is this? She reaches up to touch her hair, feeling strands that aren’t there in the reflection.

“Careful there, you might snap the illusion,” Amber warns. Missenda drops her hand to her lap. Still unsure of what to say, she leans forward to examine the image of herself. The curls move convincingly as she does so. She turns her head to the left, then the right. Small ringlets near her face swish with the movement. It’s a nice style.

“Could the sides be a little more…” Missenda waves her hand to show the shape she envisions. Amber mimics the motion, bending the illusion to that shape.

“Better?”

“Yes!” The new illusion frames her face better, keeping it from looking too round.

Amber gets to work busily shaping the real hair as Missenda watches the illusion in the mirror. As Amber works, she can tell which parts are already done because they lose the shimmery effect in the glass. Finally the hair is done and all that is left is her own shining face. She turns to Amber, beaming.

“It’s beautiful! Thank you!” She could hug this stranger. The haircut is exactly as she had imagined it.

Amber takes a brush and removes a couple of straggling bits of hair from Missenda’s shoulders. The scissors must also be enchanted; there isn’t a single hair left on Missenda’s robe after the cut.

Missenda stands and fluffs her curls, cupping them gently. She turns to see Dorrian examining her fresh cut in the mirror, the sandy blonde bob short and crisp. Mason is already standing over Drayton, asking questions about what they want. Amber checks on Caeli Sandra, who is basking in the sun by the window, and moves to Macky’s chair to begin trying to bring his vision to life.

Soon they are all freshly styled and change out of their robes into clean clothes. Macky’s mop of dark hair is tamed, framing his face nicely again. Caeli Sandra’s scales are shiny and supple. Even Drayton looks pleased with their closely cropped hair as they stand in the lobby and stretch their loose muscles. The new haircut adds to the formidable figure of their carefully tailored clothes fitted to every muscle.

Amber explains the recipe for her curl cream as Missenda counts out a small handful of coins on the counter. Behind her, Dorrian is tucking some more complimentary chocolates into the pockets of her flowy linen trousers.

“Alright, pampering time is over. I guess it’s time to get back on the road.” Missenda looks around the lobby, locking eyes with each of her travel companions one by one. Camping out is going to be tough after a day of relaxation like this. She glances back at Amber, readying herself to say goodbye and step out the door.

 Amber gives a little knowing smile. “You headed to the regional market after this?”

Missenda takes a deep breath. This woman doesn’t need to hear about their plan to chase after a fairytale. “That’s our next stop. Then the real legwork starts.”

“About a quarter mile down the road, there’s a crossroad.” Amber says. “The market is down to the right, just a couple hours’ walk. The left leads to a hotel. If you tell them we sent you, the rooms are half off.” It’s an appealing offer. Missenda hasn’t slept in a real bed in weeks, as her back keeps reminding her. She searches the group’s eyes for signs of agreement or disapproval.

“Well.” Macky runs a hand through his freshly-styled hair. “It would be a shame to waste the day by getting dirtied up again right away.” So, he did like the spa day, after all.

They stand in the yard, readying the llamas. Missenda strokes one’s neck and looks out at the golden afternoon light glowing on the road. Tonight, they will rest up. Then, tomorrow, they will start the next leg of their journey.

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