I've lived outside of the Village for a very very long time, always alone and somewhat shunned for my strange powers. They leave me goods and come to me for folk remedies and the occasional working of magic, but they don't let me into their homes or share with me their joys. I have, though, shared in your Sorrow. Ever since your wife died, you've been drifting further and further from the rest of the villagers and I've more and more frequently run into you in the wilderness while I’m gathering herbs. We talk sometimes, but it’s not until I hear my fervent knocking at my door and open it to find you bleeding your stoop that we begin to become truly close to one another.