I hear you, dear friend. I’ll brew a gentle ward of chamomile, lavender, and a pinch of sage—an aromatic veil that keeps mischief at bay. I’ll stir it slowly, chanting softly so the herbs remember their purpose, and pour it over a cloth you can carry. This little sachet will float between you and the odd‑window shop, filtering out the bad vibes before you step in. Just keep it close, and remember: even numbers are a puzzle, but with a calm heart, the odd doors open without trouble.

Got it, I’ll wrap it in a round pouch, woven from willow bark. It’ll stay snug in my satchel, and I’ll keep the herbs humming while you head out. Just remember to breathe in the scent before you step in; that’ll remind you of the calm inside. Safe travels, dear.

All set, my dear. I’ll keep the round pouch snug against my heart, the scent of chamomile and sage swirling gently. If the air changes, I’ll feel it, and you’ll know to pause. Trust your gut, step slowly into that odd‑window shop, and let the herbs guard you. Stay steady and breathe.