Chapter Eight

It felt like ice was flooding through my veins. I stared at the small bundle for what felt like an eternity. If I left them, who knew where I would find them next? In my home? The thought was sickening.

With deep apprehension, I picked up the coins and bundle of herbs. Once inside, I made quick work of hiding them away in a drawer of my workbench. As long as whoever left them there thought that I took them, then maybe they would leave me alone. That was all I could hope for. 

I got changed into a simple sleeveless nightgown, distracted myself by pulling the sheets off the hook by the fire and getting to work putting my bed back together. 

I forced myself not to think about that package, those coins, who left them, or the dream that lingered and clung to the edges of my mind. 

Too many things had happened, and my brain was overloading. Why did all of this happen to me? Before I could gain control of my emotions, a tear slipped down my cheek, uninvited. Once I'd made my bed, I grabbed the Passionflower extract and placed a few drops on my tongue. I swallowed the bitter liquid quickly. 

I needed to busy myself with something, anything, while the potion did its work. Sitting on my bed, I grabbed a roll of yarn out of a basket on the floor, along with a hook, and urged my fingers into action, weaving a strip of fabric. By the time it was a few inches long, I could feel the calm of the Passionflower seeping into my muscles. My thoughts started to ease. 

Finally, I sigh to myself. That was all I needed. I look at the bottle of extract still sitting on my worktable. There wasn't much. Maybe enough for two weeks? I thought about the field of flowers deep in the forest. With the way my work is going right now, I didn't know if I'd be able to buy any. That left me with only one option. 

My fingers went still on the hook and yarn. A shiver ran down my spine as I thought about what I saw the night I went there. Those glowing red eyes... I didn't think I could go back to the mouth of that cave. I may actually die. What about the patch on the cliffs, though? I was unsure about that option. A fall from that height would kill me just as quickly as a dragon would. To be fair, a fall from the cliffs would probably be less painful than being eaten alive. 

What did it matter, though? It was early winter, and the meadow was already covered in snow. I wouldn't be able to go back and pick the flowers until spring returns. I guess I'd just have to make do with what I had. Daily life up to this point had already been a struggle, an endless war of sorts. What difference would a bit longer make?

You didn't know this peace before. Now you know what you're missing. 

I shook my head. Now was not the time for intrusive thoughts. My eyelids were growing heavy. If nothing else, the Passionflower is a sure way to get a good night's sleep. I placed the yarn back in its basket and bundled myself up in the quilt. As the warmth enveloped me, I was pulled into the sweet abyss of sleep. 

***

A week had passed since the incident with the coins. Luckily, nothing happened since. The winter was growing harsher with every passing day. It wasn't really a bad thing, though, since the more people who experienced the cold, the more they came to me for warming herbs and spices. Business had been picking up so much that I may be able to buy the Passionflower that I needed. Now, if only I could find it. 

As another customer knocked on my door, I quickly got to work bundling up my generic winter blend to sell them. As I opened the door, package in hand, something unexpected greeted me. 

The father of the boy who was injured last week. His short, stout frame filled the space of my porch. I could tell he hadn't been sleeping well. Dark bags sat under his eyes, and at least several days' worth of scruff hung from what was once a smooth-shaven face. His son's injury must have really been draining him. 

"Good afternoon," I started. "What can I do for you?"

He looked at his feet. I could tell that he wasn't happy to be here again. "My son, John, needs more medicine."

John, huh? It baffled me how I'd lived in the same village my whole life, treated these people's ails, even been tormented by them, and yet I didn't know any of their names. There's no point in lingering on it now, though, I suppose. 

With a sigh, I asked, " How is he doing? Has he woken up yet?"

The man looked taken aback by my question. Did he think I didn't care? "He... He's awake but in pain. Boy's even scared of his own shadow now."

I expected that to be the case with those wounds. "Have they found what attacked the child yet?"

His face scrunched up. Who knew a human could twist their face so tightly? I almost wanted to laugh at how childish he looked. "Ain't none of your business!" He rushed closer and slammed his hand against the door frame. I should have been scared, terrified even, but I must have been too used to this kind of thing. It took everything in me to suppress laughing at his little tantrum. "For all we know, you're the one who lured the beast into our village," He snarled in my face. His breath was pungent with alcohol. I winced at the stench. It was no wonder the parents didn't notice what attacked their child. They were probably drinking or fighting. 

John's father leaned in even closer, mere inches away from my face. "Just give me the medicine before I tell the whole town that you're the reason he was hurt. You think anyone will let you stay anywhere near here if I tell them that?" He let out a dark chuckle. "They'd have you strung up by nightfall." His dull brown eyes shone with a sinister gleam.

This creep would actually do it. I just couldn't catch a break, could I? I rolled my eyes at the man's behavior, his attitude. "I can't give you herbs unless I know his condition. Does he have an infection? A fever? Is he still bleeding? If I give you something without knowing that much, I could do more harm than good. Can you even give me that information, a drunkard like you?" I didn't know what came over me, but I was tired of him trying to trample over me, of all of them. I glared at him with every ounce of frustration and rage I felt toward the circumstances I found myself in. 

He staggered back. I don't think he had expected me to put up much of a fight. Too bad. His face contorted with anger. "You'll be sorry, witch!" He hollered, pointing at me. With that, he ran off toward town, yelling obscenities the whole way. 

I shook my head and walked back inside, firmly shutting the door. It may come back to bite me in the ass, but it was worth it. Who cares if he tells the town? Everyone already thinks I bring misfortune everywhere I go. They haven't done anything yet, and I doubt they will. 

I chuckled. At least now I know where that boy got his foul mouth from.