The Savage

Part 1: Chapter Eleven: Sinead

Atop the wood burner sat a small iron cauldron, its contents softly boiling away. The pungent odor of the steaming potion filled the little attic room. Meave hovered over her pot stirring carefully. "...one, two, three," she counted out loud. Changing direction, she stirred counterclockwise, again counting aloud, "One, two, three."

Setting the spoon down, Meave stood back and turned to the ragged leather bound book that lay open on the desk. Its frayed edges and mildew spots testified to its age and previous years of use. The words across the tattered, discolored pages were written in elegant calligraphy. An intricate pattern of entwining knots filled with once vibrant colors bordered the delicate script.

"...mixture must soft boil for a hundred count. Then immediately remove from the heat source and allow to cool undisturbed for thirteen minutes. If done correctly, the potion will take on a floral aroma, indicating its completion." Meave read, running her finger along the page. The door to the little attic room swung open, loudly creaking on its rusty hinges, as Sinead tumbled in. She was bundled in multiple layers, only her eyes were visible, covered in fresh snow fall. Hooked in her right elbow was an old, dirty wicker basket containing just picked wintergreen berries. Sinead handed the basket to her sister and began peeling off her wet layers. Removing the green knit scarf from around her mouth and nose, Sinead was met with the horrid smell of the room.

"Goddess be good, Mae!" she exclaimed, her face contorting in disgust, "Valerian?"

Meave nodded, "Sorry, it's almost done."

"What's it for?" Sinead asked.

"Sigrite. She hasn't been sleeping." Meave replied, popping a few red berries into her mouth.

Sinead frowned, "Should she be trusted with it?"

"I'm only giving her a little."

Sinead pressed her lips together in obvious disapproval but said nothing more about it.

"Was there a bird?" Meave asked, checking her watch.

Sitting on the edge of the narrow bed, Sinead pulled her boots off, slushy snow falling to the wood floor and shook her head solemnly.

Meave sighed heavily in response.

Both girls knew that an unexpected message would carry only bad tidings, but it was still difficult not to crave news.

Meave carefully took the cauldron off the wood burner and set it onto the floor, on top a folded cloth.

"How much longer?" Sinead asked.

"I'm counting." Meave answered, watching her sister draw a spell circle on the floor with white chalk.

"I'm going in today." Sinead said.

Meave's brow furrowed, "for how long?" she asked.

"Fours hours at least." replied Sinead, now setting the candles in place.

"That's way too long!" Meave vehemently objected.

Propping her hands on her hips, Sinead faced her sister, "Look, I've got to do something and we need information."

"You weren't even in there half that long last time and you slept for a full day and night." Meave pointed out.

"So, I'll sleep longer." Sinead shrugged.

"What if you don't wake up?"

"I will."

Meave threw her hands up in frustration.