Grasp Heart

Chapter 6: One's Gotta Try to Kill the Other

A low, oppressive layer of cloud cover hung thick above me as my Jeep's tires crackled on the road. Mountains loomed overhead and nostalgia choked me, brimming my eyes with tears I sniffed back. These mountains were greener than I was used to, less of their purples and browns showed. If they were snow-capped, I couldn't tell; a low, cottony cloud layer wreathed some of the peaks like a scarf. Just going North for a few hours on the peninsula from Homer was like stepping into an entirely new biome.

I wound further in, windows rolled down, allowing the thick, chill wind to plump and wave my long hair. When I breathed, my lungs were relieved, giddy. I felt almost dizzy from the clear, fresh air.

Now, to avoid all the little unsuspecting humans that may be out camping this time of year, I'd have to scale the mountain range to the Northeast of the valley. In fact, many of the mountains were uncharted territory - it had been difficult to pick a spot for today's hunt. My fingers tapped on the wheel impatiently. I'd chosen a spot nearly two hours from town... but it would be worth it. And so, I was reaching the end of my drive, deep into the National Forest.

The nature center there was a squat, comfortable-looking building with a well-worn exterior. I parked, gathered my things, and poked about for a bit. There were a handful of people perusing the displays, some intent, standing in place as they read and others skimming as they sauntered. I read each plaque in depth, memorizing the species of notable plants and recognizing Lamilis among them.

"It's native to this region?" I wondered softly, cocking my head.

That would explain this safehouse's location.

"Really pretty flower, eh?" An older gentleman noted, nodding his head, "It may still just be in season, but we're nearing the end of blooming. The flowers are unique, little clusters that bloom off of a thistle-like, almost pinecone-like bud."

He pointed as he spoke, formally tracing the teardrop-shape in the image with a finger like he'd given this explanation before. His shirt was a deep forest green with official embroidered lettering on the breast; the nameplate there read 'John'.

"I'm actually pretty fond of Lamalis tea."

"Oh!" he exclaimed, gesticulating excitedly with weathered hands, "The local Alaska Native tribe, the Lawatscoh, spike their water supply with Lamalis extract. It's a tradition based on old legends; you can taste it if you have tap water from any of their diners, restaurants, or water fountains. There's also a newly opened apothecary-type shop in Soldotna to the South that has partnered with native creators to sell locally sourced lamalis teas."

"Really?"

My eyebrows disappeared into my hairline.

Old legends involving a vampire-repellent herb? I wondered.

"Oh, yes," John nodded, "Their tourist season comes to a close in November, so you've got plenty of time if you want to check it out."

"I'm actually local," I rubbed the back of my head self-consciously, "Er, well to Homer. As of two weeks ago, that is."

"Oh! Welcome - as it so happens, I'm from Homer as well! I come up here to volunteer during tourist season but I think I may have heard about you at church when I'm home for the weekends; are you Sara Luzio?"

"That's me. Hopefully you heard all good things?"

"Of course, hun, of course," he waved a careless hand, "I'm old-friends with Mrs. Hardy."

"Tell her I'm reading Pride and Prejudice diligently."

"It's best not to remind her of her schoolwork while she's not at school," he amended, his turn to awkwardly laugh, "She loves to gossip, however...."