COVENS

Chapter Four

The gardens are large. We traipse along behind Nettles as she points things out to us. Different plants. Poisonous ones. Edible ones. Which ones can be used in healing potions, and so on. The gardens are surprisingly expansive, spreading out over the sloping land beyond the main house. Clara is having the time of her life, prancing through the winding hedges and flowerbeds, sending her bird to collect ingredients for her potion to cheat death.

I didn't tell her last night about wanting to leave. She was so excited to make a potion of her own, I couldn't take that from her. And I can't just leave her here, either.

Nettles doesn't talk to me much, but when she does it's a biting remark or a scold. I'm falling too far behind or I picked the wrong plant or so on. I can barely hold my temper. I mean, okay, maybe she just lost her own temper yesterday. It's understandable. I might have too if someone was tampering with the grave of my loved one. But she has to know it wasn't on purpose. And it seems deeper than that. It's as if, after that one instant, she's developed a deep, deep hatred for me. All I see in her old eyes is contempt.

I choose to make a potion called Pepper's Sight. It will supposedly give me the ability to see in the dark for up to a day after drinking it. I squint at the scrawling recipe I copied out from the book. I've already got hog's hair and rose thorns and lilac leaves... Now I need three carrots and a head of lettuce. What is this, a potion or a salad? Well, besides the hog's hair.

Mugs hops along ahead of me, sneaking bites of plants when no one else is looking. "I remember this place," she remarks. "My mage went here for school I think. But then, yeah..." she sighs.

"What happened to her?" I ask. My curiosity gets the better of me.

The rabbit stops and looks at me. "To my mage? She broke the bond with me. Some spell. I don't know why." Her voice is melancholy. "I've been living out in these woods ever since. Familiars live longer, you know. About the same as their human, usually."

"Huh," I nod. "Sorry," I add awkwardly.

Mugs ignores me, instead darting around the corner with a funny "yip!" as she finds something interesting and likely tasty to snack.

I sigh.

Later that evening, Dafydd talks about transfiguration. By the end of the night most of us can change a mouse into a daisy and the other way around. I know the chant to turn dust into clean drinking water, flowers into little cakes, and socks into knives. It fascinates my mind, distracting me from the drama of yesterday. I practice in our cabin, accidentally making water rain down the walls.

"Sorry! The ceiling must be dusty!" I cry, quickly trying to turn it back as water drips on Clara and Ellis' heads. We cough out dust.

Clara is working nonstop on her potion. She's commandeered multiple vials and bottles, and is steadily collecting her ingredients in them, lining them up under her bed. She's also made a little cloth nest for her bird on the mantel, and the little sparrow is practically hidden under straw and string.

"I should be able to brew it up tomorrow," she tells me cheerily.

The room is lit with the now familiar green. Mugs is sleeping burrowed under my blanket at the foot of my bed. I sit on the ground, turning flower petals into biscuits at my feet. They taste delicious. Now I can survive in the wild for as long as I can find a good flower.

Ellis is outside somewhere with his bird. Trying to track down some ingredient for his brew, I think. He's going to make "Breathe Water," which, obviously, lets you breathe underwater.

"Can I use the cauldron tomorrow?" Clara asks, putting a finger to her mouth and frowning at the iron pot tucked by the hearth.

I bob my head, but she just keeps talking.