The Stray

2-29: Of Moss and Medics

He rubbed his forehead. "I've such a headache. Alright, I called you here to look into an important ingredient going missing." At his sister's nod, he continued. "Well, it's Bloodfeast Moss. It's—"

"You lost what!?" Timothy blurted out. "How— why would you even have that?"

V flinched at his outburst. "The hell's that?"

The witch turned to her, not able to hide his horror. "It's thorny, parasitic moss. If you let it pierce you, it'll invade your bloodstream. After that..." Timothy shuddered. "It devours the blood from right inside your veins, and spreads from your corpse. It's a terrible way to to go." The dragoness's face contorted in horror.

"Yeah... that's what I'm getting to." Mat smiled weakly. "Bloodfeast Moss is very dangerous—"

"That's an understatement!"

"But it's also a vital reagent for malotherapy." Mat put in firmly. "When carefully prepared by a trained alchemist, and administered at a precise dose and curtailed by a malotherapist's curses, it can be used to purge particularly horrible maladies of the blood and bone.

Timothy gaped. "You're kidding." The healer shook his head.

"Not at all. It requires precautions be taken at every stage to prevent infestation, so it's used as heavy ordinance."

Holy frass. Timothy wasn't sure if he respected the ruthlessness or recoiled at the recklesness! He swallowed around a real dry mouth.

V was more composed than he was. "Malotherapy is cursebreaking, right?" V asked. "What Cajeta does."

"No, that's exorcism, though Cajeta does do both. Malotherapy is using hostile and aggressive magic, especially curses, for medicinal purposes."

That made it all click into place. "Someone must be really sick, then."

"...Well." Mat took a deep breath. "That brings us to Officer Crowe." V unleashed another acid torrent of oaths. Sheesh, Timothy was learning new ones. "Yeah, yeah, I know, you two have friction."

"Friction? Mat, that stuck up cunt's always treating the rest of us like dumbass bumpkins. She can't fuckin' say a single word without it being down her nose. She's insufferable!"

"Be that as it may..." Mat raised his voice, pointedly not commenting on June's character, "Her father is a patient of ours."

That stopped V. "Her dad?"

"Yes. Bramble Crowe. Good man, suffering from long-term Mudmarrow."

"Mudmarrow? Tell me the name ain't literal." V swallowed.

"Oh, it is. It's a wasting curse." Timothy knew this one, too. "It slowly, bit by bit, transmutes your bones into mud from the marrow out. Mud's being generous... it's more of a thick slurry." V's cheeks began to turn a bit green. Even Timothy, who'd survived infected wounds and seen the horrors of the Deepshadow, felt like he had a rock in his throat. "Way I heard it, it's a mutant strain of some vampire bioweapon."

Mat raised an eyebrow. "It's rather rare. You don't tend to see it much outside of unlucky mercs, so... I'm surprised you know the details, Timothy."

"I'm Vol, remember? Anyone living near the Forest of Pain knows." He didn't remember the details, but there was a plant or something...? "It ain't called that for nothin. Take one wrong step in there and you'll die of six curses and diseases within the month."

"...and there's a whole Streneli tribe that lives there. Are they crazy?" V shuddered.

Timothy smiled faintly. "Yer waterin' the ocean on that one, trust me." He grew serious again, though, as he realized something. "But anyway, Mudmarrow ain't really contagious— not 'less you get cursed blood or flesh in you somehow. How the heck did one of you townies get it?"