Howl

Chapter Thirty One

Artemis's POV

    "Why won't you let me help you?" Howl asks. He looks like he is about to part. His once dark hair is getting lighter and lighter. But it is leaning towards an odd grey now, rather than blonde.

    "Hush for a minute!"

    "But-"

    "Howl, shut up!" I trace my finger under the sentance one more time. I can't beleive it!  "Holw, please don't leave."

    He turns away from the door, and his light eyes find mine across the room. He looks so pitiful- Then he comes back over to me, staring at the stacks of books surrounding me, some even toppling off of Mellach's desk in the library.

    "I found it out. I found the way! I found out how we-" I begin to speak, madly and ferociously.

    "Take a breath," Howl tells me. He traces my lips with his finger tips. He leans in, and before I know it, he has both kissed me, and put me asleep, with his blasted sleeping potions. When I send him away from the library, while I scour for the right bit for Markl's spell, Howl creates more potions.

    Now I know what type he was busy brewing.

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Howl's POV

    "She is going to kill you when she wakes up," Solomon giggles and nods at Artemis's sleeping figure. She and Mellach snort, as if sharing a secret only they would ever know. Oh how much they have both changed!

    "Probably, but she was acting delirious again. She was talking too quickly and-"

    "Doesn't mean you drug her," Mellach rolls his eyes at me. He makes things sound so harsh.

   Suddenly, the pace that Artemis's chest rises and falls changes, and she stirs.

    "What the he-"

    "Sorry, Artemis!" I put in desperately, before she can finish cursing. "It was supposed to calm you down!"

    "Enough nonsense, Howl, I know how we save Markl." She begins to grin.

   "So are you going to tell us, or is Solomon going to be done with today's visit before you are done sitting there looking like a madwoman?" Mellach says, stumbling over Solomon's name, nervously.

    "It's going to be some trick, but we need the essance and scales of The Ferocity."

    "What is the essence supposed to be?" I can't help but fail to understand. Scales, fine, if we are making a potion. But essence?

    Mellach and Solomon say in unison, "It's heart."

    "How old was that book?"

    "Hundreds of years," Artemis answers me. "Ah."

    "And how exatcly are we going to get those?" Solomon asks, and Mellach and I nod, agreeing with her queery.

   And even more worrying than the task at hand is Artemis's answer: "A whole lot of sleeping potions!"