I rubbed an itchy nose, scenting the Moonfire Lily again. My fingers smelled a little too much like it, actually, like pollen when all the flowers were in bloom.
My sneeze quieted Raz for some reason. Small miracles.
As I finished my tea and set my cup down, I hauled myself up. Raz was in charge of taking the nightly satchel to Granny when she was in town, a trip she made every few months or so. Given he was not fit to exist outside of that closet, let alone interact with his boss and benefactor, that left me. If it didn’t mean I’d get to see and chat with Granny, I’d have been severely annoyed.
I tidied everything up before stopping by the unused front workstation. It would’ve been nice if we could’ve found someone to occupy this space and help me with the creations, but sadly no one else showed an affinity for the technical aspect of the job. Not even Raz. He was primarily the plant guy. He had a few helpers in the garden and we both had a few runners forsupplies, but otherwise the duty to make the product mostly fell to me.
So far, that was fine. I was keeping up, albeit barely. Hopefully orders didn’t continue to increase. I was already working every day, often sun up to sundown. Given I didn’t have family and no one would suffer my friendship, I didn’t mind. It gave me something to do. Besides, I owed Granny everything. I’d reach for the moon if she needed me to. But if orders continued to increase, I knew eventually there just wouldn’t be enough time in the day. At that point, I’d need to bring in some help. I’d have no choice.
A fern-green, velvet sack waited on top of the workstation, tied with a pull-string at the top. I pulled it open and filled it with four new products, two of which I’d adjusted from the original version for a better experience. That brought our total to twenty products, including everything from a sleep aid to a relaxant to the fun-time hallucination creation.
Not all of these were explicitly against the laws of the land. The sleep aid, for example, rivaled something the dragon kingdom sold. Mine worked better. The relaxant? The faerie product couldn’t hold a candle to it, try as they might. Those really could’ve sold in the more medicinal markets. The other stuff? Well, those were the reason Granny sold everything through the shadow markets. Guilt by association, I guess.
It was fine. Even the unlawful stuff wasn’t expressly dangerous or life-threatening. Not like some of the other items in the shadow markets. None of my product’s effects would linger after the drug had worn off... except for maybe a questionable life change like Herold becoming “Razorfang.” For the nightmare journeys there was the “way out” I’d devised. I’d told Granny to pass that on to everyone who sold the product, and for them to pass it on to anyone who bought it. Myconscience was clear. I didn’t lose any sleep at night over being a criminal. And if I did? Sleep-aid!
“My life is definitely not a fairy tale,” I murmured, picking up the velvet pack.
Under it, a scrap of paper held Raz’s handwritten scrawl: “Don’t veer off the path.”
My brow lowered as I read it again.
My eye started to twitch.
“Very funny, Raz,” I said, not caring if I excited the little beasties in his brain again. “Very fucking funny. It was only the one time, by the way.” A thud sounded against the wall in the closet. “Just the one time and everyone is a funny guy, huh? No one is going to let me forget it. You get stuffed in a closet, for fuck’s sake, and this is the thing everyone remembers?”
“Don’t veer off the path!” he shouted, clearly knowing what I was talking about. Manic laughter followed me toward the door.
One time. Seriously, I’d veered off the trailone timeout of the thousand I’d walked it and it was all anyone talked about. There had been a good reason, too! I’d seen the glow of the Moonfire Lily from the path. They were incredibly hard to spot, often hiding between and under other flora, its glow usually contained unless you were right on top of it. If I hadn’t grabbed it then, I might’ve lost it.
Sure, I accidentally fell over a log, doused my lantern, left it, and made a mad dash for the flower. I admit I might’ve lost my head a little. It happens.
And okay, yes, after picking the flower and then standing in pitch black as its throb ebbed, I had gotten a little turned around and then couldn’t find where I’d left the fallen lantern. I shouldn’t have left it behind. That was stupid, I could admit.
But what was I supposed to have done at that point, just stand there all night and hope someone would have come to find me? No. I’d done what any rational person with a terrible senseof direction would do—I’d decided to walk until I found either the village or the perimeter line and our sentries. I had known I’d stumble into one or the other eventually.
It was not my fault that the perimeter patrol thought I was trying to sneak out without an escort. They hadn’t given me a chance to explain what had happened; they’d just tossed me over their shoulder and marched me back to Granny.
It had all worked out in the end, though. Even though leaving without permission hadn’t been my intention, I’d gracefully accepted the punishment: a hardcore beating by Granny’s watchdog, Alexander.
Crisis averted.
Did everyone really need to keep bringing it up? Literally every time I had to take the path to see her in town—everysingletime—it was mentioned. It had been two months! It was past getting old.
Besides, I’d gotten the flower. Given the enhancements I was already making with it and my ideas for new product, it had been a stroke of genius leaving that path, questionable decision-making along the way not-withstanding.
On a little table by the door stood my faerie-made lantern. I grabbed the handle as I exited. Outside, I tapped the top three times quickly, then two slow, followed by rubbing the base. Lights flickered a metallic blue within the shiny metal before burning brighter and brighter until the whole thing glowed indigo with swirling patches of lighter and darker blues. The effect was as beautiful as it was useful, the lantern a prized gift from Granny.
Despite the situation that led me to traipsing this path so late at night, I felt lighter, content, my heart swelling at the thought of seeing Granny. She wasn’t just my benefactor and savior; she looked out for me, provided protection from the outside world, and ensured I had all I needed. She wasn’t blood,but I thought of her as family—the only family I had left. I took every opportunity available to meet with her when she visited, chatting and soaking in her proximity.
Her cottage was a fifteen minute walk from the work shed. The indigo glow illuminated the wide tree trunks on either side of the path. The trees now crowded me closely and a hush permeated the area as crickets, night birds, and other creatures stilled or quieted within my vicinity. Ancient trees leaned far over me and strangled what little light the moon shed. Branches entwined along the sides as though in an intricate dance. With each step, the forest floor surrendered below my feet, cushioning my passage as though the path itself remembered me. Not surprising given the number of times I’d walked this route.
With the lantern held aloft, I reached the fork. To go left would take me back to the village, on the outskirts of which was my modest home. I veered right toward Granny’s cottage, a solitary dwelling that never got many visitors, as was her choice. I was one of the few. If she had business with someone—a rare occurrence—she went into the village to speak with them directly. Otherwise, she kept the village fed and clothed, ensured their houses were in repair, and saw to everyone’s needs. We wanted for nothing. All we had to do was make certain the product was quality and consistently ready for pick-up.
The path narrowed until it was hardly more than the width of a person. The glow of my lantern struggled within the oppressive darkness, the night pushing back at the light.
I trekked on as the emberflies gradually dwindled, slipping between the trunks and then behind without daring to peek back out at me. Their numbers would dwindle even further the closer I got to Granny’s. They didn’t continue their drifting too far away from the village, it seemed. No one had any idea why.
My soft footfall invaded the pervasive hush as my gaze wandered to the left. It was at about this spot that I’d spied theMoonfire Lily’s glow in the trees. Surprising, given how choked with vegetation and foliage the land was. It had somehow been able to glimmer through the reaching ferns and tangled vines and moss. The books said that for every flower you were able to find, there were five nestled close by, waiting for discovery.
