She pulled gloves on and poured acorn water into the vials of bark and leaves. The infected grass from the vial of ooze shemoved into a fresh vial and watered that, too. It might’ve been worth testing the water directly on the ooze, but she’d leave that for later. First she wanted to see whether it did anything for her patients, such as they were.
Nothing happened, but that didn’t dishearten her. Most medications needed some time before they took effect; cures often took longer. She’d check on the vials throughout the day, the next several days if necessary. If they showed no improvement in that time, she’d have to reevaluate. With Elspeth’s symptoms developing so much more slowly than usual, Charlotte hoped several days wouldn’t see her bedbound like Gracie Buchanan.
Elspeth came in and slumped in her armchair. Charlotte joined her, resisting the urge to grab something to occupy her hands. The plant creature shrank back down and curled in her lap, winding tendrils through her fingers.
“It work?” Elspeth asked.
“I don’t know. Medicine doesn’t usually work that fast. It might take effect in fifteen minutes, or three hours, or it might take a course of several days.”
“If it works.”
Charlotte reached for Elspeth’s hand. “If. But I’m hopeful.”
Elspeth’s fingers were cold and stiff. Scooting closer, Charlotte rubbed her hands to warm them.
“Thanks.” Elspeth’s hair lay in limp strands across her forehead. “What’s got you so cheery today?”
“It’s a good day. I’m less tired and hardly in pain.”
“I’d’ve thought a good day meant no pain.”
“I don’t remember what it feels like not to be in pain. Anyway, the acorns—I don’t know if they’ll work, but I’ve spent years lamenting that nothing I had access to could even alleviate the sickness’s symptoms, let alone cure it. Now I’ve got something new to try.” Charlotte smoothed Elspeth’s hair fromher forehead, then sat back pretending she hadn’t done it. “I don’t know. Today I feel... hopeful.”
She built up the fire, tucked Elspeth into a fur, and experimented with the ovular whistle they’d found in the bedside table. Positioning her fingers on this whistle was different than on her whistles at home, which were thin and cylindrical. A pleasant note in a lower tone came out, then a higher one. Her fingers fumbled at the unfamiliar placement of the holes, but she blew a few more notes. One screeched like a dying cat. The plant creature slung itself out of her lap and disappeared into the ceiling.
“Sorry,” Charlotte called up to it.
Cautiously, the plant creature curled back down over her chair. It examined the whistle, which she held up for it before putting the whistle away.
Elspeth had been listening with her eyes closed, but she cracked a tired eye when Charlotte returned to her chair. “Took to that like a duck to water.”
“I have a couple of whistles at home.” Charlotte stroked the plant creature. “I used to play. Not all the time, of course, I had far too much to do, but I played when I could. John whittled my favorite one.”
“You don’t play anymore?”
Charlotte shook her head. “I get breathless so easily. And my fingers are stiff so often, or sore, or both... It’s harder than it used to be. Most things are.”
“Must be frustrating.” Elspeth drummed her fingers on her knees. “That sounded pretty good, anyway. Mostly.”
Charlotte’s mouth twitched.
An hour had elapsed when she finally checked her vials. She’d found herself thinking periodically,A watched pot never boils, though taking such things literally was silly. The acorn water would work, or it wouldn’t, and it would do so in its own time whether she watched or not.
“So?” Elspeth asked.
Charlotte’s hands shook. She laid them flat on the counter and went through a few cycles of breathing. The plant creature swayed at her side, waist-high.
She reached for the vial of bark.
Hard to draw any conclusions. The bark was softened by having been left in water for an hour. It looked brown rather than gray or black, but she couldn’t be sure that wasn’t the lighting. The infected leaves were similar.
Charlotte shook her head. She should’ve realized; of course half-decayed bark and leaves would crumble in water.
She reached for the clean vial into which she’d put the blade of grass.
The grass was green.
Charlotte’s heart skipped a beat. She held the vial to the window. The water no longer shimmered with gold specks, but no question: The grass was free of ooze and black veins. No dark tendrils unfurled in the water.
