“The serpent sounds angry,” he muttered. “Hope I at least gave it a good scar, or—”
“Where’s Grayse?” I interrupted. I’d forgotten she was supposed to be with Fynn. The remnants of a card game lay on the floor, but there didn’t appear to be a mischievous blonde head behind any of the furniture.
Fynn nodded toward my bedroom. “She’s taking a nap. Cheating at cards exhausted her.”
I hurried toward the door. “I’m going to wake her. We’ll drop her off at the Stowells’—they weren’t at the meeting, so they must be home—just in case Mam and Da are out discussing the new curfew a while longer.”
“You could tell me where we’re headed, while you’re at it,” Fynn said.
I paused to offer him the ghost of a grin. “We’re collecting herbs for Morag. I’ll explain on the way. If you want to come, that is.” I opened the door, calling over my shoulder, “Whatever you decide, I need to go now….”
Fynn hurriedly pulled on his boots. “Then I’m with you.”
We maintained a brisk pace after dropping Grayse at the Stowells’ cottage, slipping behind a row of tall houses as a shortcut to the overgrown field that bordered the forest. The usual scuffing of feet and shouts of hello! were absent, leaving only the sighing of the wind. Unease clung to me like cobwebs as I explained to Fynn how Morag would make serpent poison with whatever we found today.
“I’m certain I remember seeing a clump of pennyroyal over here,” I muttered, mostly to distract myself.
Fynn shot me a look. “Pennyroyal?”
I pressed my hands to my hair as a gust of wind blew strands into my face. “The flowers are bright purple and puffy like dandelions. You can’t miss them.”
He darted ahead, kicking rotten strawberries from his path. I bounded after him through the waist-high grass, glad to leave the quiet of town.
“Is this it?” He waved a fistful of spiky purple stalks. I nodded and hurried to join him. “You’re sure this is poison? It looks more like one of Mally’s wedding decorations.”
I crammed the flowers into my pocket. Smashed or not, they’d be effective. “I’m sure. Animals die if they eat it. People, too.” I paused to rub a stitch in my side while Fynn prowled the field.
“What else am I looking for?” he asked.
“Caper spurge. If the serpent gets a taste, he won’t be able to stop vomiting. It’s a tall plant with heart-shaped leaves. It should be bearing small green fruit this time of year.”
Fynn parted the grass, pulling up a reddish stalk of rhubarb. The plant’s leaves contained a mild poison that would do little more than give the serpent a stomachache.
“That’s no good. We’re trying to kill the monster, not give him indigestion!”
Breathing easier now, I combed through a part of the field Fynn hadn’t visited yet. Yellow heads of cushag bobbed in the wind, and strands of delicate bluebells brushed my knees, but a rotten odor lingered beneath their fragrance. My gaze fell on a dead mouse baking in the sun, and my throat tightened. I hurried in another direction.
“How about this?” Fynn held up more flowers for my inspection.
Shielding my eyes against the glare of the sun, I studied the blue petals in his hand. “No, no, that’s gentian. It’s used for healing.”
Fynn shrugged, tossing the flowers to the ground. “I thought all the pretty ones were poisonous.” He cut a path toward me, reaching my side in a few long strides.
A smile warmed my voice. “Only some.” I took his hand. “This way. I know another place we can try, but then we’ll have to bring whatever we’ve found to Morag. If Mally and Artur’s boat had any trouble, they could still be at sea right now …”
We exchanged a look, and Fynn nodded gravely. Without another word, I guided him toward the woods at the base of my favorite hill, but instead of beginning the climb, we continued straight through a thicket of young oak trees. “There’s a valley just up here,” I explained, ducking under a branch. “I haven’t been this way in ages, but I think we’ll find more herbs than we need there.”
“Bridey,” Fynn murmured as we picked our way through the tangled branches. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you since last night. You won’t like it, especially not after what the serpent did to those people, but I don’t think I have a choice.” He halted, turning to face me. “Your father asked me to go fishing with him tomorrow morning. An overnight trip.”
“What? When did he ask?” I demanded, taking a step closer. A gnarled root caught my foot and I stumbled, reaching for a branch to steady myself.
“Careful.” Fynn snagged me around the waist. “He asked at the wedding feast.”
I gripped his shoulders. “Well, you can’t go. Not when the serpent is so close. We have to keep Da ashore until Morag makes her poison and we’ve slain the beast.”
Fynn shook his head. “We both know there’s nothing we can say to keep your father on land. Fish are still scarce, and he doesn’t—”