Page 24 of Maneater

“Caz!” I yelled, rushing to his side where his body lay crumpled on the ground.

When I reached him, he was unconscious, his breathing faint.

One shoulder was twisted at an unnatural angle, and his blue cloak was torn, his tunic in tatters.

My heart plummeted. I scanned the trees for Bellona, but she was nowhere in sight.

Then my eyes fell on the object cradled tightly in his hand, a jar, nestled under his arm.

I leaned closer. Inside the jar was a jagged piece of rotted bark, sickly green and diseased. That’s when I saw his palm, the skin was red and blistered, raw with pain.

Idiot . I told him not to touch the tree.

Caz lay face down, his cheek pressed to the forest floor, bruised and cut.

I moved to his side and carefully began to roll him over, trying to ease him into a better position.

As I shifted his weight, he gasped sharply, his eyes flew open, wild and disoriented.

He jerked to the side, only to cry out, clutching his injured shoulder in agony.

“Caz!” I called out. “Caz, calm down, it’s me. What happened?”

His eyes were still wide with shock as he managed to gasp, “ Thieves.” He grimaced, breathing hard, clutching his injured shoulder again. “They’ve got Bell. Took most of my things, my tools, my books.”

“Who?” I questioned. “What did they look like?”

“Two men,” he said. “They came up behind me while I… I wasn’t paying attention. I was just taking a sample from the tree.” He swayed forward, wincing, and I reached out to steady him with both hands.

“I’m sorry, Caz.” I glanced again at his twisted shoulder. “I shouldn’t have wandered off.”

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice full of concern. “When they attacked, I didn’t see you. You walked off right before, I figured you just needed some space. I thought maybe they’d gotten to you.”

“No, I’m alright.” The image of the gnarled tree flashed through my mind, but I pushed it away.

“But you’re not. We need to get you help.

” I glanced around. He hadn’t wandered far, maybe fifty paces from where we’d started.

“There’s a cottage not far from here. An older woman lives there.

Can you walk? It’s about half a chime away. ”

“I can manage,” Caz grunted as I helped him to his feet, still cradling his shoulder. I offered my body for support, and he leaned into it with a quiet nod. His steps were uneven, his limp noticeable.

“It’s just this way,” I said, guiding us toward the cottage. “Tell me if you need to stop or rest.”

“We won’t make it back to town in time for your shift,” he muttered. “Not without Bell. I’m sorry. It was a stupid mistake. I should’ve been more careful. But… I’m glad you weren’t here when it happened. Who knows what they might’ve done to you.”

I didn’t want to think about that. “You said there were two men? Do you remember what they looked like?”

“Not clearly,” he said. “They came up behind me. I think one of them meant to hit my head, but I turned at the last second, and they caught my shoulder instead. One tackled me, and the other took Bell.” His voice faltered at her name. “Do you think she’s alright?”

“I… I don’t know,” I said. “We’ll try to find her. There aren’t many ho rses around here, if someone’s seen her, we’ll hear of it. What about your things? Your tools? Can they be replaced?”

“They can, but the Academy won’t be quick about it. They were all brand new, I just got them.” His expression grew more pained. “But my books aren’t.”

“It’ll be alright, Caz. They couldn’t have gone far. And if they’re planning to peddle your things, I know folk who keep an eye on that sort of trade.” I shifted his weight slightly as we walked. “Let’s get your shoulder looked at first. We’ll figure out the rest after.”

Caz nodded solemnly. “Where exactly are we headed?”

“To see a woman I knew growing up. She runs an apothecary out of her cottage. Herbal remedies, tinctures, that sort of thing. She should be able to help with your shoulder.” I tried not to sound too disapproving as I added, “And maybe she can take a look at that rash on your palm while we’re there. ”

Caz flushed, embarrassed. “If she can, I’d be grateful.

I know you told me not to touch the tree, but I needed that sample.

If what you said is true, maybe the Academy could petition the Crown.

One of the Masters might bring it forward, to explain the disease, find out why it’s spreading.

Maybe it could stop it before it gets worse.

” He sighed. “I was just trying to help.”

“I know,” I murmured. “It’s alright.”

“Mag!” I called, my voice echoing past the empty stand at the front of the shop. When no answer came, I tried again. “Mag, it’s me, Odessa! I need your help!”

My eyes flicked to the hearth. The fire was burning strong, well-tended.

“What is this place?” Caz asked, his gaze fixed on the walls, lined with shelves overflowing with mismatched bottles and jars of every shape and size.

The air was thick with the scent of sage and something sweeter.

Wisteria, maybe. A light haze of smoke drifted through the room.

The apothecary looked just as it had six years ago.

The only difference now was how packed it had become.

The shelves had multiplied, the items had grown, and there was barely room to stand, let alone sit.

“This is Mag’s apothecary,” I said. “She’ll be out in a minute.” I glanced around, unsure if she was actually here at all.

I hadn’t stepped foot in Mag’s shop since that day six years ago. We waited in silence for what felt like ages, and I reassured Caz again that she would appear.

Mag was... strange. It always felt like she wasn’t entirely part of this world. Most folk in Brier Len would agree. She was as much an outsider as she was a fixture. Over time, she’d come to be known as “Mad Mag.”

It wasn’t that Mag was truly mad, just that her way with skirtsfolk gave that impression.

Her face was usually drawn into a severe scowl, and her words struck like a whip, with little patience for weakness.

Still, her apothecary was the closest thing to a healer’s sanctuary that Brier Len had.

Most folk only came to her when they were desperate, when waiting any longer no longer seemed like an option, and the alternative was just as grim.

A sudden, loud thud echoed through the room, and both Caz and I jumped. I took a cautious step toward the noise and called out, “Mag? Is that you?”

Another rattling sound followed, and something clattered to the floor.

“Mag! Are you alright?” I rushed toward the commotion behind the stand, expecting to find Mag sprawled out or throwing things around like a wild woman.

Instead, I was met with a sharp yowl and an ear-splitting screech.

I yelped and stumbled back.

A mass of black fur and wild yellow eyes slinked toward me.

With a grimace, I took in the full sight of the creature.

It had crooked fangs and a scruffy, matted coat.

Easily the ugliest cat I’d ever seen, and also as large as they come.

It hissed, low and mean, and I lifted my hands in surrender, slowly backing away until it seemed satisfied with the space between us.

“Wild thing,” I muttered. “Can you at least tell Mag we’re here? We’ve been waiting forever.”

I retreated to Caz’s side, but the cat showed no intention of fetching anyone. It yowled again, loudly, then simply sat and stared at us.

Another moment passed. Then came another clatter from the back, and I silently prayed to the gods it wasn’t another cat. Thankfully, my prayer was answered.

Heavy footsteps pounded toward the front, followed by a muttered chant. “A petal of echinacea, dried, not freshly plucked. The stem of valerian, harvested at high noon. The blade of lemon balm, sharp apex, rounded base, highly veined. Yarrow bulb…”

“Serph!” Mag’s voice cracked like a whip. “What havoc have you unleashed now?”

From behind a flutter of mismatched curtains, Mag appeared, scowl carved deep, eyes sharp as ever.

But the moment her gaze landed on me, she froze. Still as stone. Her head tilted slightly, gaze narrowing with eerie focus.

She looked exactly as I remembered. An old crone, wrinkled and hunched, her presence as strange and commanding as ever. Slowly, she stepped forward, eyes locked on mine. And with every step, the weight of her stare pressed down harder, thick as storm air.

“You,” she murmured, pointing at me, her voice low. “The stars foretold your return to me. Our fates are tied. Once before, twice now, and soon again, for a third time.”

I ignored the remark. “Mag, we need your help. This is Caz, my friend. He’s badly hurt in his shoulder and hand, maybe more.”

I turned to Caz and gave him a small nod toward her, a quiet prompt to speak. He hesitated, then cleared his throat. “Uh, hello. I’m Cazimir. I think my shoulder’s dislocated, and there’s a sharp pain in my hip too.”

Mag tilted her head and began to circle him, eyes narrowed. Her worn fingers brushed over the torn fabric of his scholar’s cloak, gliding down his back before pinching the material between her fingers.

“A scholar’s pride, draped in blue,” she muttered, eyes tracing the embroidery on his hood. “A mind worthy of the Crown’s coin, is it? Tell me, scholar, what do you truly know? I, for one, question the worth of knowledge when the answers given are never the ones sought.”

Caz glanced at me, unsure. I shrugged, giving him a look that said ‘just go with it’.

Mag circled him, her eyes narrowed in scrutiny until she stopped in front of him again. She sniffed the air, her wrinkled nose twitching as she drew in a deep breath. In a flash, she grabbed Caz’s wrist, yanked back his cloak, and exposed the raw, blistered skin of his palm.

“A curious hand takes what it should not,” she said, twisting his wrist toward the light. She studied it, then bared her yellowed, crooked teeth in a grin. “You, scholar, are a man who strays from what he’s told.”

Caz tensed, as if ready to pull his hand away, but then his shoulders dropped. “You’re right,” he admitted. “Odessa told me not to touch the trees. She said the skirtsfolk leave them alone.” He met Mag’s eyes. “I only did it to try and help.”

Mag paused, weighing his words, then released his hand. She tapped his injured shoulder, the one untouched by the rot. “A price has been paid nonetheless.” Her gaze flicked between the two of us before she turned and headed deeper into the shop. “Come.”