Page 28 of Maneater
The slop in front of me was a poor excuse for porridge.
I stirred it halfheartedly, chin propped on my fist, elbow resting on the table.
There wasn’t much else in the apothecary’s kitchen that looked any better.
And I wasn’t about to gamble with Mag’s shelves.
If I grabbed the wrong jar or bag, and who knows what kind of trouble Caz and I would end up in.
The wrong bite could land us both back in that infirmary.
My spoon hadn’t moved since the first taste, but Caz ate steadily, down to the last lumpy drop.
“You didn’t have to eat that, you know,” I said, my voice filled with guilt.
“Like you said, I’m on the mend,” he replied with a bright grin. “I need my strength back. And my appetite’s returned, especially after barely eating yesterday.”
We sat in silence for a while, neither of us bringing up the night before. Still, I noticed the change in him, how his gaze would drift to me when he thought I wasn’t looking. He was quieter than usual. Watching .
“I hope Griffin’s alright,” I said at last, frowning. “I haven’t left him alone at the inn this long before. If I had to guess, the place has probably gone up in flames.”
Now it was Caz who looked sheepish. “I’m sure the inn’s fine. It stood long before you came along, didn’t it? It probably has its own way of running.”
“I suppose that’s true,” I admitted.
Suddenly, the door to the half-kitchen, half-workspace flew open.
“Here, boy,” Mag barked, appearing as if she’d stepped out of thin air. The old crone thrust a metal tin at Caz, who caught it square against his chest.
“Treat that palm twice a day, twelve chimes apart,” she instructed. “Miss a dose, and you’ll have more than just a rash to worry about.”
“Thank you, Mag,” Caz said sincerely, cradling the tin in his hands. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
“Enough.” Mag waved him off, brushing aside his gratitude. “The salve is done. A fresh batch of syrup of poppy’s ready as well. My generosity is sapped.” She shooed us out with a flick of her hands, making it clear the conversation was over.
Caz scrambled to his feet, quick to obey, falling into the familiar pattern of fear that Mag always seemed to provoke. I rose as well, gathering the breakfast bowls and tidying the space. He was already several steps ahead when Mag’s voice stopped me cold.
“Whispers have reached my ears, little raven,” she murmured. “Be wary. Time is slipping, and it won’t be long now.”
I froze, a twitch tightening my jaw.
Meeting her eyes, I asked, “Are you going to explain what that means, or am I expected to solve this riddle too?”
“Hush now. Nothing more can be done. Run or rise, little raven.”
Mag cast me one last look, then turned to follow after Caz. I lingered a moment longer, letting her words settle. The familiar darkness stirred at the edge of my thoughts, but only as a flicker. I let it pass.
By the time I caught up with them, Caz was already at the side of the shop, talking animatedly with Mag, his face lit with excitement. The moment he saw me turn the corner, he practically shouted, “Odessa! You’re not going to believe this!”
Bellona was the first thing I saw, strong, healthy, and beautiful.
Caz stood beside her, stroking her face gently from browband to muzzle.
The moment she spotted me, she let out a joyful whinny and trotted over, eager and bright.
I smiled, reaching to pat her, and she nuzzled into my shoulder with a soft, contented huff.
“Hi there, sweet,” I murmured.
Caz stepped closer, his grin just a little too wide, like he couldn’t help it, even if it hurt to smile that much.
“I stepped outside and noticed something big moving through the trees over there,” he said, nodding toward a cluster at the edge of the woods.
“At first, I thought it might be some kind of beast. But it was Bell! She’s unharmed, thank the gods.
” He gestured to a rucksack lying in the grass.
“And if that wasn’t enough luck, I found my pack still strapped to her.
I checked inside, and my tools and equipment are all intact.
But my books and journals… well, they’ve taken a bit of a beating. ”
“I’m so relieved,” I said, though something inside me twisted, uncertain. “This is great news, Caz. Truly.”
“An unexpected stroke of luck,” Mag interrupted with her dry tone, head tilting.
“The gods are rarely so generous, scholar. One moment, they allow calamity to strike. The next, they give back what was lost.” Mag glanced at me, her tone shifting, “It’s a strange game they play. Wouldn’t you agree, little one?”
“I know better than to speak on the gods’ whims,” I said, lips tight.
“Ah, but the gods are always watching,” Mag replied, her eyes darkening. “Whether we understand them or not. They have a way of making their judgment known, sooner or later.”
“I can only be grateful,” Caz said, missing the edge in her voice. He walked over and wrapped her in a hug. “Thank you, Mag. I won’t forget your kindness.”
“Let go of me, boy!” she snapped, shoving him back with surprising strength. “Both of you! Gone, before the sun crests the trees.”
“We should get back to the inn,” Caz said, unbothered by her coldness. He glanced at the horizon. “Griffin’s probably worried sick.”
“I doubt it,” I muttered. “He’s more likely fuming. Let’s go, Caz.”
I shot Mag a cold look, my irritation rising. She never spoke plainly. It was always riddles, never answers.
“The gods move as they will, whether you see the pattern or not,” she rasped, words clearly meant for me. “We’ll cross paths only once more, little one.”
With that, she turned and vanished into her shop as the door clicked shut, locking behind her. The sound of it was final.
“I’ll miss that grumpy old thing,” Caz said, a surprising fondness in his voice. “All sharp edges, but there’s warmth under there.”
“Only you could find the good in Mag,” I muttered with a sigh. “Come on, Caz. We’ve got a long road ahead.”
“Where in the gods’ name were you, Odessa?” Griffin huffed, his round face blotchy with red. “Gone nearly two full days, and not a whisper of warning!”
“I’m sorry, Griff,” I replied, guilt pressing down on me. “We ran into trouble in the woods.”
“Trouble or not, that’s two whole shifts!” he barked, not caring that half the patrons at the bar could hear him from the kitchen. “Imagine if I hadn’t stayed late a day ago. The inn would be left to run by its lonesome!”
“I know,” I said quietly. “I’m really sorry, Griff. I would’ve come back sooner, but the trouble was... bad.”
“When isn’t there trouble in those damned woods?” he muttered, but his eyes were gentler than they had been. “Be here by midday tomorrow. I don’t hand out free coin, and I don’t take kindly to those who shirk their word.”
I nearly bit back a remark about how, before I arrived, he spent most days drunk at the gambling tables, and how the inn only turned around after I started working. But Griffin was who he was. Beneath the gruff, there was a quiet compassion that most never saw.
“I’ll be here tomorrow. I swear.”
Griffin let out a disapproving grunt, shooting me a frown as he grabbed an amber bottle from the nearby shelf.
Still, as he passed, his hand rested briefly on my head as he headed toward his room.
At the stairs, he paused and said over his shoulder, “Skirtsfolk are saying my cooking doesn’t measure up to yours.
If you don’t start taking over soon, I might lose my business altogether. ”
“Understood, Griff.” I knew that was his way of giving a compliment.
“And Dess?” he called back.
“Yes?”
“This trouble… does it have anything to do with what happened at the Rustwood? Folk’ve been talking about an attack. Some say it was a wild beast. Others whisper a devil brought death to those eight men.”
A crease formed between my brows. “Is that the old milling farm?”
“Aye,” he confirmed.
Earlier, when Caz and I returned to the bar, the inn had been buzzing with rumors of an attack in Brier Len. Now, hearing this from Griffin, I realized they must’ve meant the Rustwood Mill. The only thing I knew for certain was that Caz and I had been at Mag’s when it happened.
“No,” I said truthfully. “I don’t know anything about it.”
“Alright,” Griffin replied. “Just be careful in those woods. If you get in trouble too deep, you know where to find me.”