The stream curved between moss-covered stones, disappearing beneath tangled roots before emerging farther into the forest. Kai followed its eastern bank with the merchant's map in one hand and his basket in the other.
The first bundle he'd gathered sat neatly wrapped inside. It wasn't much, but it was proof he could do this.
At least, he hoped it was.
A patch of broad leaves caught his eye. Kai crouched beside them, turning one gently with a gloved finger. Pale underneath. Rounded edges. He'd seen something like this on Mirael's worktable.
Wasn't this the herb she'd asked him to separate from the drying stems last spring?
No. That one had a sharper tip. Or had it been the other way around?
He studied the leaves until they began to look less familiar, not more.
"That's helpful," he muttered.
He left them alone. Bringing home a basket full of guesses wouldn't impress his mother, and the merchant had made it clear he wasn't buying weeds out of kindness.
Farther upstream, Kai found narrow leaves streaked with red. He recognized the shape immediately, then hesitated when he saw the stems. The ones Mirael kept in jars were smooth. These had tiny bumps along their length.
"They look similar enough, but those stems aren't right. Could they be from the same family?"
He pictured his mother sorting herbs at the kitchen table, setting similar-looking bundles apart with practiced ease. He'd helped her often enough. Apparently he'd spent more time carrying baskets than paying attention to what went into them.
Kai left the unfamiliar stems where they grew and continued upstream.
At home, Mirael worked with herbs already cleaned, sorted, and tied into neat bundles.
Out here, every plant had neighbors, damaged leaves, and mud hiding half its shape. A name that seemed obvious on a label was much harder to trust when there was no label at all.
He glanced at the first parcel in his basket. He'd trusted that one because its leaves, purple-tipped stems, and growing place had all matched what he remembered.
He would need that same certainty before gathering anything else.
"Mother could've mentioned that part," he said, then reconsidered. "She probably did."
The stream widened into a shallow pool. A fallen log lay beside it, half swallowed by ferns, and a cluster of yellow flowers grew in the patch of sunlight beyond.
Those he knew.
Mirael dried the petals for a warming mixture during cold weather. She'd once shown him how to pinch each flower free without tearing the stem, then made him practice on a handful she'd already gathered.
"Finally. Something I can actually name."
He set down his basket and knelt. The first flower came away cleanly. So did the second. The third slipped from his fingers and landed in the dirt.
Kai looked at it. "You could've cooperated."
He set the bruised flower aside and reached farther beneath the log for another. His sleeve caught on a twig and slid up his forearm. As he leaned in, the bare skin above his glove brushed a fringe of thin, pale-green stems growing among the flowers.
Something prickled against his wrist.
Kai drew back and glanced at the plants. The pale stems were covered in fine hairs, almost invisible until the light struck them. He hadn't noticed them before.
"Well, I certainly didn't see you hiding among those flowers."
He tugged his sleeve down and finished gathering the yellow flowers, careful to keep their petals loose in a cloth pouch. By the time he tied it shut, the prickling had become an itch.
Without thinking, he rubbed his wrist against his sleeve.
The itch sharpened at once.
Kai pulled the fabric back. Several angry red lines crossed the skin just above his glove, and tiny raised bumps had begun to appear between them.
"Oh, that's just lovely. Mother is going to have a wonderful time hearing about this."
He looked toward the pale stems again. A memory surfaced: Yuna reaching for a plant on Mirael's table, and their mother catching her hand before she touched it.
*Those hairs irritate the skin. Don't handle it bare-handed.*
He could remember the warning perfectly now. Remembering it five minutes earlier would have been considerably more useful.
"First trip, and I've already lost a fight with a flower."
The irritation had turned hot and sharp. He resisted the urge to scratch, crouched at the stream, and rinsed the exposed skin with cool running water. It soothed the heat for a moment, though the red bumps remained.
Mirael would know what to put on it. Until then, he could keep his sleeve clear of the rash and stop making it worse.
Through the branches, he could see how far the sun had moved. He still had time to search, but not enough to wander without a plan.
Kai unfolded the map. Three faded marks sat along the stream ahead. One resembled a crooked star. Another might have been a fallen tree. The last looked like an ink stain.
"Your chicken hill was easier to understand," he told the absent merchant.
He followed the bank toward the nearest mark, watching his footing as roots crossed the ground in thick ridges. Once, his boot caught beneath one and he lurched forward, grabbing a trunk before he could fall into the mud.
A squirrel darted along a branch above him.
Kai glanced up. "Not a word out of you."
The squirrel scampered farther along the branch before disappearing into the leaves.
He continued beneath a canopy of overlapping leaves. The water grew quieter here, spreading over dark, damp soil. Reeds clustered around a bend, and among them lay a patch of low, dull-green leaves surrounding a thick central stem.
Kai stopped.
He knew those leaves—or was almost certain he did.
He crouched and carefully shifted one aside. A dark, ridged root showed through the soil, with thin pale fibers along its exposed edge.
He pictured the dried sample Mirael had shown him. The ridges were right, and so were the pale fibers. The living root was firmer and lighter in color, just as she'd warned him it would be.
"Rotbell Root."
The damp ground matched her directions, too. Kai let himself smile.
"About time I found something worth bringing home."
Kai laid the map on a dry stone and took out the curved knife. His mother had told him to loosen the earth around the root before lifting it. The merchant had warned him not to rush. Two people who knew more than he did had offered the same advice in different words.
He would listen.
The knife felt different in his hand than the wooden practice swords Taren used during training. A sword demanded a firm grip and a deliberate strike. Here, too much force could ruin the very thing he wanted. Kai loosened his fingers and tried to work with the soil rather than against it.
It seemed simple enough when he thought of it that way.
At first, the damp soil gave way easily. He worked around the plant, keeping the blade away from the exposed root. A stone blocked one side. Kai shifted his grip and tried to ease it free.
The knife slipped.
A faint tearing sound came from beneath the soil.
Kai went still, the knife hovering above the soil.
A narrow split had opened along the root's dark skin.
For one heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then the smell reached him.
Kai jerked backward, clapping a hand over his nose.
"Oh, gods!"
Rotten eggs would have been bad enough. This was rotten eggs left beside spoiled meat in the summer heat, with something sour underneath that made his eyes water.
He scrambled up the bank, gagging.
"That's not a root. That's a punishment!"
The breeze changed direction. The smell followed.
Kai stared at the plant from several steps away. The merchant's expression suddenly made perfect sense. So did his mother's insistence on separate wrapping.
Could he simply leave it?
He looked at the basket. One small bundle of herbs, a pouch of flowers, and a rash that was beginning to itch again. He'd come all this way because he'd promised to try. Returning with nothing his mother actually needed would be difficult to explain.
Besides, he'd damaged the root. Leaving it in the ground wouldn't undo that.
Kai took a strip of spare cloth from his basket and tied it over his nose and mouth. It helped just enough for him to approach without gagging again.
"Fine," he told the root. "You win the first round."
This time he dug a wider circle, loosened the soil beneath the plant, and lifted it carefully. The split widened a little, releasing another foul wave.
He held the root at arm's length while wrapping it twice, then tucked the bundle into its own pouch and pulled the drawstring tight.
The smell still escaped.
"Of course it does."
He tied the pouch to the outside of his basket, as far from the other herbs as he could manage. Mirael might still be able to use the damaged root, but he wasn't going to let it spoil everything else he'd collected.
Kai looked once more toward the stream and the stretch of bank ahead. There might be another root farther on, but the first had taught him what a careless movement could cost. Next time, he would take his time.
He adjusted the basket on his shoulder and continued along the water, the stubborn smell trailing after him.