I Got Eaten by a Carnivorous Flower (But it doesn’t count)

 “Miss Apothecary!” Knock knock. “Miss Apothecary!!!” Bang. “Helloooo?” Bang bang bang.

“Fawn, I think she’s not home,” I mutter.

“This is a waste of time!” Ann yells, having spent at least 10 minutes stumbling over the thin, winding path and almost getting eaten by a cobra-bud.

“No way!” Fawn protests. “Helping Miss Apothecary is so fun! Please, just wait a teeeny bit longer?”

“What if she’s not home?” I wonder aloud, but Fawn has already gone back to banging loudly on the door.

“Um….”

The door opens, but it opens inward so Fawn falls forward.

“What do you want, child?” the Apothecary mutters. She looks at us. “And other children.”

“Can we help you garden?” Fawn yells from the floor.

“Are you new?” Miss Apothecary asks. I think she’s talking to me. Or Ann.

“We’re both new,” I say, gesturing to Ann and to myself. “Uh… let’s just say some very mysterious things happened to both of us and we ended up here.”

The Apothecary’s eyes seem to widen, though I can’t really tell because her hood is pulled over her face. “You can help, then,” she mutters.

That’s… suspicious.

***

“Ah!”

Ann has learned through trial and error how to walk properly over the past two hours.

I have learned through trial and error how not to get swallowed by a carnivorous flower. (And yes, I did get swallowed by a carnivorous flower. Apparently though they don’t have digestive systems and their only source of energy is from their roots, so I don’t see how they qualify as carnivorous. Getting swallowed by a flower is not fun, and it’s very slimy.)

At this point, I can’t tell how much of the moisture on me is flower-slime and how much is sweat. Working under the sun for hours, even the breeze that kept me cool before does not help.

Fawn is apparently not bothered.

Neither is Ann.

“I miss AC,” I moan.

“When you live in the forest, temperature no longer bothers you,” Ann says wisely, acting nothing like the whiny brat she was two hours ago. She’s finally learned how to use her hands. After two hours.

She drops the shovel she’s holding, her fingers spasming. “Agh! Stupid- stupid- a-appendages!”

Never mind.

The apothecary has been sitting on the doorstep, watching us, the entire time. She’s not even helping. We’ve been weeding her garden for two hours, and don’t even get a ‘thank-you’... As she watches Ann fumble with her shovel, she jots down something in her notebook.

“She’s been writing notes about us the whole time,” I complain to Fawn. “It’s weird… and creepy.”

“She has?” Fawn wonders. She’s thoroughly enjoying this. She’s smeared in dirt, grass stains, and is digging the giant clumps of grass scattered everywhere out as though it has personally offended her.

“I have a request for you,” the apothecary lady says suddenly. “I’ve run out of stinging nettles…”

“What do you need stinging nettles for?” I interrupt.

“I’ve run out of stinging nettles and I’d like you to get some for me. Do not enter the forest, because the stinging nettles there are imperfect. Go to the neighboring town of Stonebridge and ask the apothecary there… this child knows.” The apothecary waves vaguely at Fawn.

“My name is Fawn,” she says hopefully. The apothecary ignores her.

“Thank you,” the apothecary says, and closes the door.

Hey y'all... I'm taking a quick break because I have a bunch of tests this week for finals... see you next Monday!