CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The drink she offered us was less than appetizing. I peeked into my mug and beheld floating bits of flotsam and maybe a little jetsam. Their origins were a mystery. They could’ve been plant or animal, or in this strange world, both. The scent, too, left something to be desired. It smelled of apple juice and dusty crypt.
Both Tegan and I reluctantly took our mugs and stared at the bits floating on the top. Mabel put her hands on her hip and frowned at us. “Well? What are you waiting for? It’s worse when it’s cold.”
Tegan and I stared at one another in horror before he shrugged. He tipped his head back and downed the whole mug. I pinched my nose shut, shut my eyes, said a silent prayer, and did the same. The flavor was something between an overripe banana and
