Elia’s fingers trembled as her eyes moved over the parchment from her uncle.
Two kinds of the same plant…
The words blurred, her vision swimming. One of enchantment, the other poisonous. Nearly identical, almost impossible to tell apart.
Her heart pounded violently in her chest. To think that a single mistake could mean death. She pressed the letter against her chest, her body cold, her mind burning with curiosity.
She needed to see it, to feel it, to touch it.
That night, beneath the dim glow of her candle, she penned her reply in hurried strokes. Her plea was simple but urgent:
I need a live sample. Is there no one who can help with this? She tied the parchment swiftly and sent the owl gliding into the night.
The silence that followed was torture. Days crept by with aching slownes
