Senna
I used to think my brain was a box with a locked lid. I liked the lock because it kept me safe and let me do my work. But tonight, the lock just fell off and everything inside came pouring out.
"It is just a ritual blend," I said to the empty infirmary. I was talking to the bowl of herbs on my table. I talk to myself when the room is too quiet. "The pack member asked for it. Cedar, dried petals, and that one special root. It shouldn't smell like this."
I held the small bundle over the candle flame. The smoke went up in a thin, grey line. It didn't smell like medicine or dirt. It smelled like a hallway. A very specific hallway with cold stone floors and high windows.
"Senna, stop looking at the smoke," I told myself. My voice sounded small. "Just finish the blend and go to bed."
