40
Honi rolled to his side, his stomach heaving. John held his hair back as he vomited into a bucket the shaman had helpfully placed by the bed. When the nausea finally stopped, Honi flopped onto his back, gasping for air.
“What the hell was that?” he finally asked, wiping tears from his eyes.
John shrugged. “Yeah, sorry about that. It’s a new herb mixture. You’re the first to try it. Maybe I need to adjust the dose.”
“You think?”
There was a reason why Honi avoided John’s homemade mixes. He still vividly remembered the hallucinations after the shaman needed a guinea pig for one of his special peyote mixes. Actually, not so much the hallucinations. They were to be expected. More like it had taken six months for his hair to grow back. His mom had not been amused.
A glass of water appe
