B1 Chapter 2: Slug

They walked in companionable silence as Modivar led them to a patch of tumnus roots. He knew it would make a suitable substitute for the pumpkins Gwendolyn had eaten earlier. It only really worked in Elis potions. He was careful to take the most mature plants, leaving the juveniles behind.

He worked on hand and knee.

The woman beside him watched for a moment, scoffed, and then grabbed a handful of roots and yanked them free.

Modivar recoiled instantly.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he said, scrambling toward her. “Don’t do that. Don’t do that.”

She looked at him. “What? It’s just tumnus root.”

“Yes,” he said, a little breathless, “but we only want the mature plants, and the potion’s stability depends on how they’re picked. If we do this improperly, it causes more of the toxins from the three‑eyed mushrooms to concentrate than you would want.”

She looked at him. Then, she looked at the roots in her hand.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” she said.

“Tumnus root is a weird plant,” Modivar said. “It has something like an emotional state to its nature. The more stress it’s under when it’s removed, and the farther it is from maturity, the more unstable it becomes.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “You’re not just making that up, are you?”

“Why would I spend this much time picking roots if it wasn’t true?” he asked.

She looked down at his face. “I don’t know. Maybe you like wasting my time.”

“As much as I’m enjoying your company, you’re a…” Modivar said, then stopped.

“I’m a what?” she prompted.

He looked up at her, flustered. “You’re a… you’re the…” He faltered, then exhaled.

“This is the closest thing I’ve had to a real conversation in what feels like months,” he said. “Mostly, I get yelled at by villagers, and… I really don’t want to go back to only talking to Gwendolyn. She’s not the best conversationalist, as you could probably tell.”

He hesitated, then added quietly, “And I’m fairly certain I’ll go insane if I don’t find someone like you to talk to every now and then.”

She looked at him for a long moment, then snorted softly.

“So,” she said, “you’re desperate. Desperate for conversation?”

He nodded enthusiastically.

“Interesting,” she said. “I can work with that. As long as you’re not some creepy weirdo who… well. There are creepy weirdos. I’m just hoping you’re not one of them. I’m not going into details. That’s not important.”

She shrugged. “I can be your conversational partner if it gets me a discount.”

“Well,” Modivar rubbed the back of his head saying, “I was always planning on giving my first customer a free sample of my work. So I’ll give you a discount on that.”

He paused, then frowned slightly. “What’s free minus fifty percent?”

She blinked.

“Free?”

“Yeah,” he said. “You can have it for free.”

She laughed. “You’re funny. A little funny-looking, but also kind of funny.”

He smiled, genuinely, for the first time in a long while. “When I’m deeply depressed, I think I can be pretty funny.”

“Isn’t that just life?” she said.

“Life’s a lich,” Modivar replied.

“And then you die,” she finished.

They both chuckled.

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“All right,” she said. “Now we’ve got to go get those three‑eyed mushroom bastards.”

“Those things are never fun to get,” Modivar said. “But I have you.”

She stopped and looked at him. “What do you mean, you have me?”

“Well,” he said, “the funny thing about three‑eyed mushrooms is they’re usually surrounded by knitter beetles. And knitter beetles bite.”

He held up a finger. “Only one of us needs to get bitten for the other to get the mushrooms. And seeing as I’m the one who actually knows how to gather them, I don’t think I’m the one getting bitten.”

She eyed him sourly. “You planned this.”

“Not really,” he said. “But it is convenient.”

She sighed. “Give me a second. I think I know something I can do about the beetles so it won’t be that bad.”

She walked over to a shallow hollow and plunged her hand straight into the mud.

Modivar didn’t expect that.

Her dress was immaculate. Her outfit was immaculate. She didn’t look like the kind of person who got down into mud and muck.