Darcy stopped her Subaru and eyed the overgrown path. According to Google, this dirt road should lead to a trailhead parking lot, but it looked like if she drove any farther, she might end up “parked” more permanently. Her all-wheel drive had managed the old, rutted road, but the path was getting narrower, with branches rubbing her door panels. Did I take a wrong turn?
She glanced in her rearview mirror. There had been a space wide enough to turn around a short way back. Putting the car in reverse, she carefully maneuvered through the brush, backing into a flat area that looked like it would make a nice campsite.
The overcast sky filtered dimly through the thick canopy of trees, and she hadn’t seen a soul since turning into what had started out as a fairly decent dirt road. She rolled down her window and breathed in the verdant forest air. This looks like as good a place to start as any.
Her interview with the coven was the day after tomorrow, and she’d come in search of herbs to make an eloquence potion. This would be her last-ditch effort to overcome the stutter that ruined every spell she tried to cast. Poor Aunt Willow still had a patch of white hair behind one ear from one of her lessons. Darcy’d tried to buy an eloquence potion from the local apothecary shop, but it turned out it only worked for the person who made it, and the effects would not be permanent. But she didn’t need to be good at incantations, only steady enough to pass the coven’s apprenticeship test.
Cutting the engine, she reached over to the passenger seat to retrieve her copy of Wild Edible and Medicinal Plants of the Pacific Northwest. She was more familiar with gardens than wilderness, but her mom had sent her to summer camp every year of her childhood, and the forest didn’t daunt her.
Tapping her phone, she opened her GPS app and pinned her current location so she could find her way back, then tucked it and the book into a reusable grocery bag alongside a small trowel, a pair of purple and yellow gardening gloves, and a compact rain poncho. She looked around as she stepped out of the car, taking in a circle of stones around an overgrown fire pit. The mossy log seats around it obviously hadn’t been disturbed in quite a while, and knee-high saplings and brush filled the clearing.
Locking the car even though she doubted she needed to, she headed toward what looked like a trail on the uphill side of the clearing. According to her book, wild rhodiola rosea grew on rocky slopes at high altitudes.
She set off between the trees, scanning the surrounding plants for signs of fleshy rhodiola leaves. A thick layer of dry leaves and twigs crunched under her feet, birds sang overhead, and in the distance a woodpecker tatted out a rhythm. She let out a contented sigh, running her fingertips over the smooth gray trunk of a quaking aspen as she passed.
A scraggly thicket of salmonberries crowded the trail, and she sampled a few, letting the sweet juice coat her tongue. A mosquito buzzed her ear, and she reached into her bag for her homemade insect repellant. She wasn’t yet much good at magical potions, but she had a decent grasp of essential oils, and her minty-citrus concoction not only worked, it smelled good. After dousing herself, she tucked the small spray bottle away and continued on.
The path grew steeper, making her calves burn as she climbed until she reached a sharp turn. To her right, the trail paralleled the top of a rocky ridge, but about fifteen feet below, she spotted a clump of rosette shaped leaves. Rhodiola? She stepped toward the edge to get a better look.
The ground beneath her feet collapsed. Too startled to even scream, she bumped and slithered helplessly down the incline on her backside, coming to a stop among a rain of pebbles and dust.
More stunned than hurt, she sat up and pushed her strawberry blonde hair out of her face before struggling to her feet. Other than a few scrapes and a racing heartbeat, she wasn’t hurt, thank the Goddess. Next to her, scaly rosettes of rhodiola crouched staunchly among the rocks. Amidst the dust, her minty-citrus scented insect repellant had become cloying. She pulled the crushed bottle from her bag and wrinkled her nose. Oily residue covered everything inside. She wiped her phone and the book on the leg of her jeans. At least she’d be insect-free for a while.
Along the cliff face behind her, a scoured swath of dirt and stone showed her path down the steep incline. It was a wonder she wasn’t seriously injured. She peered both directions along the wall. Not one spot looked possible to climb.
“Fuck,” she muttered. Her stutter never affected her curse words.
She turned back to the rhodiola. Might as well make the most of the situation before I try to climb back up. She pulled out her book to make sure the photos matched, then put on her gardening gloves and shoved a clump aside to get at the root. The plant seemed to grow directly from a crack in one of the large stones. If she could’ve used store-bought herbs, she would’ve, but for this potion, the rhodiola root had to be freshly gathered within seventy-two hours after a full moon.
Jabbing the pointed end of her trowel into the crack, she tried to pry it apart, but the tool scraped uselessly against the stone. She tried several angles, but the ground refused to give up its hold on the plant. Standing upright, she glared toward the overcast sky in frustration.
As if the heavens were laughing at her, a fat raindrop hit her square on the forehead. Great.
She wiped at the moisture with the back of one wrist, moving on to another nearby plant. All she succeeded in doing was breaking a fingernail down to the quick and snapping a few stems off at ground level. “I need these damn roots.”
How could this be so hard? Her trowel didn’t give her enough leverage against the rocks. She would have to come back with a full-sized shovel and try again. At least she knew where the rhodiola was now.
Stuffing her trowel and gloves back into her bag, she pulled out her phone to mark the spot on her app.
No reception.
She held the phone overhead and paced a few feet in either direction, waiting for a signal. The app refused to come up. Maybe the rock wall was blocking her. God, what a day.
Well, as long as she didn’t stray from the wall, she wouldn’t end up walking in circles. Eventually, she’d get reception again. Or at least find a relatively easy spot to climb and get back to the trail.
Phone in hand, she began walking along the base of the cliff.