There were always crows circling above Maple Summers. They stole the blackberries as soon as they ripened, and picked scraps from the compost heap.
From above, Maple Summers looked even smaller - just seven houses around a small strip of asphalt. The inhabitants had salvaged light bulbs and wires from the street lamps, but otherwise, the street was the same as it always was.
Sam stayed inside watching the crows from the window. It was her window now. Paul had carted over a single bed that once belonged to Rachel, and someone produced an extra nightstand and desk from one of the other houses. None of it matched - the bed was white, with blue covers, the nightstand was painted yellow, and the desk was a shiny dark wood. But it was hers now.
In the afternoon, Quinn invited her on a foraging trip. “One last one before the snow gets here,” they said.
Sam half wanted the snow to get here already so they could stop waiting for it.
Hannah March met them outside, her black hair braided into tight cornrows, big cloth bag slung over one shoulder. She didn’t say anything, just sort of fell in line behind Quinn.
“Alright, folks,” Quinn said as they approached the tree line. “Our priorities today are goldenseal, St. John’s wort, and milk thistle. Sam, you can hang with me until you know what to look for.”
They handed Sam a folding knife. Sam’s hand felt tingly holding it. Knives were useful for plenty of tasks, she knew that, but it felt like she was holding something explosive.
“Hey.” Quinn put their hand on her shoulder. “Should I hang onto that?”
Sam thought for a moment, then shook her head. She pocketed the knife.
Hannah wandered off down some path only she could see, and Quinn went the other way, slowly scanning the forest floor. Sam found herself watching Quinn as much as the ground. They were in regular person mode, which was how Sam thought of them when they weren’t wearing their white coat. The coat made them look official and a little intimidating. Their hair was a sort of greyish brown and shaved on one side. They knew some complicated braiding styles Sam couldn’t quite follow.
“Over here,” Quinn said, crouching in the wet mush of fallen leaves.
Sam bent down beside them. They were pointing at a yellow flower with thin wispy antennae.
Quinn cut the flowers from their stems, adding to the rainbow of stains on their gloves. “I’m trying to grow these inside, cause they don’t like the cold very much. But true wild plants are finicky.” They deposited the flowers in their shoulder bag. “We got lucky already.”
Sam trailed behind as Quinn worked around to join Hannah. They were talking about a compound Quinn was working on, something about measuring one thing into another thing. Sam wasn’t sure how much she was missing because she’d never had schooling, and how much was just that complicated.
As they walked, she was aware the prickly feeling in her chest might be considered something like jealousy. She wanted the easy camaraderie of Hannah and Quinn, walking in pleasant silences, pointing out interesting things to the other. It had been an awfully long time since Sam had allowed herself to want something. Sure, she had been jealous, constantly jealous of children with parents and bedrooms and nice clothes. But to want that for herself, well, why bother with impossible dreams?
On the other hand, it was hard to add to the conversation when she didn’t really know what a stamen or a pollinator was. She was, Sam thought to herself, a rather boring child.
She did pay close attention to what Hannah and Quinn were collecting. Besides the St. John’s wort, they cut what thistles they could find, and a plant with big leaves and tiny red fruits that they called goldenseal. Neither of them found much, but what they did find excited them much more than Sam would expect. Obviously this stuff was important.
Sam lingered behind, just in case the two of them missed something. And finally there it was — a little bit of red from the edge of a crack in a rock. Goldenseal.
The crack was a little more than that on closer inspection. It was some sort of tear in the earth, about Sam’s height across and too deep to easily calculate. The goldenseal was just a little ways down on one side, clinging to the rock.
Sam got down on her stomach and reached down. A few rocks tumbled down, but she felt secure enough. Only she couldn’t quite reach. Quinn and Hannah had been collecting goldenseal from the leaves down, so she needed those. She got on her knees and reached further.
Of course the moss was slippery, and the leaning out made it easy to fall. Of course she fell.
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