II.

Rushe-kih remembered the first time she’d seen vamfloria. A neighbor woman had discovered a patch outside her dug-out. While the men had gathered to fight the weed, the mothers watched with their children at a distance. Rushe-kih’s mother had pointed out the wide-eyed carcass of the doe entangled in the vine. “See that?” her mother had spoken in the choppy Northern tongue, “Vamfloria! Never forget what it looks like. The waxy leaves like upside down hearts. The open red blossoms. Run far away! Never touch! If you do, it will catch you,” she had knelt down, and Rushe-kih had felt her mothers eyes penetrate her own, “And if the weed catches you, you will die, just like that deer!”

It wasn’t until years later, after Rushe-kih had been apprenticed to the Behrowain healer, that she’d learned any practical uses for vamfloria. When dried, the red blossoms could ease the worst of pains. But vamfloria outbreaks were as rare as they were dangerous, and few knew to gather the flowers before destroying the plant. Even those who knew the weed’s virtues thought twice before risking their lives to save a blossom. Vamfloria performed its work of death quickly, whether it held man or animal. Yes, it was better to destroy the weed as soon as it was discovered. Rushe-kih wished she could stay to help Hem, so that he wouldn’t be alone as he faced the weed. It was dangerous. She must hurry.

She gathered Hem’s coat and gloves, the pitchfork and the axe Hem had conditioned and put away just that morning. Peering into the barn she counted all five staults, including Solee. So it must have been a goat, she thought.

Calling Win-fir, she opened the gate. The half-bird sidled up to his mistress affectionately, his feathery head reaching down to nudge Rushe-kih’s cheek.

“Come on, Win-fir! There’s no time!” she ordered, as he, sensing her agitation, ambled through the door and across the dusty yard to where Hem was assessing the damage beneath the willow.

“What do you think?” Rushe-kih asked as she helped Hem into his coat and wrapped a soft hide strip tightly around his face and neck, leaving only a crack for him to see through.

“It’s been here all day, I guess. Hiding in this shade, near as I can tell. Any staults missing?” he asked.

“All five accounted for. Must have been a goat,” Rushe-kih answered.

“Probably eaten by this time. Goats are small bait for vamfloria. Might be two. Hurry with Oriah, I’ll be needing him to hold the torch.”

Shrouded from head to foot, Hem moved closer to the sprawling vine. Rushe-kih knew it would sense his presence eventually. When it did, the vine would snake around him and pierce him with its thorns. His coat would not save him from these starving daggers; that was a pain he must endure. Rather, he wore the coat to shield against the waxy leaves, which each held a sac of oil. One drop of this oil and pain turned to pleasure. Thoughts of danger vanished even as the body was drained of its blood. If vamfloria was a killer, its weapon was seduction.

Rushe-kih pushed away the thought and nudged Win-fir firmly down on his front knees. Swinging her leg over his feathery round back, she held tight to each folded wing and balanced as the stault rose back onto his four legs. Directing him forward, she braced as he picked up speed.

Rushe-kih held tight as Win-fir’s long downy neck stretched out and back in rhythm. Staultriches were not creatures known for speed or balance, and Rushe-kih had to concentrate to keep from slipping off Winfire’s slanted backside. He slowed as he rounded the bend halfway to Oriah and Jezura’s. Feeling her push against his wings, he urged his clawed feet forward. Before the cabin was in view Rushe-kih glimpsed Oriah working in the yellow fields, and guided Win-fir off the path.

“Hey there, Rushe-kih!” Oriah called as Rushe-kih rode up and dismounted. “What brings you out this way?”

“Come quick, Oriah!” The words gushed from her mouth. They had spun round and round her head, making her dizzy and anxious. “It’s vamfloria! An infestation! Hem is already working in it, but he needs someone to hold the torch. There’re already dozens of flowers, and it’s growing up the tree.”

Oriah knew that vamfloria growing into the branches of a tree only heightened the danger, as the shoots could grow downward and attack from above.

“I’ll be on my way,” Oriah threw down the basket he was holding, “Just as soon as I gather my coat and things, and talk to Jezura…”

“There’s no time! Take the stault and go now! I’ll fetch Jezura, if she can bring her medicine bag and help. I’m worried for Hem. He’s alone.”

“I’ll go now then. Jezura can leave the baby with Ahr-tyr,” Oriah said as he mounted the heaving stault, “Jezura has him weaned now, and Ahr-tyr is getting to be quite the little mother. I’m sure she’ll be happy to help.”

“Speed, good Oriah!” Rushe-kih wished he’d stop boasting about his children and go. She knew he was proud of his growing son, but her worry for Hem gripped her heart with a strangle hold.

“Don’t worry, Rushe-kih. Hem’s faced vamfloria before, and so have I. We know what to do.”

He cued Win-fir, and they tore off toward the road, leaving Rushe-kih to run for the dug-out far across the field.