“Picking flowers?” I say, then cringe at myself for stating the obvious.
“I’m making a bouquet for my mom.” Poppy shrugs. “She loves flowers.”
“Is that why she named you after one?”
“Yeah. Poppies are her favorite flowers. She said naming me Poppy was her way of never forgetting them after they stopped growing.”
I nod in understanding. A lot of plant species completely died out after the Last War, some from the radiation, others slowly fading away for no real reason. Poppies went that route, lasting long after the war before disappearing out of the blue.
The teenager approaches a bush that’s low to the ground and kneels, reaching for a tall flower with pale-purple petals.
“I wouldn’t do that,” I warn.
She stiffens, a frown touching her lips. “Why not?”
“It’s a violet bell.” I approach, flashing her a tentative smile before peering at the bush. “Yeah, that’s definitely a bell.”
“I’ve never seen these here before.”
“The violet bell is a mutation. It only blooms every three years. Closest relative in the plant world would be…” I think it over. “Hemlock, maybe. Bells don’t usually lead to death, but the sap can cause paralysis. If you get even the tiniest bit on you, you’re facing several hours of lying there paralyzed. It hits fast, too, within minutes of touching it.”
Poppy’s blue eyes flicker with alarm. She shuffles backward, as if the purple petals might jump out of the bush and attack her.
“How do you know all that?” She tips her head at me, curious and a little impressed.
“My uncle knew everything there was to know about plants, especially the mutations and hybrids that cropped up after the radiation from the Last War. He taught me which ones to avoid.”
“Oh. Well. Thanks.” She glances at the flowers with a newfound respect. “Why are the pretty ones always the most dangerous?”
I grin. That applies to men, too.
“I still need some fluffy leaves for the bouquet,” she says, sticking out her bottom lip. She looks around, now eyeing every single plant as if each one is harboring a deadly secret. “Is anything else going to paralyze me?”
“Paralyze, no. But see this red one?” I walk over to another bush and pluck a dark-red bloom. “This is crimlock. If you dig up the root and then boil and drink it, it’ll give you the worst stomachache of your life.” I flick the petals onto the ground and scan the other flower bushes. “I think the rest are safe.”
“Well, maybe stick close just in case,” she says shyly.
“Sure. I’d love to.”
“I was going to visit the aviary, too, if you want to join.”
“There’s an aviary here?”
Poppy’s face lights up. “Yes! It’s my favorite place on the entire mountain.”
We continue along the path for a few feet before she stops to pluck some thick green leaves.
“This should be good.” She tucks the bouquet inside her brown canvas shoulder bag. It swings at her side as she walks.
“So, tell me all the gossip,” I beg. “You must know everything that happens at the Dagger. Like…for example, who stole Mako’s gold chocolate? Do you think it was Raven?”
Her laughter sounds rusty, as if it’s not a sound she’s accustomed to making. “I have no idea, but I love his dedication to the mystery.”
“Same. Okay…what else…” I scan my brain. “Is Evlynne always such a quat?”
Poppy coughs out another laugh. “I guess I can see why you’d think that. Evlynne is tough. But I think you have to be when you get pregnant so young.”
My jaw drops. “Evlynne has a kid?” This is the first I’m hearing of it.
