Deep breath out. Okay.
She watches me for a minute, then starts separating stems from the reject pile without being asked. Wrong technique—she's pulling instead of snapping—but the stems don't matter as much and correcting her right now will cost me thirty seconds I don't have.
"You're pulling wrong."
Apparently I have the thirty seconds.
"Show me."
"Snap at the node. Here. See the little bump? Snap, don't pull. Pulling tears the fibers and contaminates the petal oil."
She snaps one. Clean. "Better?"
"Better."
We work. The pile shrinks. My hands find the rhythm—sort, check, place, reach—and my brain empties into it. The panic about the animals, the ache in my feet, the fact that I haven't eaten since that dried meat Kestria handed me on the trail—all of it drops away.
Almost all of it.
I sort faster.
"Mel?"
Not Kestria.
I look up. Dara. Standing at the edge of my workspace with her arms crossed and her braid pulled tight and an expression I'd call nervous on anyone else.
"You said to find you."
Right. I did say that. Told Kestria to send her. Because the crushing technique—because if I'm the only one—because next time someone gets poisoned and I'm not—
"Sit down."
She sits. Cross-legged. Waits.
"Wash your hands first." I nod toward the water basin. "Clean. No oils, no dirt, nothing that could contaminate the extract."
She washes. Thorough. Good pressure, gets under the nails. I watch her hands and think mine, nine years ago, standing in a field I found by accident, crushing petals into a bowl I stole from the settlement because they didn't notice and I needed it more.
She sits back down. Hands up, dripping. "Now what?"
"Now I teach you how to make the only thing standing between this pack and dead wolves."
Kestria pauses her stem-snapping. Looks at me.
I don't look back. I pick up a handful of purple-edged petals and drop them into the mortar.
"These are what matter. The purple edges mean the concentration is high enough to counteract the toxin in moonbright poisoning. White petals work too but they're weaker—about half potency. I use them for fever reduction and wound cleaning. Different preparation, different ratios."
Dara's watching my hands. "How do you tell the difference? Some of them look in between."
"Hold it up." I hand her a petal. "See where the purple fades? If the fade line is past the midpoint toward the stem, it's a keeper. If the purple only reaches the first third, it's a white. Anything bruised or torn, throw it out. Damaged cells leak the active compound and you'll get inconsistent potency."
She turns the petal in her fingers. Holds it to the fading light. "Past the midpoint. This one's good?"
"That one's great."
"And these?" She grabs two from the unsorted pile.
