John swallowed the lump in his throat to answer.

“Wolfsbane?” His nerves made his voice crack, and he cleared his throat before repeating himself, “Wolfsbane and, uh, licorice root?”

“Playing a werewolf or something?” Emily giggled.

’Shit. I knew I should have looked up more uses.’ The gamer scrambled for composure as his senses went on alert, everything slightly sharper than it was before. “That obvious?”

The woman shrugged. “There’s not really another use for that specific mix of herbs. You could say it was an easy guess.” As she spoke, she got a small but heavy mortar and pestle out from a cabinet behind her. There were many of various sizes and materials, but she specifically chose one made of white marble with grey veins cracking through it like lightning.

The heavily scented room made it impossible for John to focus fully on her aroma, but he watched her intently as she moved about. She was practiced, confident, but there was the slightest limp when she stepped with her right foot, though it didn’t seem to be causing her any pain. ’Must be an old injury. Doesn’t seem to bother her much.’ Ignoring his intent gaze, Emily fetched a bundle of small sticks tied with twine from a shelf along the wall, pulling one twig from the bunch before replacing the stack.

Silence stretched between them as she worked, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling. Every little sound was magnified, the clink of the pestle against the mortar, the rustling of the leaves, and then a loud snap. They both winced slightly as she broke the woody root into tiny pieces to fit into the bowl and Emily muttered an apology under her breath.

John smiled a toothy grin at her. “No worries. Is there another herb or mixture that does the same thing? I know this one can be toxic.”

“Eh, honestly, nothing else really works as well. Wolfsbane is the only thing that helps tame a supposed ‘wild wolf spirit’ and the licorice root makes it not so toxic. It is still very poisonous, though.” She paused her grinding to think. “If you just want the look, any dried purple flower could pull it off and would not be as dangerous.” The witch started grinding again, her emerald eyes alight with excitement. “There’s actually an orchid that looks very similar.”

“Well,” John’s mind worked to find an excuse to get the real thing, “the group I game with would want the real deal.” He rolled his eyes in emphasis, as if annoyed by his imaginary friends.

“Mm… That’s fair.” Emily looked him over as she worked, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. “I can’t comfortably give you a mixture strong enough to kill, but eating or drinking this will still get you really sick.” She paused her grinding and winked. “Unless you’re truly a werewolf. Then, if you believe the fables, a deadly level for humans would just make you sick, and the mixture I’m giving you isn’t nearly that strong.” A tinge of pink spread across her lightly freckled face as she got back to work. “Supposedly, at least.”

John’s heart skipped a beat as he, again, was made to think about just how toxic this mixture was to humans, but was slightly comforted by Emily’s last statement. Her voice was so calming, like his mother’s almost, he felt he could trust her. How far, though, remained to be seen. The soft grind of roots on stone was broken again when she stood straight and wiped her brow.

“Hey, could you do me a favor and help me reach the bottle of wolfsbane?” Her sheepish grin made John chuckle.

“Sure, where is it?”

The slight girl turned and pointed at a shelf behind the desk that was easily a foot beyond her reach. “You should keep a ladder around with shelves that high.” John couldn’t help but laugh as her blush deepened.

“It’s not exactly something I have much use for, so it’s tucked out of the way.”

He strolled over, slipping into the space behind the desk with her, and caught a sudden rush of her scent through the lingering incense. The herbalist smelled of sandalwood and orange. Citrusy and clean, but still natural. She pointed the correct bottle out to him and John stretched, reaching for the glass jar, before his hand was swatted away by a black paw.

“Woah!” John yanked his hand back, falling against the sturdy desk behind him. “What the hell was that?”

“Felix!” Emily half-answered, half-shouted as a black cat slinked between the vials, nearly tipping a few over on the thin shelf. “The heck is wrong with you?!”

The feline arched its back and hissed, spitting at them both. “I’m sorry,” the herbalist turned to her customer, “I’ve never seen him like this before. He’s usually all over my customers.”

John’s hands balled into fists and he cleared his throat to cover a growl. “I’m, uh, more of a dog person. Maybe he can tell?”

She frowned, looking up at the black ball of hostile fur. “Maybe…” She mumbled something under her breath, quiet enough for John to barely hear it, but it sounded like she said “Stupid familiar…” before sighing. “He didn’t hurt you, right?”

“No, just startled me.” The lycan looked his hand over, pushing away from the slab of wood digging into his lower back. “I’ll try again. Maybe he just got startled, too.”

“Careful...” Emily mumbled, watching him as he reached slowly back up for the dried petals.

Felix pulled back against the wall behind the shelves, a quiet yowl reverberating in his chest. John cast Observe on him while he snatched the bottle.

Unfortunately, as he pulled back his hand, Felix lashed out with his paw, digging his claws into John’s skin. John growled, dropping the bottle into Emily’s quick hands, and the cat hissed, spitting at him in distress and anger.

Then, suddenly, the cat was gone. Startled, the gamer stretched, looking for him, but there was nothing there but shadows behind the rattling bottles as they settled back into place. He caught a glimpse of the wretched feline dart behind its owner before he noticed the look on Emily’s face in the corner of his eye. Ignoring the cat for now, he turned to the shopkeep as she stared, gaping openly at him.

“This isn’t for a game…” the witch whispered, stepping closer in the small space, “is it?”

Every alarm in John’s head was going off and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, the calm smile on his face twisting more to a snarl at the threat. ’This is bad.’ One foot already moving to take a step back, he stumbled around the desk, using the glossy surface to create some semblance of a barricade between him and the gaping witch.

It wasn’t until he was on the other side that she seemed to snap out of her shock. Still clutching the bottle of monkshood petals, Emily reached towards the young lycan and shouted in another language as John turned to run.

The door was gone.