Chapter 1

Thick welts of green vines bloomed with colorful flowers and weeds. They coiled amongst each other, tangled in a dangerous mess of pretty petals, poisonous bristles, and gentle lavender. The smell, slight and comforting, wafted from the entwined heap into the air, mingling pleasantly with the smell of my papa’s homemade fertilizer and my dad’s honeycomb.

It was soothing.

Sitting in the midst of my family garden, surrounded by the lot of pretty poisonous flowers, plump veggies, and thickening honey, it was something I found comforting. Perhaps it was the familiar smells that brought on my favorite memories. 

Whatever free time I have is usually spent here.

I would be curled up at the top of my favorite tree, either with my tablet or my book, enjoying the atmosphere the garden offered. Hunkering down in the treehouse my dad made me, peeking out to watch my favorite plants slowly bloom and grow. 

Sweet strawberries.

Ripening peaches and plums.

Tart green apples. 

Blooming honeysuckles and colorful roses. 

Some plants my dad and papa allowed me to plant myself. Others are ones I deemed as my favorite and was blessed with the responsibility for.       

My favorite thing to watch is the apple tree. Watching as the fruit slowly grew from its tiny fledgling to a medium sized, pale fruit. It still had time to go before the tangy skin would be flushed with a vibrant green and grew a few more sizes. 

Tearing my gaze away from the tree I was thinking about, I slipped on my gloves and turned my attention towards my papa.  

“Now be careful when picking the Dagoons, sweetheart. Those thorns are sharp enough to pierce through your gloves.” I watched as my papa's skilled hands worked through the dangerous vines. As one of his tan hands skillfully weaved through the poisonous thorns and colorful petals, the other wheeled the shears. The sharp shear nipped the end of the wild flower in a careful snip. “Now, these are very deadly to those who aren’t tolerable or immune to poisons. You're still a bit too young to handle this level of poison unprotected.”

I eyed the gloves that covered my hands. 

They were awesome.

It was colored in a pretty hue, in shades of rich royal and light baby blue. The brown tusk and branches stretched across the thick material, colorful petals and blooming buds scattered in messy clumps. A flurry of vivid colors, from the prettiest shades pink to the warmest hues of purple.

“See how the petals aren't all the same color?” The pad of his thumb gently probes the streak of lavender that slithered through the violet. “It means that it isn’t fully grown yet. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Lucky for us, the recipe called for a Dagoon that isn’t fully grown.”

As I watched the purple petal glow beneath his thumb, blooming in a gentle glow of soft lavender, I couldn’t help but to coo, “Pretty.”

“And dangerous.” He added as he carefully placed the picked flower into his filled basket. “Want to help papa extract the poison from it?”

“Yeah!”

 We spent the rest of the morning carefully plucking and milking Dagoons. Papa allowed me to do most of the gathering since it was difficult for me to milk the flowers. As he filled up vial after vial, I happily rattled on about the plants I was growing.

I took a peek at them before I started helping papa with the Dagoons. They’re little buds right now, a dark shell covering the growing petals. I was giddy to see bits of grayish pink poking out from the top. It was only a matter of time before they fully bloomed into Rosesuckles.       

It was only when the sun finally settled high in the sky that my papa decided we had enough plants. A sweltering wave of heat began to fall upon us. I could feel my hair slowly begin to poof up from the humidity. Sweat sticking to my forehead  

“Your hair.” Papa sighed, picking at a puffy curl. “I’m going to have to give it a wash.”

“Nooooo!” I groaned. 

“Yeeesss.” He mimicked. Ignoring my grumbles and growing pout, papa stood from his spot on the ground. With a snap of his fingers, a wand appeared in his hand. A sleek hue of midnight blue, the wand was only a few inches long and as thick as his finger. Papa pointed towards our home, “Now, come on. I know you're hungry and I’m sure your brothers are as well.”

“Can we eat sandwiches?”

“I’ll make all the sandwiches you want me too.” Papa spoke as his wand glowed. He waved it towards the baskets, surrounding them in the fog of magic. The baskets slowly began to rise in the air. “It’ll be easy to whip up a few of your favorites.”      

“I want a grilled cheese with bacon!”

“You always want that.”

“That’s because they're always good, papa!”

“I’m not complaining, hun.” Papa grinned, “Makes it easier for me to cook for you when you always ask for the same thing.”