Darkwing Duck Bushroot Novels & Stories

Cassian’s. Finally, in a grove split by lightning, they found it, pale stalks curling like fingers, blossoms white as bone. Widow’s bane. The root gleamed faintly under the storm, as if it knew lives clung to its harvest. They tore it from the soil with bloodied hands, stuffed it into pouches, and fled the grove as serpents pursued, arrows hissing through rain. Only half the riders returned. But their fists were clenched around the roots.

The Black Hawk said slowly, “I’ve read about a type of vine in ancient texts called the ‘Dousing Vine’. It can sleep deep underground for hundreds or even thousands of years. However, it wakes up from its slumber when it encounters fire. “Due to its long dormancy of hundreds or even thousands of years, its growth is extremely terrifying. Even a single tendril possesses tremendous power, making it incredibly challenging for even high-level martial experts to deal with it.” Sure enough, as the former leader of the Hawkeye Group, the Black Hawk was a walking encyclopedia. “Fuck! Are the Kleins sick in the head?” “First, it was Sanguis bats, then it was Dousing Vines. They must be insane.” “Godd

Shelves lined the walls, packed tight with vials, herb bundles, and handwritten labels that curled at the corners like they were tired of keeping secrets. I’d been here before. Once. But not like this. This time, I wasn’t looking for herbs. I was looking for proof. I moved shelf to shelf, fingers brushing glass and parchment. Bitterroot. Silverroot. Ghost thistle. Sleepberry. Burnt sage. Bone salt. Most were standard. Harmless, in the right hands. But some? Some were only used for wolves who needed to be silenced. I paused at a jar of Wormroot—crushed, sealed tight with a wax-stamped lid.

All was not lost. Abertha stopped trying to teach me prognostication and spellcraft, and we focused on growing shit and foraging for the big three. Basically, there are tons of useful plants, but there are three that are worth their weight in gold—dragon tongue, wolf’s bane, and ashbalm. Dragon tongue is like a drug, similar to steroids, and it grows under very specific conditions—like when the moon is in the seventh house and there’s a red sky in morning. It’s a hassle to harvest, but it funds Abertha’s extravagant and mysterious lifestyle.

"Someone trained her to survive this." The implications settled like stones in my gut. "How long till she wakes?" Maelin busied himself with unpacking vials of murky liquids, their colors unnatural in the candlelight. "The toxin's a hybrid. Mostly diluted neurotoxin - lethal in pure form. But there's something else mixed in." He crushed dried leaves between his palms, the powder glowing faintly blue as it hit the air. "Dragonroot, if I had to guess." "Daggermouth root only grows in the Wastes."

Hmm. Currently, we are at the riverbed, Jax and I, but far from the usual crowded or overpopulated areas of the pack. The thick trees around us would even conceal us from nearby eyes even if we were spotted. And the plants surrounding us are Akon- Greek and when translated means dart. The dart plant or monkshood, name comes from the sepal, the outer part of the flower, that covers the bud as it develops and supports the petals. The sepal resembles the cowl that monks used to wear. But it is more commonly known by most as 'wolfsbane'.

The vanilla and cream coated my senses, almost cloying in its sweetness. But underneath, something else entirely. Something that made every hair on my body stand at attention. Bitter. Earthy. Almost medicinal beneath the sweetness. A scent I'd learned to recognize years ago during my training. This wasn't normal food. Shadowroot. The name surfaced from memory of lessons learned decades ago. A mystical herb that grew only in the deepest parts of ancient forests, far from civilization where magic still pooled in the soil. It was used to put pregnant women to sleep before their delivery, to ease their pain and make the birthing process safer for both mother and child.

Even with the moon as a source of light, along with the lights inside the castle, I can see him sweating and acting like he doesn't know what I'm talking about when he was the one who brought it up. "Yeye," I say sternly and cross my arms over my chest. "You better tell me, or I will not let Takkar give you the herbs you took. And I know you took some when you left that day." The day he left for his journey was when Takkar told me some of his rare herbs, such as Thimbleberry, Sweet Ribwort, and Silkweed, were plucked. Each of them is deadly but has a sweet scent that sometimes confuses their cousins - the Moutain Red Snowdrops, Windroot, and the Fluxroot. The three poisonous plants are used

I gawk as one of the warriors hands Crimson a torch from his pack and a box of matches, only realizing when he spoke in his gruff voice, that that was the man who took me down. “What did you poison us with?” I finally ask, only thinking of and wanting to know now. “A thorn from the bush of Manchineel dipped in Nightshade.” He speaks. “And what did you give Tawny the night of the full moon?” Crimson growls out the question. This time Arik answers, “She was given Jimsonweed in her wine.” At least he looked guilty as he told us. “That and nightshade grow abundantly on our lands. Mix them together and you can take down anything and have them seeing shit for weeks.”

I sprang up and headed into the forest at a short distance. Time slowly crawled by. The sound of birds and chirping insects bombarded my ears as I pulled away thin branches. Going in deeper, I saw flower bushes shiver before animals ran out. Frustration bubbled within me. I'd been searching around the thick forest for an excruciatingly long amount of time, and all I could find were just burdock roots. A few more hours passed on before I gave up. Heading back into the house, I hastily cut up the roots, setting them aside while I dropped down on the cold floorboards and fished out the burner.