ETERNAL BLOOM
Rough Draft
Written by Katie Garbutt

All ownership rights are to Katie Garbutt. Sharing of this document will require permission of the author.



Chapter 1-Amaranthe:



I stared at the bloodied, bashed figure lying on the straw tick with blank surprise, careful not to let any of my thoughts flicker in my gaze. No doubt the man was yet another poor unfortunate creature in need of a "kind hand's help," as my father-Cosmas-would put it. The man lay in the bed Cosmas used only when he was too exhausted from research to make his way back into the inner walls of our house. I cocked my head to the side thoughtfully. This man was very dirty, and quite unconscious. I had the furtive suspicion that when he woke up, he would have no idea who had saved his life, and would be quite distraught. I was dreading that moment. The patients hardly ever had good reactions to us.
"Who is he?" I asked softly.
Cosmas wasn't listening to my words. "Amaranthe, will you check him for me? I'm busy mixing up this potion . . ." he muttered, his voice faraway.
I sighed.
In the cramped space of my father's workroom-a shed, really, that had been added onto the back end of the house just ten years ago-there was very little space with which to work with. The air was stifled, since he hardly left the windows open, and I had to keep my breathing shallow as I checked the stranger's pulse, and ran my fingers over his limbs. I grew frustrated in just a few short moments, when my deft yet sightless fingers couldn't determine what precisely ailed the man fast enough. I wasn't patient when I knew I didn't need be. When I was sure Cosmas wasn't looking, I muttered a few choice phrases under my breath.
The magic pulsed softly within my bones, my veins, my very being, warming me and yet letting me feel little else besides the patient. Through the workings my mind and spell, I traveled quickly through the man's motionless form, concentrating with difficulty as every cell in his body told me what was not right inside. There was a lot of numbed pain, including many tiny, minuscule pains from swollen, overused feet, a blister here and there . . . near everything his body told me was inconsequential. I listened carefully for what was serious. In a matter of seconds, I withdrew and held my hands in my lap delicately, as if I'd done nothing but touch the skin.

"He has two cracked ribs . . . a broken one as well . . . and on the right, his shoulder is sprained and the leg seems broken." I pointed out calmly as Cosmas shuffled around restlessly, muttering this and that as he crushed herbs to make potions. I waited for him to notice I was speaking to him.
After a few long instants had passed, he glanced up at me, then at the man in his makeshift bed. "Oh. Yes, I knew that already when I brought him here." he said distractedly, pouring the powder into steaming water.
I watched him for a moment.
"Father," I said, knowing he'd hear and listen to me if I called him that-I rarely did, 'father' was too long a word. "Where did you find this man? Do you even know where he comes from or what happened to him?"
He mumbled unintelligibly as he transferred the green liquid from the clear container to a small pouch with a long, flat nozzle. It was so the patient could be given the medicine with little difficulty. Cosmas shifted from one foot to the other as he fingered the sac. My eyes narrowed into a hard glare at the sudden uneasiness of his eyes and manner. I knew that look all too well.
"Cosmas, you know nothing of him, do you?" I asked, voice flat, my face smooth.
Again, he mumbled indiscernibly, shaking the pouch of medicine, mixing the ingredients nervously.
"And yet you've brought him here to be my husband . . ." I continued archly.
He blushed, more at being found out, I suspected, than over what he'd done.
I sighed, and then stood, crossing my arms over my chest. "What is that you're making? Didn't you say it was medicine?" I strode over to him, taking the pouch from him with a cold stare. He paled the tiniest bit before twin patches of crimson blotted his creased cheeks again. I snorted, and then sniffed the concoction. The heady scent of rose and anise stung my nose. My eyes narrowed. He'd deliberately used the pouch so I couldn't see what it was he was devising.
"Very nice. This potion makes men feel an increment of passion, or excitement around the opposite sex, correct? A sound, but subtle aphrodisiac . . . it makes one experience infatuation." I observed lightly. "But . . . seeing that I'm the only female in a five mile radius, and encompassed by an impassable barrier created by you . . . this could only bring disquiet, don't you agree?"