Ch. 6 / Enchanted Serpent Blossom (Часть 2)

“Dang, Leafy, you’re real good with these vine things,” he said, shimmying on the ground.

It was as if he was pretending to try and get out of the bind.

Like when a babysitter tries to unravel herself from a child’s pillow-trap and puts on a real show.

“I knew that display with the lizard runts was impressive, but now that I can feel it for myself… All I’ve gotta say is I’m impressed.

This is some serious bondage, man.” I froze.

How did he know about the scaletongues?

Even though I knew their bodies were long gone, I still glanced around, as if maybe their ghosts were still visible, hanging in the air.

But the clearing was empty.

All that was left was some firewood I’d been chopping and my garden.

Mickey clicked his tongue.

“Putting two and two together, are you?” My jaw clenched.

I thought back to all the times in the last few days that I’d felt something tickling at the periphery of my Plant Sense.

Crunching footsteps.

Rustling leaves.

Something hiding in the bushes.

Appearing, disappearing.

I thought it had been a large hare, or maybe another scaletongue.

“You’ve been watching me,” I muttered.

“BINGO!” He shouted it at the top of his lungs.

Even more birds flew their nests, the foliage above shedding leaves.

I squatted down to his level.

“Why?” “Why was I watching ‘ya?” “Yes.” “‘Cause that’s what I do.” He grinned wide.

“When I’m planning on killing someone.” My eyebrows lifted slightly.

I wasn’t really surprised—given his general vibe—but I was still impressed and mildly unnerved by how straightforward he was about it.

“Are you from Earth?” I asked.

Even if the guy was a would-be murderer, he was also still the first human being I’d encountered since arriving.

And my mind raced with questions.

“Or are you a native?” “Urth?

Is that some kind of seasoning?” Native it is.

“Why do you want to kill me?

Did I do something to insult you?” I knew very well from my Ancient Cultures class in college—and from my upbringing—that for many human societies, it didn’t take much to earn yourself a spot on someone’s execution list.

It was no great jump to imagine life on a monster-infested planet might abide by some sort of honor code.

For the first time, Mickey frowned.

I couldn’t tell if he looked confused or annoyed by my question.

“Insult me?

I suppose…” He trailed off, his eyes peeling away from me, toward something behind me.

“I suppose you did insult me.

That’s not my reason for wanting to kill you, but it did happen along the way.

You insulted me with your plants.

The purple ones.

The way you’ve been all giddy looking at ‘em, holding ‘em.

Cradling ‘em.

Like they’re little baby infants.

You’ve got my brain all twisted in knots.” Now it was my turn to frown.

“I offended you… with my garden?” “Ga-den.” He played with the word like it was foreign.

“What in the world is a ga-den?” This man couldn’t be serious.

“You don’t know what a garden is?” He scowled.

I swear I smelled the faintest bit of smoke coming from his mouth.

“Don’t go insulting my intelligence.” “Didn’t mean to,” I muttered.

Hard to insult something that didn’t exist.

I sighed.

Whatever this guy’s angle was, he had already admitted that he was here to kill me.

Clearly he was playing some waiting game, but the longer I bought into it, the more of an advantage I lost.

The smart thing to do would be to strangle him here and now.

And yet—I paused.

He was looking at me eagerly, with a sincere, curious patience.

It felt wrong to cold-bloodedly murder him.

Not really because of my morals, which were shaky at best, but because it felt fundamentally stupid.

I would be losing out on crucial information.

As much as it pained me, I decided to try defusing the bomb before blowing it up.

“A garden is a place where you grow plants,” I said slowly.

He blinked, taking a long moment to process the information.

Splayed out on the grass with his arms tied behind his back, he looked like a worm who was being taught about soil for the first time.

I almost laughed.

“But don’t plants grow by themselves?” he said after a moment.

“In all kinds of different places?

I don’t see why you’re interfering with their business.” This conversation was really growing my appreciation for the work of the teachers at my school.

I took in a breath and tried to answer as specifically as I could.

“Technically, nothing grows entirely on its own.

Plants need water, and air, and sun.

Some plants manage to get those things by themselves, but some plants are a bit more finicky.

They need careful cultivation.

Fertilizer, sometimes.” “Fertilizer,” Mickey repeated softly under his breath, mesmerized.

“Sounds nice.

Tending to something.

Watching it grow.

Can’t grow much of anything down in the underground.

Unless you count the headache I’ve been carefully cultivating for the last twenty-seven years.

Ha.” In the underground?

Did he live in the abandoned jail I’d escaped from?

Mickey didn’t elaborate.

Silence enveloped the clearing, tension taut like a rope.

I felt like I was standing at the top of the mountain, the heel of my foot keeping steady a stone that, if I lifted my leg, could set off an avalanche.

I was about to open my mouth to finally get to the interrogation part of this conversation, when Mickey broke the silence with a sigh.

“That’s all real fascinating, Leafy.

It’s too bad the Ashmother still wants your blood.”