Christina Pirkle's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

Christina slid the first drop of green fluid into a squat glass bottle with a cork stopper. She had found it near the wall, its sides streaked dark, its base marked with a small skull. It would hold what she gathered. Now she had to fill it. She pushed the cork tight, tucked the bottle against her chest, and turned toward the dark mouth of the hollow. The passage narrowed fast. Poisonous flowers grew thick along both walls, their petals fat and wet, glowing green at the edges. They blocked the path completely. One brush of that fluid on her skin would speed the venom already crawling toward her heart. She pressed her back to the stone and edged sideways, holding her breath. A petal grazed her sleeve. She froze. The cloth held. She breathed again and inched deeper, watching every hand-width of floor. Then the flowers moved. Not in wind. Something behind them shifted its weight. A creature stepped into the narrow gap, low to the ground, its body striped in the same warning colors as the blooms. Green scales, purple bands, spines down its spine like thorns. Its eyes caught the glow and held on her. It had been feeding on the petals, and now it looked at her the way a hunter looks at meat. Christina stopped. Two dead fingers. A half-empty bottle. No weapon. The creature's tail dragged across the flowers, and fluid dripped from the crushed petals to the floor between them. That gave her the answer. She could not fight it and she could not pass it. But it fed on the very fluid she needed. She crouched slow, set the bottle down, and pulled a wide petal from the nearest stem by its stalk, keeping the wet side away from her hand. She flicked it. The petal landed past the creature, near the deeper blooms. The creature turned its head toward the movement. It hesitated. Then it slunk after the petal, drawn to the fresh fluid, and slid into the flowers behind her. The path ahead opened. Christina moved. She snapped stalks by their dry ends, squeezing each bloom over the bottle's mouth. Drop after drop of green fluid slid down the glass. Her hand shook. Twice she nearly touched a wet edge and pulled back. The bottle filled to a third. Then half. Behind her the flowers rustled. The creature was coming back. She crushed one last bloom into the bottle, jammed the cork home, and backed out the way she came. The creature's striped head pushed through the petals just as she reached the wider passage. It did not follow into the open. Christina slumped against the archway, the bottle heavy and full against her chest. She had the fluid now. Enough to brew a real dose. But her fingers had gone numb to the second knuckle, and the deeper hollow now had a guardian that knew her scent.