Hannah Mitchell's Arc

Chapter 2 of 8

Hannah lined the three jars on the shelf and tipped them into the light. One held a thin layer of mint. The other two showed only dust and a few crushed stems. Tonight more travelers would come than last night. She could brew for four, maybe five. The guardian at the door had counted nine sleepers already. Hannah pressed her hands flat on the shelf. She needed leaves, and she needed them before dark. She walked back to the cottage in the grove, hoping the old shelf held more. The jars there were empty too. She had already taken everything. She stood in the doorway and heard a soft chittering behind her, near the treeline. At the edge of the clearing stood a strange tree. Its trunk curled like a burrow, with round openings carved by nature or by paws. Little brown gophers poked their heads from the holes. They watched her with black eyes. One sat in a hollow at the base, cheeks stuffed full. When it saw her, it dropped what it carried and scurried up the trunk. Hannah knelt where the gopher had been. On the ground lay a small pile of green leaves, fresh and whole. She crushed one between her fingers and smelled mint. The gophers had been gathering them. She looked up and saw the branches. Around each opening, the little animals had tucked bundles of leaves to dry, dozens of them, tied with grass. "You're storing them," she said aloud. One gopher climbed down and set a bundle by her knee. It waited. Hannah understood it wanted something in return. She had brought a heel of bread in her apron pocket. She broke it and laid the pieces at the roots. The gopher grabbed a piece and carried it into the burrow. Others came out. They ferried more bundles down and stacked them in a growing heap. Hannah filled her apron and both arms. She counted twenty bundles, then stopped counting. It was more leaf than her three jars had ever held. The gophers kept working, and she understood they would keep gathering if she kept bringing bread. Periwinkle left bread at the cypress each morning. Hannah could carry a share here. She hauled the leaves back to the travelers' house and spread them on the shelf. That night nine guests woke and each held a hot mug. No one drank plain water. No one left cold. But the shelf was already low again by dawn. Hannah realized the truth as she swept the last stems into the kettle. The gophers gave her a supply, but only while she fed them. Her tea now depended on bread she did not bake. If Periwinkle's loaves ran short, so would Hannah's leaves. She had solved the drought and tied herself to another's oven.