Ophelia Shellwise's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

By late morning, Ophelia noticed the figure. Someone stood across the way, half-hidden behind a post, eyes fixed on her tent. They shifted when she shifted. They waited when she waited. Ophelia kept her hands busy with the plants, but her shoulders tightened. Whoever it was, they wanted her gone from the tent. And they were patient enough to wait her out. Ophelia stopped pretending. She walked straight across the path toward the post. The watcher startled but didn't run. He was a thin man clutching a bright book to his chest, leaf patterns climbing its cover, the words Medical Mary Jane stamped across the front. His hands shook. "I heard you grow the real medicine," he said. "My sister is sick. I've been waiting for the crowd to leave so no one sees me ask." Ophelia looked at the book, then at his face. Not a thief. A first customer. She stepped aside and opened the tent flap. "Come in," she said. "Quietly."