Bella Remedwell counted three vials of healing tonic and knew they would not last the road to the next town. She poured the last drops of pale red sap into a cracked bowl. It was too little. The sap came from a slender plant with white petals and red-veined stems, and she had used the last of her dried stock two days ago. Without fresh sprigs, she had nothing new to sell. A caravan trusted across every province of Teradominus could not begin with empty shelves. She climbed into the driver's seat of her covered wagon and looked at the crates behind her. Bandages, dull salves, cheap oils. Nothing that would make a sick child well. A tree frog with bright green skin sat on her shoulder and blinked. "I know," she told it. "We need the flower. Fresh." She remembered the stone rubble near the last stream, where strange vines grew thick. Travelers called them greedy plants. They fed on rot and waste, and their tangled stems dropped fruit in heavy clusters. Bella had once seen the white flower growing at their roots, where the soil stayed rich and damp. She turned the wagon back the way she came. By midday she reached the vines. They climbed over broken stone in a lush mass, fruit hanging red and orange between the leaves. The air smelled sweet and sour at once. Bella knelt and pushed her hands into the wet dirt at the base. She dug past roots and pulled leaves aside. Nothing. Her fingers ached. A red-tailed squirrel darted along a vine above her. It stopped, snatched a small white bloom in its teeth, and scrambled higher. Bella froze. The flower. The squirrel had found what she could not. She pulled dried fruit from her pocket and set it on a flat stone. The squirrel watched. It crept down, grabbed the fruit, and dropped the flower. Bella lunged and caught it before it hit the mud. One sprig. She parted the deep tangle where the squirrel had climbed and found more, hidden under the thick shade of the vines. She cut six stems with her knife. Back at the wagon, she crushed the fresh sap into her bowl. The tonic turned bright red and clear. She filled every vial she had, twelve in all. The frog watched from the crate lid. Bella wiped her hands and breathed. Then she looked at the sprigs left in her basket. Only two remained. Twelve vials would sell fast in one town. To supply a whole province, she needed more than what grew wild by one stream. She needed to grow the flower herself, in quantity, or find where it grew thick. Bella sealed the vials and turned the wagon toward the next town. She had something to sell now. She did not yet have enough to build what she wanted.