Poppy set her basket on the ground and straightened the sign beside her door. The painted letters looked uneven, but they spelled out what mattered: APOTHECARY. One day, merchants would travel from distant lands just to buy her remedies. Today, though, she waited alone in Goodie Bog, watching the muddy road for anyone who might need help. A man limped toward her, clutching his side. Poppy stepped forward, but he looked at her red hair and turned away without a word. She called after him about the flask on her table, the purple liquid inside that could ease pain. He kept walking. Poppy picked up the flask and held it to the light. The liquid swirled, vibrant and strange, made from those flowers she'd stayed up three nights studying. It worked. She knew it worked. But the merchant was already halfway down the road, searching for someone he could trust. Poppy set the purple flask down and reached for the other one. The pink liquid inside shimmered in the afternoon sun, casting bright spots on her workbench. She had made it yesterday for headaches, and it was perfect. The merchant hadn't even stopped long enough to see it. She corked both flasks and placed them on the shelf beside her door, where anyone passing could see them. Then she sat down on her stool and pulled the basket closer. The purple flowers still needed more testing. If people wouldn't stop for what she'd already proven, she would give them something they couldn't ignore.