Page 8 of Call of A Eagle

“So, she’s an herbalist, then?” I asked.

It was a stupid question. Clearly, the old woman was an herbalist. No one kept massive garden beds overflowing with such a variety of herbs unless they were.

“Yes,” Lyra said without looking up.

“Are you?”

“I wouldn’t call myself an herbalist, no. I’m not nearly as knowledgeable as she is,” she said, her gaze still never shifting to me.

“What does she do with them?” I asked, even though it was another dumb question. “Like, what kinds of things does she make?”

I wanted to keep her talking. My eagle and I found her voice soothing—even if she was irritated with me.

“She makes teas and different tinctures for her online store,” she said, a small smile gracing her lips.

So, she was capable of smiling.

Good to know.

“That’s kind of witchy,” I said, pulling at a particularly stubborn weed.

Which likely meant the old woman might be the one I was looking for—there was a real chance she was Maribel.

“I don’t see it that way,” Lyra said, surprising me. “I see it as a form of beautiful wisdom.” Her eyes locked with mine then, and I saw her animal come closer to the surface.

Again, I wondered what she was.

We worked in silence for a while, knocking out a large chunk of the bed we’d been weeding together. The tension that had been between us seemed to have eased, but not by much.

She was skeptical of me, I could tell.

However, before I could think much on it, the cabin door opened, and for the first time all morning, Lyra’s grandmother made an appearance. I watched her as she walked slowly to the edge of the porch, her gaze focused on me.

“Hey there,” I said, flashing her my most charming smile.

The old woman didn’t return my smile. Instead, she shifted her attention to Lyra.

“Why don’t you take a break?” she said. “You’ve been out here all morning. Head inside and drink some water. I’m sure Waylen would love a glass, too.”

Lyra stood and wiped her hands on her jeans. “Actually, a break sounds nice.” She glanced at me. “Do you want some water?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

I started to follow her inside the cabin, but the old woman stopped me when I reached the steps.

“I’d like to go over the garden beds with you, show you a few spots that need extra care, if you don’t mind,” she said, though her expression hinted that she wasn’t entirely asking.

“All right. Sure,” I agreed, nodding as Lyra slipped inside.

The moment she was out of earshot, her grandmother turned toward me, a sly, sharp smile playing on her lips. She motioned for me to follow her. Once we reached the farthest garden bed, she shifted to look at me again. “You’re not much of a gardener, are you?”

My heart skipped a beat. “I—uh—what do you mean?”

Shit, this old woman had seen right through me.

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Don’t play coy with me, boy. I sent the true gardener away an hour before you showed up. Lyra might think we need to hire someone to get these old beds in order, but I’ve been working from them like this for years. A few weeds never hurt anything.”

“You knew?” I blinked, completely taken aback. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

---