Page 6 of Mate Night Snack
Katniss narrowed her eyes but took a sip. It tasted like honeyed smoke and something vaguely citrus. A warmth bloomed behind her eyes.
“What kind of plants are we talking about?”
“The kind that grow wild and whisper if you listen close.”
Katniss opened her notebook slowly, pen tapping against the paper. “You always this cryptic?”
“Only with people who pretend they’re not magical.”
“I’m not.”
“Yet.”
Katniss leaned in. “What do you know about Mabel Dorsey?”
Twyla didn’t flinch. Just lifted her tea, eyes not leaving Katniss’s.
“She was too curious for her own good. Like someone else I know.”
“That a compliment?”
“That’s a warning, sugar.”
Katniss blinked. “Based on what little there is to go off of, I assume maybe a wild animal? Like a wolf?”
The word hung between them like static.
Twyla didn’t answer. Instead, she reached into the apron tied around her waist and pulled out a small cloth bundle. She unwrapped it slowly, revealing a pale sprig of dried thistle bound with silver thread.
“Keep this on you,” she said, sliding it across the table. “If you keep sniffing where no one wants you, you’re gonna need it.”
Katniss picked it up. “I’m not scared of fairy tales.”
“You should be. The best ones are warnings wrapped in pretty language.”
A bell jingled near the counter, and Twyla rose like fog dissolving into sunlight.
“Walk the trail past the lake,” she said softly, turning away. “Some things want to be found.”
Katniss followed the winding trail out of town, past Moonmirror Lake, which shimmered like it had swallowed the sky. The water was unnervingly still, framed by weeping willows and moss-covered rocks. The kind of place you could swear was watching you back.
The farther she walked, the more the world around her seemed to shift. The path narrowed, wildflowers thickened, and her phone lost signal three steps past a bent wooden sign marked only with a hand-carved crescent moon.
Her boots crunched against fallen leaves, her breath growing shallower as the trees closed in. The light here was different. Dimmer but golden, like sunlight filtering through something old.
She pushed through a veil of hanging vines and stepped into a clearing.
It wasn’t large. Maybe fifteen feet across, ringed with ancient stones, their surfaces etched with unfamiliar symbols that seemed to be half-faded, half-glowing.
The air smelled strange. Not rotten or sweet.Alive.
She crouched near one of the stones, fingers brushing the carved groove. It pulsed faintly beneath her touch.
Not possible.
Katniss reached for her mic. Then a low growl stopped her cold.
“What the hell are you doing out here?”
