Stringy yellow petals on scrawny stems, the witch hazel glowered from its jar of cloudy water. Cricket didn’t believe in witchcraft and all that hooey but still she had to do something. Everything was changing at the Mills. Faraday’s sect were pulling away. Tuck was slipping through her fingers.

“That’s the one you want.”

As if it was directly by her ear, the raspy voice made her jump. The raggedy man who had been in the far corner had somehow managed to slide up behind her. A trekker for nearly three years, Cricket had a rabbit sense for her environment. No one could sneak up on her. Slowly Cricket hitched her cloak to show her long blade.

“Just browsing.”

Hands up in mock submission, the merchant backed up.

“Forgive me. I forget how touchy you out townies get. Whereabouts are you? Hill people, Oceanfronts…Creeksiders.”

The way the man dragged out the last word, Cricket knew he saw everything and forgot nothing. Hand casually resting on her hilt, the trekker pretended interest in a group of candles. Blushing, Cricket noticed the candles were penis-shaped. She turned away. The raggedy man was at the counter wrapping a bundle.

“Instructions are on the inside. Witch hazel in the binding potion holds someone to you even against their will. A lust potion with dragon blood oil sparks sexual attraction. That’s the closest I can get you to love.”

He waved the bundle at her. Cricket shook her head and hurried to the tent opening. She spun. Glaring, she placed two cans of soup on the counter. Nodding, the man swept the cans into his tattered coat. Bundle stowed away, Cricket hurried out into the light.