Two

“Why does no one live here?”

Merle was always full of questions. Their house was a small one on the steep hill up out of the center of Blest Island, the very path that led to the western half.

Theirs was the last on the right before the top, which meant that Bridget, Merle’s mother, could come and go unseen to the western half.

This was good, because though many people on the island made use of her skills and her preparations, there were others who disapproved of what she did. In days gone by, she knew, her art had been normal, welcomed, supported, but it seemed those days were gone.

The modern world had arrived with the new century, and Bridget read about it sometimes; the amazing new things that science had created: of lighter-than-air ships, of pocket cameras, of wireless transmissions.

She didn’t object to such things, she just didn’t understand why the old things she had learned from her mother should be swept aside by the new. And there lay a problem, because even Merle herself didn’t understand fully the ways of the dragon flower plant, that could heal if prepared in a certain way, or could kill if prepared in another. She had learned a little of its ways, but no one knew everything about it anymore, of all the uses it could be put to, of all the dangers it held.

“I didn’t say no one lives here,” she told Merle.

“But no one comes past our house and we live at the end of the lane.”

Bridget smiled. What a clever young daughter I have.

“In the old days, more people used to live on the western side. But they moved away. I don’t know why, but I’m glad. Only Nature lives there now. That’s all. Well, almost all.”

Merle didn’t hear this last part, because having gotten to the top of the hill, she raced down the long slope on the far side, her arms stretched out to each side as if to gather the fading September light.

“Wait for me at the bottom!” her mother cried. “Remember! There are dragons there!”

Merle squealed with delight.