Steam rolled through the trees over the moss and dirt of Bog Swallow's one rectangular road. It was a morning indistinguishable from the one before. Sabrina kissed the cold pillow that once belonged to her departed husband and felt her back pop with relief as she readied for the day. She left her room directly into the large space that acted as a dining, cooking, and bedroom for the only child in the house. Her daugher, Charmain, and her unlikable husband were ruining breakfast while their baby girl, Amanda, played in the paste they were trying to make into pancakes.
“You call that batter?” Sabrina complained loudly as she shooed her daughter away from the stove rocks. “Give it here, give it here.”
Sabrina was not mean to her daughter or her unwanted husband, but she was stern and stubborn in her ways. Breakfast would be harder than rocks if they made it. Instead of teaching them how to properly mix and make something edible, the older woman prefered to do it herself. Not only was this faster, it guaranteed that the useless lost adventurer her daughter made into a husband wouldn’t try to poison her. Sabrina didn’t think well of the man at all and knew he didn't think highly of her either. She kept those thoughts to herself but her expression said more than her words.
"Bart has an idea, Mama.” Charmain began hesitantly while starting to rub some paste off Amanda’s soft face.
“Does he now?” Sabrina kept the sarcasm out of her voice, but only barely. “Well, tell me what it is? Speak for yourself, Bart."
“You’re young as anyone,” Bart did not start off well. “but Charmain will be running the herbalist shop someday. I was just thinking it might be good weather for you to show her where you go to gather most your plants.”
Sabrina snapped her head up in his direction. Bart withered like a flower in snow. He’d been trying to get her to give Charmain authority to alter the shop since they were married. Sabrina didn’t trust him as far as her aging arms could throw him. But her lovely dimwitted daughter stepped out between them and spoke up before the woman could launch into a familiar lecture about how she was strong as ever and Charmain had no reason to take over yet.
“I lied, Mama. It was my idea. I was afraid you’d say no if I asked so I asked Bart to ask for me. I’m sorry, Mama. Forget it.”
Whether she believed that or not, Sabrina was touched every time her daughter said those words. I’m sorry, Mama. Forget it. She’d done it as a child to. Always getting whatever she wanted if she’d just put on a sad enough display. It was how she’d gotten approval to marry Bart. The woman was helpless against her daughter’s old tricks. And though Sabrina wasn't so old she'd call herself elderly, she knew she was getting on and would have to teach Charmain eventually.
"Fine. Fine!” She grumbled as she flipped over a slightly overdone pancake. “Find boots and pants that fit you well. No dress will do you good in the muck. And put a cloth in the bottom of the broken basket so you can use it without dropping everything.”
“Oh, thank you, Mama! Thank you!” Charmain exclaimed as she hurried off to do as she was told.
Bart said something about this meaning the world to Charmain but Sabrina spoke over him. She didn’t want to hear his earnest or falsified gratitude, never able to tell which it was. Instead she told him how to watch after Amanda while the women were gone. She'd rarely seen him take the initiative in caring for the baby girl and would have written him a series on how to do it right if she'd had the time or patience.
The morning mist had yet to clear when Sabrina and Charmain left the herbalist shop for the swamp. Mud caked boots reached Charmain’s knees while Sabrina wore plain shoes. Both their pants had a few loose threads patched over several times to keep the thorns off their skin. Charmain wore a pair of delicate looking gloves that once belonged to Sabrina back when she didn’t want to dirty her hands in this line of work. Her daughter was the spitting image of her a few decades younger. The moment filled Sabrina with pride.
They took their first steps into the bubbling swamp with confidence. Charmain followed her mother with earnest attention while Sabrina walked habitually. Her mind didn’t know where she was going as well as her body did, so she let it lead her to familiar spots that Charmain would have to memorize in her own way someday.
“With all the noises this place makes at night, I’d have thought there’d be more creatures scuttling about.” Charmain said while picking purple flowers under her mothers guidance.
“There’s plenty to be weary of out here. Deeper you go, more there is. Both to pluck and avoid.” The older woman warned.
“Mama,” Sabrina’s throat closed as Charmain said the name. She never started her sentences this way unless she wanted something she wasn’t likely to get. Her mother steeled her nerves in anticipation. “I’d like you to show me where you get the venom.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Sabrina answered before fully realizing the question.
“Listen, Mama. So many people get sick coming through here. The venom you use heals all sorts of things from colds to spider bites and bad food. Remember, just a few days ago the old man who lives upstairs in the tavern came to you with infections from the swamp? All you did was give him some mixed up venom and he was right as rain.”
“That venom isn’t a cure all. You got to know what to mix it with.” Sabrina countered.
“So let’s go get some and you can show me how you do it!” Her daughter righted her posture and raised her tone.
“You keep your voice down.” Sabrina loudly said herself. “You want the whole of what’s sleeping out here coming to see the ruckus?”
“I’m sorry, Mama.” Charmain started with a sigh.
“Don’t you dare.” Sabrina interrupted. If she let her get those final words out it’d be over and they’d be waist deep in the bog for venom.
“I just want to learn how to help!” Charmain tossed down the already broken basket. Purple flowers bounced up and out, ruined as they sank into the puddles much deeper than they first appeared.
“You quit this fit throwing right now.” The woman tried to reel her daughter's temper in.
“Forget it! I’ll just go back and coddle Amanda. You don’t want me to take over anyway. It’s obvious by how you refuse to let me help.”
“Now hold on.” Sabrina took a deep breath to steady her nerves a second time.
But it was too late. Charmain was crying in that quiet way she did. Her eyes watered and she didn’t wipe them, letting trails run past her nose that never got snotty when she cried. Sabrina always envied that a little. Her own sobs were full of spit and snot, but her daughter had the look of a downcast angel when she got sad enough to shed tears. It crumbled her old heart into compromise.
“Alright now, enough of that. Come here, let me dry your tears.” Sabrina wiped her hands clean on her apron and used her thumbs to smear the water through the dirt of her daughters face. “I’ll show you where I get it, but that’s it, you hear me? Now isn’t a good time to get it.”
Played like a fiddle, Sabrina let Charmain jump and hug her and repeat how happy she was. The woman sighed and let it go for now but vowed to be more resolute in the future against such fake sadness. They turned and walked close together as Sabrina led her daughter deep into the bogged down woods, reminding her every few steps that quiet was key for what was to come.
Sabrina got her venom from a sickly serpent that spent most its time sleeping in the shallows of the bog. It rested half in the clean water of the great tree that marked the center of this swampy landscape and half in the filthy mud that was characteristic of everywhere else. Only when the sun was bright, warming the mire with uncomfortably heavy steam, was it safe to approach and collect excess venom from the water it spit into around itself. She’d never dare collect straight from the fangs.
No one else would either. Which meant the footprints that started appearing in the mud either belonged to foolish travelers or the fabled swamp witch that once lived in Bog Swallow. Neither of which Sabrina wanted to encounter.
“Look, Mama. Elves.” Charmain whispered, pointing to the side of where they’d been headed.
This was not the first time Sabrina had seen an elf. They were rare in the swamp but not so rare that she thought Charmain was justified in gawking. It was a whole group, perhaps a whole family, of at least a dozen elves whispering to themselves. Sabrina had always had good hearing and barely managed to catch one say they were lost. Which was no surprise to her given how unforgiving the ever shifting swamp was.
She did feel a jump in her chest as several looked in her direction though. Her motherly instinct was first to step between them and Charmain. But her daughter, much livelier than her, raised her hand in a wild wave of hello. The one to wave back was a boyish little elf. Sabrina would have guessed him to be ten years old, but knew their kind aged differently and therefore couldn’t safely tell.
The waving was fine. Few creatures relied on sight in the swamp and wouldn’t take great notice of them. But the young elf, before Sabrina recognized the movements of his jaw or the other elves knew what was happening, shouted.
“Can you tell us how to get out of the swamp?”
His voice wasn’t particularly loud. It was just enough to reach Charmain as if she were being called across a room. Sabrina clapped her hand over her daughter’s mouth immediately to stop her form replying. The elves weren’t sure why she did this and Sabrina wasn’t about to loudly explain herself.
“We don’t mean any harm! We’re just a bit lost!”
Several shouts came at once. Sabrina’s own voice rose to tell them to be quiet against her better judgment to let them reap their consequences alone. But it was too late. Even if she’d said it after that first boy shouted, it was too late.
The serpent she collected from had hearing better than hers. On a day like this, where there was fog left from the morning and a comfortable chill bouncing between the trees, the snake was alert for prey. Charmain began shrieking beside Sabrina's ear, right through her hand that did nothing to muffle the volume. Her own voice was just a gasp, mildly tasting of salted mud and copper blood sprayed in her direction.
Hanging from the mouth of a snake large enough to blot out the sun was one of the adult elves. A leg was snapped clean off, laying in the mud while the other dangled like an uncooked noodle.
“Run!” An elf had the mind to shout.
It was the last sound they made before the blind beast turned and finished swallowing the first elf in time to slam into the ground with its mouth for this next one. The ground shook violently and Sabrina’s older bones lost their balance. Charmain was in real tears now, her face redder than a bee sting and twisted with horror. She was a cowardly girl and always had been, but Sabrina didn’t begrudge her for it. Her daughter dropped the empty basket and fled into the trees while the elves scattered.
Sabrina sat in her own filth mixed with the swamp, knees too weak to let her stand. Fear had never gripped her like this. The eyes that had watched Charmain grow from a babbling baby to a crying woman with a child of her own did not watch in disgust as her daughter abandoned her. Instead they watched in hope that she’d find her way home, even if it was alone. Charmain fled on strong legs. She didn't trip nor make herself falter by looking back at the monstrosity and the carnage it caused.
Bog Swallow was not named for the beasts within it though. It was named for the landscapes penchant for sucking things down without evidence, erasing them as if they’d never been there.
Charmain vanished. Brown hair flying up as her body was pulled down. A bubble of mud and her boot impressions in the muck nearby were the only signs of where she went.
“My girl!” Sabrina wailed despite knowing silence was her key to survival.
Both the snake and the swamp were having their way with the intruders. Elves were being snapped and swallowed whole, Charmain and a few quick footed others were falling into pits to drown beneath the murk. Sabrina sobbed into her hands with too much sorrow to feel fear. All sense of self was lost; until the monstrosity turned its head on her.
Bright blind yellow eyes seemed to focus in her direction. She scrambled to a kneeling posture, not quite making it to her feet. The beat slammed towards her. Sabrina held her breath in her breaking chest, bones and heart alike in too much pain for her to think silence was possible. Scorching pain made her grind her teeth so hard several were loosened in her mouth. The entire right side of her head was ablaze with heated blood. Her head slammed into a tree and pressed forward on the left side, mirroring the pain on the right as if she’d been slapped between the two largest fists in existence.
It was a blessing to lose consciousness.
The sensation of worms trying to enter her ears woke Sabrina. She swiped with instinct to throw the critters off only to feel a burning wind as if the sun itself had breathed over her ears. Or lack thereof. Her jaw trembled yet felt locked in place. Blood both dry and dripping spilled over her shaking hands. Carefully, with more can than she held her newborn baby three decades ago, Sabrina tapped the sides of her head. Soft flesh stung like knife wounds at the gentle impact. With a slight turn she saw the chaos she’d mercifully slept through.
The serpent had slithered its heavy body back towards the center of the swamp where it rested. It was gone, but not before it had its fill. Half eaten elves were slowly being claimed by the swamp, as Sabrina would have been in the hours to come if she’d not woken up. Blood replaced the mud. One of her ears was smeared into jam on a nearby tree while the other was gone entirely. Only a basket laid trampled where she’d last seen her daughter.
With alarming clarity, Sabrina was thankful. Even though both her ears were gone, it was only an ear in the belly of the beast, not her whole self. And despite the odds, Sabrina was alive. She was in shock, the pain yet to fully set in, but alive. If she could make it home before it got too dark to see and her sense of feeling returned to her, she might be able to tell Bart how to make her something to help keep her on her feet.
All thoughts of Bart were tainted by the loss of Charmain. But grief would have to wait, or at least walk hand in hand with survival. Sabrina bit her tongue and felt her misaligned teeth as she wobbled to her knees. The way home was long, at least an hour, but she could make it if she stayed focus.
One last distraction found her tearful eyes. A boy, an elven child, the one who started everything and called out because they were lost. He laid unconscious on a mossy boulder. His arm was twisted terribly as if it could be pulled free like loose string, and it was impossible to tell what blood was his or that of his kin drenched across him. But Sabrina saw his chest unmistakably rising and falling with quiet ragged breath.
~~~~
“Welcome to the Howling Herbalist. What ails ya?” Sabrina followed her shouting with a cackle.
She loved watching the lost travelers and young swamp folk flinch at her shouting. They always looked at her earmuffs first, as if accusing her bad hearing on her constantly wearing them. Few to none knew there were no ears underneath. But her customer this time was not one so easily startled into jumping or shouting back in response. Sim Nates, the only elf in Bog Swallow, knew Sabrina’s habits too well to let them scare him.
“I heard Amanda talking about her birthday, so I thought to come by and offer to help go gathering so she doesn’t have to.” The kind elf offered, always finding excuses to try to lighten Sabrina and Amanda's work.
“Nonsense!” Sabrina shrieked. “Girl’s got to learn! Got to know where to go when I’m gone.” She laughed despite the morbid topic.
"Don’t say that. You’re all the family she and I have left. And you’re as young as me.” Sim smiled his handsome young elvish smile. Even twenty years later, his age was still a mystery.
“Nonsense!” Sabrina repeated sternly. “Your kin are out there somewhere. Some day you’ll find them, or they’ll come back to find you.”
"I’m not sad they left me behind. You’re as much family as I need.” The elf brushed over the lies Sabrina raised him with. “Now tell me what you want her to gather so I can do it and she can have a birthday off.”
Every year they had this struggle of wills, and every year, Sabrina gave in. She reminisced about what had led to this predictable life as she shooed Sim out of her shop.
Amanda’s birthday was coming up and the young woman always got slow with depression. Her mother died to the swamp, her father ran off around that same time and likely met the same fate, and her grandmother was a howling old woman who was always busy healing some minor inconvenience to the town. Sim was adopted family, but not the family pretty young Amanda wanted in these moods. So Sim came in to take her work for the day, disregarding his own business of making preservatives to help the town of Bog Swallow eat better so Amanda could wallow in peace.
While Amanda lamented her lost family, Sim never spent much time wondering after his. Sabrina raised the little elf into a grown man on delusions that his nomadic family had lost him in the swamp all those years ago.
“They’ll come back for you if they can ever find their way. Bet they’re still fighting off the vines at the outskirts right now, trying to get back in. You know the swamp doesn’t let you out and in, don’t you? One or the other, can’t have both.” She lied, making him believe someday someone would come from him.
How could she tell him his family and her only daughter died because he shouted for help? As far as Sabrina knew, Sim didn’t even know the swamp serpent existed. Her missing ears and his dead family were secrets she was determined to take her to grave. Which, she often pondered around Amanda’s birthday, was taking an awfully long time to claim her.