A black cauldron hangs in the stone hearth, and its contents emit a putrid smell. Long, tapered candles, their surfaces ribboned with melted wax, are scattered around the room. Cracked ewers and branches line the floors. In one corner, a mattress displays two body indentations. Perhaps a couple once lived here, and that’s where they slept. Beside the bed, I see a wardrobe, and I fly towards it. I open its doors and scream with excitement.

“What is it?” Braizen asks worriedly and starts towards me.

I snatch some of the hanging garments and spin around.

“Clothes! For men and women!” I say through tears of joy.

His nostrils flare, but then he smiles.

“I call the dress,” he says.

Some of the jams and preserves are still edible. I take one of the two spoons from the kitchen and pass the other and a jar to Braizen, who looks even more tired after dressing himself in the clothes we found.

He grabs the spoon and begins shoveling jam into his mouth. His blue eyes light up, and he licks his lips. “This is delicious,” he declares. His spoon dives back into the jar.

I take a spoonful from another, and the flavor of peach erupts over my tongue. He’s right; this is wonderful. I try not to spill any on the old white dress I’m now wearing. I finish my jar and clasp my belly, satisfied.

“We need to find you some kind of ointment,” I say, surveying his arm. The blood has crusted over, and it’s still a grotesque sight. “Do you know anything about plants?”

“Oh, sure. Baellileans are known botanists,” he answers, flinging his spoon to the ground.

“Truly?”

“No, of course not. I don’t know one damn thing about them. I’m a bird man, remember?”

I huff a rude breath and search the cottage: every drawer, every nook, and cranny. There’s nothing.

“We need to go,” Braizen says as he stands. He stumbles and grimaces.

“Not till I find something that can help you.”

“Idalia, there’s nothing here,” he sighs. “And even if we find tonics, they’ll probably be so old they’d do me more harm than good.”

“I don’t care. We aren’t leaving till we find something.” I scramble around the room and begin to open old books; dust rises as I flip through their pages.

“Sparrow…”

“No!” I yell and open drawers for the second time. “Leave without me if you want, but I won’t go. You’ll die before we reach Aeradian, and you know it.”

“Wouldn’t that make you happy?”

“That’s not funny,” I say, my face beating with heat. “None of your jokes are.”

He hangs his head with a grin, then drops onto a chair. “Last night,” Braizen begins as I rip apart the cottage like a madwoman. “You said Lorna would be okay because you saw it. What did you mean?”