It had taken him most of the morning to find this patch of vervain and it was almost too late. Deglan cast a calculating eye at the sun and then turned his scowl back to the dense purple blooms. This was the best of the lot, he was sure, but he needed to wait a few more moments until the sun was at its most high. He hated waiting, but patience was always needed when time was of the essence. He slung his herb satchel off his shoulder and threw the flap back, removing a roll of fine linen and his water skin. He reached for his small trowel, but paused before his hand grasped the handle.

“Better to do this by hand.”

Deglan leaned carefully forward until his forearms rested on the ground, surrounding the vervain protectively and then slowly stretched his legs out behind him. He lay belly down on the cool ground, his nose almost touching the petals. The sun warmed the bald spot on the back of his head, but he paid it no mind. His eyes were fixed, the right one narrowing and opening convulsively. His nostrils flared as the aroma of the vervain grew with the ascending sun. Deglan’s stubby middle fingers pressed gently into the soil and traced a shallow furrow around the base of the plant. Slowly, he settled the heels of his hands into the furrow and began kneading the dirt. His eyes closed as the deft movements worked his hands deeper into the Earth and he opened his mind to its embrace. There was a moment’s resistance, but Deglan pressed his need, bluntly and humbly. The roots loosened, straightened and slid out of the soil as he cradled the vervain in his cupped hands.

He rose as smoothly as he could manage back up onto his knees and gave a winced curse as his hips popped. He turned the uprooted plant carefully and inspected it for injury. Satisfied, he held it one handed and reached for the linen, wrapping it loosely around the roots. Pulling the plug out of the skin with his teeth, he took a mouthful of water and spit in gently over the bundle. Deglan let the air out of his lungs, then jerked his head skyward and looked again at the sun.

High noon.

“Ha!” Deglan shook his fist at the bright orb. Then again at Bulge-Eye. “Ha-ha! Teach you to tell me my business, it will!” Bulge-Eye blinked lazily.

He gathered up his things and walked briskly over to the toad. His short legs ached and he was grateful he decided to bring Bulge-Eye along. A hike back to the village was not a welcome prospect.

“Wish I had left you behind, you great warty beast! More than likely you will make me crush this plant with all your lurching hops.”