The other eye, the color of straw, closed so she could focus.Rain trickled down the windowpane of her small bedroom, and she let out a content little sigh. Hibernating in the warm house when the earth crawled with cool mist was one of her favorite things. She leaned back into the closet with the quiet snick of the door closing.Straightening her spine, she worked out the kinks in her back with a deep breath. Spending two hours stooped over a book in a closet barely big enough for her to lengthen her legs was less than ideal, but at least it was private, no easy feat in a family of eight children. With a pinch of her fingers, she extinguished the candle flame and shoved the books on potionmaking away from her.Rosemary twigs. Pecan shells. Simmer on a blue flame. Moonlight for six hours.An extraordinarily difficult potion sat on her mind and had for many days, percolating in the background of her thoughts. No one had ever gotten the Forgotten Potion right, which is exactly why Leda wanted to make it.
