"That fits," Flogga said with a short nod, her eyes never leaving the bubbling mixture as she continued to stir with slow, steady strokes. "She says her skill lets her identify herbs, roots, and fungi. She knows which ones are poisonous, which ones heal, and which ones are just useless weeds."
"Oh?" I let out a small gasp. "That’s actually perfect for you."
"It is." Flogga’s mouth tugged downward into sothing between a frown and approval. "One thing hate the most is searching the forest for these things. So it helps to have her with ."
She jabbed the spoon a little harder into the mixture, sending a puff of sour steam into the air.
"Thok used to help do this," she continued, shaking her head. "But he’s been distracted lately, swinging that blade every chance he gets. And he terrible at it. He doesn’t listen properly. Always bringing useless weeds and the wrong things."
She let out a harsh sigh.
"He be raising my BP."
I couldn’t help it—laughter slipped out of imdiately.
BP.
Blood pressure.
For so reason, hearing an old goblin complain about her blood pressure was... hilarious. I had to bite back another laugh, but a grin stayed on my face.
"Then you must be glad you have soone so efficient," I said.
"Of course," Flogga replied without hesitation. "She said she used to work for their forr chief shaman, but he abused her. One ti he almost beat her to death for correcting him."
Another story about Marcus.
Another reminder of how cruel he had been.
That goblin wasn’t just vile—he was stupid.
To have soone with a rare talent like Herbseer and treat her like trash... it showed exactly what kind of leader he was.
Flogga kept stirring, the thick mixture rolling like mud under her spoon.
"I told her that will not happen with ," she continued. "I told her she can correct if she sees a mistake. I make mistakes many tis, wasting ingredients, which is horrible. So I want to avoid that. Less stress, more efficiency."
She shook her head once, as if rembering so particularly painful waste.
"I also told her she can learn alchemy from watching ," Flogga added. "And the girl fell to her knees begging to accept her. That is what I wanted, so I accepted."
I chuckled softly.
"That was nice of you."
Flogga snorted.
"I can be cruel too, but I reserve that for enemies."
Good.
That was exactly the kind of cruelty I wanted in my clan—aid outward, never inward.
She stirred the cauldron a few more tis, then added in a matter-of-fact tone:
"Also, since I’m getting old soon and can die any mont, I need soone to pass my knowledge to. Zarah isn’t interested in alchemy, so..."
My smile faded.
Sothing in tightened at those words. I didn’t like hearing her talk about death—not hers, not anyone’s. It hit in a place that surprised .
I frowned.
"Are you foreshadowing your death?"
She shook her head imdiately.
"No foreshadowing here, young totem. It is just fact." She tapped her spoon lightly against the rim of the cauldron. "Old bones do not last forever."
I swallowed once, the heaviness settling deeper than I expected.
She said it casually. But for , it felt wrong. I didn’t want to imagine the clans without her in it. I didn’t want to imagine the clan without her scolding, complaining, or advising.
I didn’t know what bothered more—the truth of it, or how calmly she accepted it.
Flogga kept stirring, as if she hadn’t just tossed a stone into my chest.
"Do not make that face," she muttered without looking at . "Death cos for all. But before it cos for , I will make sure this clan has soone who can brew, heal, and blow things up properly."
She went on, tone steady. "I’ll either die of old age or die sacrificing myself...but if you ask which I preffered I’d say the latter. This old goblin wants to pass away with a bang."
"What do you an old?" I snapped before I could stop myself. "You’re still young."
Flogga burst into laughter—deep, crackly, amused.
"Young? With this wrinkly face?" she said, tapping her cheek with the back of her spoon.
I exhaled slowly.
A wave of guilt washed over as I looked at her.
I rembered the first ti I t her, how I’d jokingly thought she looked ugly.
I hadn’t known anything then.
It wasn’t sothing to mock. It was simply age—ti etched into her skin after years of living, surviving, creating.
And she carried it with pride.
"That’s right," I said quietly. "Your face is wrinkly... but you’re still young. You’re vibrant, energetic, and you have a good soul. Losing you would be one of the saddest monts of my life."
My voice ca out softer than I intended, honest in a way that caught even off guard.
"If I’m being honest," I added, "I’m definitely going to cry when you go."
Flogga’s stirring slowed.
Then stopped.
She turned her head, just slightly, enough for to see her expression shift—surprise, confusion, sothing fragile beneath it that she wasn’t used to feeling.
Then she finally turned back to her cauldron, resud stirring with that slow, practiced rhythm, and said with a wide, toothy grin:
"Why make things so heavy, young totem? I said I might die soon, but soon to is the next fifty years or so. Don’t worry, I’m not leaving anyti soon."
I felt my shoulders loosen a bit, and I let out a breath I didn’t even know I’d been holding.
"I hope so," I murmured.
Flogga gave a small hum of amusent as she reached forward, gripped the cauldron’s heavy rim through a thick cloth, and slid it off the fire so it stopped bubbling. Steam drifted up, curling around her like mist.
I watched her work for a mont.
Her movents were steady despite her age, her eyes sharp, her hands sure.
Fifty years, huh.
If anyone could bully death into waiting, it would be her.
Once the cauldron settled on the flat stone, I leaned forward a little, unable to contain my curiosity any longer.
"Flogga," I said, "have you by any chance created any new potions?"
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