Cavra, and convince her to help us.
To be fair, I hadn’t caught a scent of deceit or treachery from the witch.
But while she seemed benign, the casual, practically offhanded way she
talked about making a pact with a sinister being of unknown power and intent
didn’t bode well. But the clock was ticking, and we had to stop Kahanov
before he put any more werewolves to sleep.
But I wasn’t a fool. Rather than put our fate entirely in the witch’s hands,
I’d called Neve, who’d headed our way instantly and was standing watch
outside the tent. In the event that Savannah and I didn’t wake up, I trusted
Neve to do what it took to extract an antidote from the witch.
Sorsha stepped into the sweat lodge carrying a brass tea kettle. She took a
seat across from us and poured steaming brown liquid into a pair of terracotta
cups. I watched her hands suspiciously as she pinched a variety of herb
bundles that were strewn across the ground beside her and sprinkled them
into the cups, swishing them carefully.
Finally, she reached over the baking stone pit and handed Savannah and
me each a cup with a smile. “Drink this and relax. The brew will work
quickly, so clear your mind and prepare yourself.”
The brew smelled godawful and was likely laced with mushrooms or
peyote or something worse.
Savannah sniffed her cup and wrinkled her nose. “Will we just wake up
in the Dreamlands? How will we find Cavra?”
Sorsha smiled. “It’s sort of like that. Your bodies will stay here while
your souls travel there. I’ll guide you through your dreams so that you’ll
arrive in the Vale. Once you’re there, make your intentions clear, and Cavra
will find you. Navigating the Dreamlands is more about your intent than
geography.”
Whatever that meant.
Savannah glanced at me. I could smell her trepidation, and I saw a
momentary flicker of doubt in her eyes. But just when I thought she was