Blackfeather Woods I'm not dead, I'm stuck in Jumanji

She knew that Cicero could use herbs almost, or perhaps as well, as her, and while she didn't know what kind of herbs they were, she knew that poisonous herbs had inflamed the wounds decorating Cicero's body. There were inflammations that only herbs could deliver, with blisters and other sores accompanying them. Those blisters could come from nothing else, not even from the worst attack from a cougar (isittoosoon?) or a bear. That revelation told her more than she thought. Her brother was more than capable of finding test subjects in the woods or beyond. Mother had taught them how to trick others into eating herbs for research, and she had done it herself many a time. Potema's face didn't show her worry, and she ducked her head away to sniff through the herbs again as she thought of why Cicero would hurt himself. But that was a topic for Burke to unravel, right? She was no therapist like him, or mediator like their Mother. Magic and herbs were her realm.

Does Cicero want to escape reality or to just feel pain? She asked quietly, lifting her head up. I know of herbs that can do either, or both at the same time. She herself was fond of hallucinogenic mushrooms, the little fungi helping especially with spells and Sights, though she tried her hardest not to use them too frequently. TRIED.