Lion Head Mesa no more listless invitations

They are, she told Nazli gravely. She found the younger wolf's gaze, serious. Wrap them in a leaf—keep them from your tongue. They will affect you otherwise.

She felt bad; she didn't mean to put such an errand on a girl. Even if she'd been a girl when she had learned the magic of poppies.

It was a dark magic. She wouldn't put it on Nazli.

Be careful, she whispered as the fellahin left, letting her cheek fall upon the stone floor, wearied.