Free A Nomadic Witch (A Modern Witch Series: Book 4) by Debora Geary Page B

careful whiff would likely end up locked in Moira’s kitchen until they could.
    Lizzie had been smart enough to focus on herbal crumbles.
    She looked up from the table, the last mysterious sample still rolling in her fingers.  “Lady’s mantle?  It doesn’t smell like that, really—more like moldy chamomile, but it vibrates like lady’s mantle.  Maybe a little slower, though.”
    It had taken Sophie ten years of hard practice to pick up plant vibrations.  Lizzie and Ginia both did it with ease.  Nothing like a couple of witchlings to keep you humble.  “Those are good clues.  It’s tricky when your fingers and your nose are telling you something different.  Your job is to figure out which one to trust.”
    Her pupil frowned.  “Can I taste it?”
    Always an alternative fraught with risk.  “What do you think?”
    “Well, if it’s feverfew, then tasting it would be fine.  But if it’s lady’s mantle, then it will taste like oyster poo and make me burp for three days.”
    Sophie hid a grin—oyster poo was a particularly apt description.  “Well, if you had a patient to dose and you weren’t sure if you had the right herb, what would you do?”
    “Protect the patient.”  The answer came quickly—healer ethics weren’t Lizzie’s problem.  “So I guess I’d have to taste it.  Or give some to Sean, because he deserves three days of burps.”
    Well, maybe her trainee’s ethics still had the occasional hiccup.  “What did he do now?”  There was always something—Sean breathed trouble.
    “He said only girls have babies, so it must be really easy.”  Lizzie’s eyes held mutiny now.  “I told him that boys would be too scaredy to push out a baby.  Except for maybe Uncle Aaron—he’s really brave.”
    Aaron had earned a ton of respect during the twins’ birth.  Little Aislin had arrived weak and blue and he’d willed life into her, one slow breath at a time. 
    It had taken Sophie a week to help Lizzie understand why none of the healers in the room had intervened.  What any of them could have done with one finger had taken every ounce of Aaron’s love and will—and that had been the right choice.
    Learning when not to use magic was one of the harder lessons of being a witch.
    “One day Sean will learn how wrong he is.”  Sophie bent down to kiss Lizzie’s head—and made a mental note to have a chat with their misguided troublemaker.  “And being a daddy isn’t an easy job either.”  She touched the mystery herb—gently.  She didn’t want burps.  “Do you have it figured out yet?”
    “It’s lady’s mantle.”  Lizzie sounded more definite now.  “Ginia said feverfew feels slimy if you listen to it for long enough.  This one’s not slimy.”  She looked entirely relieved to have avoided oyster poo.
    Sophie was duly impressed—it was an old jar, and crumbled well beyond visual recognition.  “It’s time to replace it anyhow.  We can do some moon harvesting—tomorrow night’s the right timing.”
    Staying up late was still a serious treat for a six-year-old girl.  Freed from lessons, she hopped around like a dizzy ping-pong ball.  “Can Ginia come?”
    Lizzie, an only child, adored her fellow healer trainee.  Sophie blessed the technology that let two girls on opposite sides of the continent gather at will.  Healing was often a very lonely craft.  “Of course.  We’ll do a moon circle first.”
    “I’ll go tell Gran.”  Small feet dashed for the door and then skidded to a halt.  Lizzie turned, face scrunched up.  “So, is Uncle Marcus Morgan’s mommy now?”
    Almost a year back in Fisher’s Cove, and Sophie still wasn’t used to the lightning changes in topic that came with being six.  “He’s taking care of Morgan for a while.”
    “Like a mommy.”  Lizzie’s eyes brightened.
    Apparently Sean wasn’t the only witchling with some gender prejudices.  “Aaron and Mike both take care of babies.  It’s not just a mommy’s