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Marrow and Marigold
fantasy◐ Mature5 contributors · 4 paragraphs deep
Veska followed the bodies backward. All eleven silent dead had passed through one place before reaching her: the town's free soup kitchen, run by a gentle old healer everyone trusted. She did not want to believe it. But the bones did not lie, and they all pointed to the same kind face.
Veska visited the soup kitchen and ate a bowl herself, slowly, watching. She saw the old healer slip something gray into one customer's portion. Marigold poison. Veska set down her spoon. "You feed the poor and you bury them in my flowers," she said. The healer smiled sadly. "They were going to die anyway. I only chose when." The watch took her before dusk.
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