Daughter cautioned, "They have plans."
"Of course they have plans. We have our own. This is how it's done." Mother grinned, explained, "But we'll know their plans the very moment they do."
"How?"
Mother continued stirring, watching the darkening color, feeling the thickening consistency, drinking in the developing smell, waiting for the parts to become the whole.
"I ask how. I mean no disrespect."
"We have eyes everywhere. In the town, in the wood, in barns and workshops, in their very houses." Mother tasted the end of the spoon. "There, it's ready."
"What if they have eyes as well?"
"They do. Of course, they do. That is also how it's done. Here, drink this." Mother lowered a cup into the brew, lifted it out full to the brim, and held it out to Daughter, who swallowed it in one draught, without question.
"What is it?"
"Poison. For the enemy's eyes."
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