The healer shook his head in disbelief, staring at the mushrooms as if they'd grown legs. "So… where do you even get these?"
Kaya shrugged. "Guess who? Um… just near the… you know, the riverside where the floats are washed, and where the… dirty…"
The healer's face went a shade redder. "Okay, okay, fine. I understand," he said, though his tone betrayed the horror brewing behind his eyes.
Kaya, oblivious, continued. The place she'd described was where people washed their hands after… well, after relieving themselves. In other words: the latrine riverside. Nobody in their right mind would pick mushrooms there. The healer knew the place existed, of course, but never had he imagined someone else would actually go there… and willingly.
He opened his mouth to ask how she even knew red mushrooms grew there—who in their right mind would associate a latrine with poisonous mushrooms?—but Kaya beat him to it. She shrugged again and said casually, "I was just walking, and I saw them."
