Kelly

Twelve

But I didn't answer him. I just watched as the root from the old tree squeezed him tighter, forcing the air from his lungs in a whoosh. He tried to thrash, but the earth had him. The vines tightened like constrictors, pinning his arms to his sides. He was caught in a trap I hadn't known I could set.

I walked toward him, my steps unhurried. I stopped just in front of him, my face inches from his. His breath came in ragged, panicked gasps. He wasn't smug anymore. He was terrified.

"The earth is patient," I said, my voice a soft whisper that cut through the rustle of leaves. "It can tolerate a lot. But it doesn't like disrespect. I don't like disrespect."

I looked him dead in the eye as the roots began to lift him off the ground. He was scared now, I could see it in his eyes. I could smell it. I could taste it.

"You have spent years trying to make me feel small. Trying to make me feel unwanted." The roots tightened around him again. "I think we are both old enough to put those childish games away now, don't you think?"

He hung there for another heartbeat, suspended by the very ground he disrespected. He was completely powerless. I could feel the power thrumming through me, not a violent rage this time, but a deep, calm certainty. This was my space. These were my plants. This was my magic.

Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it was over. The vines recoiled, sliding back to their warm homes. The root loosened and gently placed him back on the ground. Caleb stumbled, falling to his knees in the disturbed soil of my garden. He gasped for air, his hands scrabbling at the dirt, as if trying to find purchase in a world that had suddenly turned against him.

He stared at me, his face a pale, horrified mask. He didn't say another word. He scrambled to his feet, kicking dirt and torn plants in his haste, and ran. He didn't look back. He just fled, a clumsy, panicked retreat through the trees.

I stood there in the quiet that followed, the only sound the gentle rustle of leaves and the thrum of my own heart. I looked down at my hands. They were just hands. Dirty from working in the soil, but otherwise normal. I looked at my garden. The root had retreated back into the earth, leaving a disturbed patch of ground and I smiled. I had done it.

That night, as I sat in my little cottage, I thought about what had happened. I had always had a connection to plants, to the earth. First it was my Ma who would exclaim that her harvest was more bountiful when I was worked the garden with her and then here, where Marcy would always tell me how much more delicious and juicy my harvest was or how much more vibrant and full my flowers were. My chest warmed with the pride I felt in the earth. It didn't need to answer my call, I think that's what I will call it, but it did. It protected me as I have always tried to protect it.

I thought long and hard about the way my plants grew, the way I could soothe a frightened animal or how I always seemed to know the right herb or tonic or remedy to help plant, animal or person. I had always kept it quiet, not that many people were looking at me close enough to notice in the first place. But today, it had been loud. I had stood my ground. And the earth had answered. I doubted that Caleb would say anything, those that would do something about it wouldn't believe him and those that would protect me weren't the people he would want to tell. I just hoped this would keep him away from me now. I would never understand the depths of his hatred for me that appeared to be based on his Mother's dislike of my father.

***

The next morning, I woke up feeling a strange sense of calm. The sun streamed through the windows of my cottage, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. I made myself a cup of tea and went out into my garden. The air was cool and crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and new growth. I knelt down and examined the patch where Caleb had stood. The soil was still disturbed, but the crushed carrot tops were already starting to perk up, their tiny leaves reaching for the sun. I touched a finger to one of them, and a jolt of energy, warm and familiar, passed from my fingertip into the plant. I watched in awe as it straightened up completely, as strong and vibrant as the ones around it. A small smile touched my lips. This would be my secret.

I spent the next few hours tending to my garden, my movements fluid and sure. I felt a connection to the land that went deeper than it ever had before. If I focused I could feel the life pulsing beneath the soil, like the slow, steady breathing of the forest around me.

Just as I was finishing up, I heard a rustle in the trees. I tensed, my body preparing for another confrontation. But it wasn't Caleb who emerged from the woods. It was Beta Joseph. He was carrying a toolbox, and he had a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Morning, little wolf," he said, his voice soft.

"Beta Joseph," I replied, a little surprised to see him here. I was even more surprised that he didn't smell angry or even concerned. He smelled… proud.

He walked over to me, his eyes scanning the garden. They lingered on the patch of earth where Caleb had been. "I heard you had a visitor yesterday," he said, his tone casual.

I looked down at my hands, suddenly feeling a flicker of the old fear. "He… he was looking for a fight. He was going to destroy my garden; you know how hard I've been working on it."

Beta Joseph nodded slowly. "I know. He came home covered in dirt and leaves, rambling about the trees coming to life. It was quite hard to understand what he was saying. Charlotte, of course, was immediately convinced you had consorted with a witch to mess with his mind and has been demanding you be punished." He sighed, a long, weary sound. "I told her Caleb was likely exaggerating, that he probably tripped and got tangled in some vines and it wasn't something the Alpha would entertain hearing about."

He looked at me, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of something new in his eyes. A glimmer of respect. "But I don't think he was exaggerating, was he?"

My heart hammered against my ribs. This was it. He knew. He was going to send me away. I bit my lip, my throat tight with unshed tears. "I didn't mean to," I whispered, the words barely audible. "It just… happened."

"I know," he said, his voice gentle. He put a hand on my shoulder, and I felt a wave of calm wash over me. "Your mother's grandmother, your great-grandmother, is said to have had a way with water in her day. Not that your grandmother or grandfather believe any of it to be true, but now I see it is likely a family trait. I also wonder if there may have been something in your father's line. It is a powerful thing to connect with the land and harness it. It is not something that has been heard of for many, many generations." He looked around at my flourishing garden, a sad, nostalgic smile on his face. "I only hope that it is not a sign of bad things to come for our pack - or even werewolves as a whole."

The rest of the summer passed in a similar quiet rhythm. Caleb kept his distance, his hatred now mixed with a healthy dose of fear. He would glare at me from across the schoolyard, but he never came near me again. His friends followed his lead, and for the first time since I'd arrived, I felt a sliver of peace at school. It was a truce, enforced by Caleb's fear of what I could do. But he never did tell anyone else what had happened that day. I think his father's dismissal rattled him.

I spent most of my free time at the cottage, tending to my garden and practicing. I learned to focus the energy that flowed through me, to coax a wilting flower back to life or to guide a vine to grow in a specific direction. I also started drawing all my plants, and making them into a book with all the information I could find on them all, what they liked, what they needed. I also worked on learning the medicinal properties of some plants; the danger of others. Quietly keeping note of it all. As the years passed, I began to quietly make a name for myself in the pack for healing remedies and tonics. I wasn't a doctor by a long shot; I was far too young for anything like that. But even Doctor Harris had come and spent many hours with me discussing medicines that the pack regularly needed and if we could have development of that in pack rather than relying on often disrupted shipments and humans.