Meg - Grows Wheat When Anxious

Britomartis chose not to destroy him, though from her expression I could tell she came close. “Tomorrow at first light, search for the entrance.”
“Why not earlier?” Meg asked.
The goddess smirked. “You’re fearless. I respect that. But you must be rested and prepared to meet the emperor’s forces. You need that leg wound tended to. I also suspect it’s been many nights since you’ve had a proper sleep. Besides, the incident at the zoo has the emperor’s security on high alert. Best to let the dust settle. If he catches you, Meg McCaffrey—”
“I know.” She did not sound afraid. Her tone was that of a child who’d been reminded for the fifth time to clean her room. The only sign of Meg’s anxiety: in her hand, her last piece of bread had begun to sprout green tendrils of wheat.

***

The Dark Prophecy, Chapter 18