Sentinel Green 2.1

Wisteria 2.1

I run. I don’t stop running until I’m three blocks up and one block over from my house, over near the park that feeds over into the middle school. It occurs to me, dimly, that I should be way more out of breath than I am, but I just wrenched the dent out of my car door, so I guess improved cardio isn’t such a shocker. I take the steps to the park four at a time and scramble behind a large tree, then sink to the ground with my buckles tearing up the bark behind me as I slide.

I’m surprised I don’t feel the tree’s pain or anything super nature-lover like that. I have no idea what the scope of these new abilities are, and I can only hope that, as I put more and more distance between myself and Victor, who was clearly labelled a threat to my new powers, that the range wore off and the plants stopped going haywire.

I put my hand down on the grass and at once the little green tendrils start to react. They grow and curl up around my fingers, like dozens of little arms reaching to hug me, and I stare down at them, distantly perplexed but still too raw from the shock and sorrow of my encounter with Victor to feel anything else too deeply.

He had put real force behind his hit, but I’d barely felt it. My body had moved a little with the momentum of his strike, but… I lift my free hand and press my fingertips into my jaw. Nothing. No pain. It was like getting beamed with a lightly-tossed apple. Shocking, maybe dimly annoying for a second, but then something I could forget a moment later.

“I’m sorry,” a gentle voice says, interrupting my thoughts, and I only jerk a little as I look up and spot the moth. It’s a paler brown now, closer to an ashy gray, and I glance around to see if anyone is here who might be able to see it--but it’s truly the middle of the night now and we’re alone in this park.

“For what,” I ask, dully. “You’re not the one who turned me into this.”

“I mean I’m sorry for what happened with your family. It’s not… easy, for humans to understand what we are. Often times they mentally reject it.”

I’m not sure punching me in the face and being attacked by all of the houseplants in the vicinity is Victor’s method of rationalization, but I don’t say anything. Instead I look down at the grass, which is growing up my wrist now, and sigh before gently extricating myself from it.

My phone buzzes and I pick it up to swipe and unlock the screen at once. It’s a text from Mina.

Ash, where are you? come home please

My chest ignites with longing and fire, and I close my eyes and lower my head over the device. It doesn’t take a telepathic insect to read my posture accurately, and the moth whispers, “I wouldn’t answer her if I were you. It will only make this harder in the long run.”

This patron is so gentle and understanding, though it--she? I’m getting a ‘she’ vibe--had been kind of a bitch to Puchuu, which I approved of wholeheartedly. At least one part of me is the same, I think dismally as I fight back a burning in my throat. When people are kind to me during my lowest moments, all it makes me want to do is cry.

“What can I call you?” I ask, finally, realizing I’ve been referring to this creature as “the moth” in my head for too long. Puchuu probably has a name, but I don’t care about him--her, it--whereas I find myself actually wanting to learn this one’s true name.

“I go by many names, but what I am is a culmination of the spirits of the woods, which is why I can come to you as different forms.” Soft, green light engulfs the moth and a moment later a plump but beautiful, matronly woman stands barefoot in the park with me. Her hair is wild and curly, an earthy brown that falls in messy waves over her dark shoulders, and her eyes, which I had thought would be green, are instead a deep, warm chocolate brown. Her arms bear vine-like tattoo markings and she’s dressed in a simple white tunic that accentuates her curves. She looks to be pregnant--the “earth mother” image couldn’t be more spot-on. “What name calls to you?” she asks, her voice low and husky.

“Um.” Is she giving me the option to name her? “Gaia?” I try. That’s the only earth-goddess name I can cook up off the top of my head.

“I do go by that name,” she says, chuckling softly and giving me a bright, warm smile. She makes me feel young and vulnerable, like I want to curl up at her feet and take a nap while she watches over me. I wonder if this is some power she’s exerting over me, or if she just has that effect on people. “If you need to, you can call me that.”

If I need to? Maybe names are past the point of requirement for something so otherworldly. I nod and fiddle with a vial on my chest strap, and she peers down at it.

“What are those?” she asks, and I frown at her. There’s no way an earth patron wouldn’t know that these are…

“Atropa belladonna seeds,” I supply with ease. What?

“And those?”

“I don’t--castor beans,” I say again, with the same kind of confidence I might answer ‘What’s 2+2?’

“Good job,” Gaia says, smiling like she has a secret, which finally clues me in. “It comes with the territory. There’s not a single species of flora that you won’t be able to identify from now on. And it appears you’re outfitted with some useful little ones.”

For the next half hour she quizzes me, and I answer like a star pupil, pointing out entada gigas liana sprouts that can grow into strong, whipping vines, or mala mujer, a plant so sharp and spindly it can be fashioned into makeshift barbed wire.

I come across something that isn’t a bottle of seeds or a sample of vine near my hip, and unlatch it, frowning down at the strange relic. It sort of reminds me of something Sailor Moon might carry--it’s green and white, but that’s about where the subtlety ends. It’s a heart with carved wings sprouting from it and a gem set in the center, complete with a diamond-shaped vial of some kind of crystal-clear liquid extending from the bottom of the heart’s point.

“I have no idea what this is,” I tell Gaia, half-expecting to be able to identify the substance in the vial as some kind of deadly plant-based toxin.

“Ah,” she says, nodding. “That’s because this is different. It might come in handy at some point, but for now--just hold onto it.”

She looks away, and I can already tell she’s going to be leaving soon. Being a patron must be a lot of work. She seems to intuitively know that I know, and turns back to me, smiling sympathetically. “If you want your vehicle, I’d get it sooner than later. But my suggestion? Drive it somewhere safe and get some sleep. You’ll need it.”

That seems ominous, but I just nod. Whether she meant for it to or not, the quizzing and learning session made me feel better--it was distracting, which I needed after that nightmare with Victor and Mina, and it provided me some answers. Gaia gives me a last, kind smile before she winks out of my field of vision, leaving nothing but a fluttering handful of leaves in her wake. I sigh before I get up and dust off my ridiculous--but apparently very utilitarian--outfit. I still have my Neon’s keys. I suppose it’s time to go take care of that.

The walk back to my house doesn’t take more than a minute, but I creep as carefully as I can in case Victor’s already called the cops. But it looks like they haven’t, yet--his truck is gone, so they must be out making a drive to look for me. The house is eerily quiet from the outside. Before I can chicken out or gather too much attention, I slip into the Neon, the door still ajar, and pray that it didn’t decide to die while I was gone. It turns over and I pull away fast, but not too fast, winding my way through the valley to get to the highway.

I don’t know where I’m going. Nothing seems to occur to me as the perfect place to park this wreck while I sleep. I end up driving to my childhood home, then passing it and winding farther back into that valley. It’s a quiet little street, and I know I run the risk of alarming people with the state of my car, but it’s better than parking it in some lot where it’s sure to draw attention from the higher foot traffic.

I put the car in park and engage the e-brake, then slump over on the steering wheel. Gaia was right--I’m exhausted. I barely have enough energy to concentrate on my studio apartment and hop myself into it before I crash out.