Page 122 of A Wolf in the Garden

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“Can you sense it? It’s dormant, but it’s there.”

I take the dwarf sunflower seed from Lylia’s palm, holding it between my thumb and index finger. “I can.” We’d decided this morning that my garden would be a great place to continue my crash course in fae magic, given the fact that I do lean so heavily towards plant life. While everyone else is getting on with the clean up job, I’ve been listening to a lecture on the basic rules of magic for the past hour, and now we’re finally getting into the practical side of things.

I can sense the tiny spark that I need to trigger within the seed, and feed that my magic, yelping as it seems to explode in my hand, going from nothing to a fully fledged plant in an instant, four sets of leaves and a decent root structure suddenly sitting in my palm.

“Everything okay?” Van calls, and I glance up. He’s over by my tiny house with Kaito, tape measure in hand, trying to work out if there’s a way to move the small building off the land without destroying half the garden. If we can get the tiny house back onto the road, we can tow it to Lost Moon, where there’s room for it to sit next to the house as my personal office space. If we can’t move it — and I don’t think we can, not without removing half of the raised garden beds I’ve built — it doesn’t matter. It’s only that I’m really attached to the space, having renovated it myself, and I have plans for this garden that don’t involveneedingthe tiny house onsite.

I can see the frown on Van’s face from here. “I’m fine!” I yell back. Beside me, Lylia laughs softly.

“That was a little too much magic. You only need the slightest touch to start a seed off. Here, try again with this one. Pay attention to each part of the seed; you understand the science of plants, now I want you to apply that scientific knowledge alongside your magic craft.”

“Okay.” I slow my breathing, staring at the seed but no longer seeing it with my eyes, instead sensing the potential of it. I feed it the smallest amount of magic that I’m capable of doling out; the slowest trickle of energy. This time I can feel that first radicle as it sprouts, turning into tiny roots, the first shoot emerging as the taproot grows, seeking as if to dig itself deep into soil, the hypocotyl bursting forward in the opposite direction, the cotyledon opening, and then the first true leaves. The germination process should take days, possibly weeks, but takes mere seconds beneath my touch.

“Very good,” Lylia praises. “You’re a fast learner. Let’s plant a few seeds and you can speed up their growth — be intentional about it; pick the plants you actually want in your garden. I want to see how far you can take them, so let’s see if you can push a seed right through to maturity.”

There’s gaps in the garden beds where I’ve had to tear out crushed or completely snapped off plants. “Here,” I mutter, more to myself than anyone else. “We’ll replace the broken zucchini with a new one.” I plant the seed as usual, only vaguely aware of Lylia peering over my shoulder as I find that spark once more, and out bursts the first shoot, cotyledon unfolding.

“Keep going,” Lylia encourages.

I feed it more magic, the stem of the zucchini stretching, thickening into a stout vine, flower buds forming along its length, ready to burst open. Just a touch more magic and they do open, first two male flowers, then a female. I pick one of the males, pulling back the petals so I can dust the pollen-covered stamen over the female. “Might as well help it along,” I shrug, explaining to Lylia. “Sometimes the bees miss them, and then the immature fruit dies.”

She nods, yellow eyes blinking back sudden tears. “My mother used to do the same thing. I haven’t seen anyone do that in over two hundred years.” She clears her throat, tucking her black hair behind her ear. She’s in full glamour today, and looks like any other young wolf. “I’m going to go get a drink. You keep going.”

I watch her head into the house, still trying to wrap myself around how someone who looks twenty can actually be three hundred and five. The pilates athleisure look doesn’t help. Maeve admitted last night that someone had shown them some local influencers when they’d been researching how to blend in, and that’s how they’d chosen their outfits — based off some cookie-cutter minor New Zealand celebrities and their gifted activewear social media posts. I can’t judge their research; I don’t know anything about First Realm culture, and I’d be just as lost if I had to go through and live there tomorrow.

I move onto the next packet of seeds without Lylia, ignoring the others around me. Lacey’s boys have been collecting sticks into piles, though I don’t know how helpful they’ve truly been, and Weston has been clearing all the large branches, adding them to the mountain of garden waste at the back of the property. Everyone else has been weeding, harvesting, sorting, and throwing any unsalvageable fruit and veg to the chickens or adding it to the compost pile.

I get lost in my work, barely noticing the weight of my antlers settling on my head, nor the trail of blossoms I leave on the ground as I move about. My eyes are glowing again — I can tell from the way it is reflected on the surface of leaves and flowers as I lean over plants — and as I work my way across the garden space, up onto the small hill adjacent to the side of the house, I see my shadowy reflection in the window next to me.

She is beautiful, is my first thought, seeing the blossom-covered antlers and the shining green eyes.Youare beautiful.

I am not human, not fully. I cross to the other side of the garden, and my vision grows blurry as I bend to plant the next seeds — a mixed lot of heirloom tomatoes — my tears falling on the leaves that burst forth. I feed them more magic,more, more, more,until they stand almost as tall as me, trusses filled with yellow flowers blooming, just waiting to be pollinated by the bees that will visit today. We’ll be up to our ears in tomatoes, in pumpkins, in lettuce and spinach and kale and spaghetti squash. I still have more seeds, and I tear open new packets, bending, pressing, planting, growing new life, until I am surrounded by the lush greenery of my own creation, sobbing, because itisbeautiful, because out of this terrifying magic comes beautiful things and beautiful moments. I am not human, not fully. I never was, and that’s okay. It’s more than okay.You can take up space. You can be that little bit of fae, and justbe.

Van’s arms come around me, holding me tight, and I press my face to his chest, laughing through tears as he ducks his head out of the way of my antlers. We stay like that for a long time, until my tears have dried and the sun has warmed my back. I could stay in his arms like this forever. After all, it’s my favourite place in the world.

* * *

My feet hang over the edge of the small wooden deck as I stare out at my garden, lit up with the gold evening light. Soft footsteps sound behind me, and a moment later a steaming cup of tea appears in front of my face.

“Thank you,” I say appreciatively, taking the mug from Lylia’s outstretched hand. Beside me, Van tenses, and when I look he’s glaring at the drink.

“There’s nothing weird in there, right? The last time a witch gave her tea I had to carry her to the car.”

Lylia rolls her eyes, taking a seat on my other side. “It’s straight lemon balm, surely you can smell that. Ellie, how are you feeling?”

I take a tentative sip, relaxing when it doesn’t burn my tongue. “Good. Better, thank you.” After my little meltdown in the garden, I’d suddenly needed a nap, and had barely been able to keep my eyes open by the time Van was carrying me through the doorway of my house, depositing me on the couch with a whispered,“Sleep, baby.”When I woke, everyone but Van and Lylia were gone.

A bee flies past, landing momentarily on Lylia’s arm, and she smiles, gesturing to it. “I always wonder if they can tell what we really are.” She watches it for a moment as it flies off. “Your tolerance for using magic will get better over time, Ellie, but until then, it’s better to not push yourself to that limit. I intentionally let you go that far with it today, because you don’t know where your own limit lies until you reach it, in terms of expending energy.”

I nod, processing her words as I take another sip of tea, the slightly bitter taste less lemony than the scent. “Is that my limit, in terms of abilities?” I ask after a moment. I’m curious about her answer.

“Is that what you’re thinking?” she fires back, eyebrows raised in question. I grin, and take another slow sip.

“I was wondering if you were going to do that. Turn the question back on me.”

“Well, you’re the only one who can answer it. And I think you already know the answer.”

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