“I haven’t really been totally forthcoming about the woods behind my house.”
“Nooooo. But you’re always so forthcoming,” Sophie said sarcastically, her eyes twinkling.
“It’s a gift.” Actually, it was a curse, but Cleo didn’t want to kill the mood by pointing out the truth. “I encourage growth, true. I will always have the most potent ingredients whether it’s food or tea. I can hear the song of the green space, and it gives me energy.”
“What’s the green space?” Mari asked.
Cleo considered this. “It’s a collection of all the living things around me. It’s the individual plants and trees and blades of grass. It’s the leaves and the branches and the roots. It’s bigger than me.”
“The Mother,” Agnes said softly.
“Maybe. I don’t know. But since I’ve moved here, it’s been more than just the plants. The woods behind my house - I connect with it. I’m connected to it. It gives me energy. I give it energy.” Cleo paused for a moment. “I’m so connected to it, I don’t think I could leave here. It’s more than just my home. I… belong to the woods, just as much as I belong to it.”
“Huh,” Mari said into the ensuing silence. “That’s pretty cool.”
Cleo barked out a relieved laugh. Mari could start fires with her mind, and yet Cleo was worried about how these people would react.
“Is that why the woods are sort of fucked up? Because you’re fucked up, magically speaking?” Sophie asked.
“How can you tell it’s messed up?”
Sophie bit her lower lip for a moment and raised her nose to the air. She looked so much like a dog sniffing the breeze that Cleo smothered a snicker. “Shut it,” Sophie said under her breath. She opened her eyes and looked frustrated. “There are currents everywhere, all the time. How we interact with those currents affect them. So I can read the wind and know who’s here. I know who’s sweating and who’s fidgeting. Usually the woods behind your house just feel like… big damn woods. There’s critters and growing things, and you know, outside stuff.”
“Sophie’s more of a glamper than a camper,” Agnes smirked.
“I’m 100% proud of that.” Sophie’s lashes rested along her cheeks. She held herself perfectly still. “Your woods smell like rot.” She considered her words, and Sophie got more excited as she ramped up her description. “Worse than rot. You know that sour breath smell after eating borscht and onions and shitty beer? No! I got it! You smell like old, bloody, yeasty medical waste garbage mixed with hot kitty litter on a really steamy day.” She drew her breath to keep going, but thankfully Grant chimed in to stop the tirade.
“I see what you mean, Soph,” he said. “Not the, uh, hot litter smell and all that. The earth, it’s more like pressure than smell. But it weighs differently.” His eyes slid to Cleo. “You weigh differently too.”
“Ix-nay on the eight-way,” Mari said from the side of her mouth.
“Thanks Mari, but my weight is on the short list of things I don’t care about,” Cleo said. “What do you mean, Grant?”
Sophie interjected, “I think I see what you mean!”
“Share with the class, children,” Agnes said.
Sophie’s fingers fluttered between the woods and Cleo. “They smell the same - the woods and Cleo. Like, almost exactly the same. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before. But that smell of rot is on you too.” She looked entirely too excited about that fact.
“You’re tied together somehow,” Agnes said. “If we heal the woods, will we heal you? Like a reverse curse-breaking?”
Cleo hadn’t considered that. Damn, Agnes was smart. “I don’t know. I really don’t. I doubt it.” She took another swig of tea. “No, it won’t work.”
“Is pessimism a habit or just a hobby for you?” Agnes asked.
“Neither. I’ve gotten hit in the back of the head by the lead pipe of Life enough times to know when I should duck.”
“Is that why Ian’s not here? You’re ducking out on him?” Mari asked suddenly.
Instead of kicking them out of her house with extreme prejudice, Cleo pasted on a smile. It felt more like a baring of teeth. “Let’s stick to the topic at hand.”
Agnes thoughtfully wound one of her spiral curls around her finger, pulled it down slightly, and watched it spring back up. “I think this is relevant, too, actually.” She wound another curl around her finger, tighter this time, and narrowed her eyes as she looked into the middle distance.
Mari wasn’t intimidated by Cleo’s flat stare. Cleo would have to work on that. “When he was here, I think it added an element. Maybe this is a dumb question, but do shifters have magic?”
Grant made a so-so gesture, tipping his hand side to side. “Ian was the first shifter I’ve ever met. He definitely had something wyrd.”
“Did that come from your earth affinity?” Mari asked, curious.
“When we’re doing a ritual, the earth vibrates, just slightly. I don’t know if you guys notice it.” They all shook their head in the negative. “Right, that’s just me that feels it. There’s this sense of movement, of things shifting. Ian has that same feeling around him. It’s more erratic than us, I suppose? Less controlled? I’m not sure the reason for it. But there’s definitely something there.”
“What if he didn’t have any magic?” Cleo asked. “Would it still be okay if he was there?”
Agnes’ lips turned down in thought. “Interesting. Kind of a pointless question, if we know that shifters have some sort of wyrd energy. Why do you ask?” She grinned suddenly, as if an answer had just occurred to her.
Cleo was suddenly very interested in the floorboards. She kicked a dust bunny back under her chair.
“We won’t judge you,” Grant said. He was too nice. It made it easier in some ways, worse in others.
“I like him,” Cleo said. The words felt like they were wrenched
