“Watch.” She drew her finger back, and the water followed, spiraling around the tip in a miniature whirlpool that extended, impossibly, even after she lifted her hand clear. The swirl widened, the current bending around the stones, then straightened and set the branch free. It drifted, lazily, perfectly, right off the rock and into the heart of the stream.
Nola wiped her hand on her tunic and met Alina’s eyes. “Your Gift is not separate from you,” she said. “Nor is it separate from the world around you. You don’t tell the water what to do. You are the water.”
For the first time, the Gift made sense. The way Nola explained it felt right and natural. Alina looked back at the stream, at the stones, at the floating branch and the water. Nola got up, broke a branch from a nearby bush and placed it between the rocks in the stream. She looked at Alina encouragingly. Alina inhaled deeply, let out the breath in a whoosh and settled herself for another try. This time she tried not focusing on the branch, but on the way the water moved around it—the dip, the swirl, the gentle pull of the current. She felt inside her body for the currents of her own, acknowledging the element inside her. She felt the ebbs and flows of her blood through her veins, the swirling of it as it was pumped through her system. She imagined herself being the stream, feeling all the movement, the eddies and whirls, the jumpof the little waves, the fluttering and gurgling. She pictured herself as the stream rising to meet the branch, lifting it, nudging it and finally, setting it free. She opened her eyes in time to see the branch tumbling down the stream, gone in an instant.
Dumbfounded, she stared after it. She hadn’t even deliberately called on the Gift. She had just felt inside her body. This… this was a revelation. It was so easy. Nothing about it felt wrong or difficult or strenuous. All her training sessions before now had left her trembling and exhausted, spent by the effort. Tamsin and Elara had always made her feel inadequate, not enough. Had they even understood the Gift? Did they know what it was and how to handle it? Because it sure as hell didn’t seem so.
Anger sparked. Alina could not help but think of the time she had nearly killed herself under their instruction, desperate to prove herself capable. Unconsciously, her hand went to her shoulder and the black tattoo of her burn marks. It did not have to have been like this—she never had to suffer in the first place. She looked at Nola and saw her smile.
“What’s done is done. The past is gone, like that branch. Free yourself from it and focus on what is important. Focus on what is good for you.”
Could that woman read her thoughts? Her anger popped, a bubble bursting, and she deflated.
“Let’s sit for a while,” Nola announced and started in the direction of one of the beautiful trees. Alina followed and they sat down under it, leaning against the trunk, bathed in that sun-dappled green half-shadow. They sat in companionable silence for a little while, and Alina felt herself become sleepy. A pleasant haziness descended slowly on her and she yawned heartily. Nola nodded. “Yes, you could do with some sleep.” She touched Alina’sleg and said “Rest.” Before Alina could say anything, she felt herself melting against the trunk and into the grass, a blissful, gentle, and caring heaviness expanding through her body. Feeling protected and cared for by Nola, her eyes drifted shut. She went under in a moment, content and completely relaxed.
When she woke, she didn’t know how much time had passed, but it could not have been much because it was still day. Apparently, it didn’t matter anyway, Nola was still sitting beside her, greeting her with a warm “Welcome back” and handed her a flask and an apple. Thus strengthened, they proceeded to the next lesson.
A short distance away, saplings clustered in the meadow. They were rather small, each one with only a few branches, but they were full of leaves and had some tiny buds on them, tightly closed and still far from blooming. Nola told Alina to choose one and so they went over for her to make her selection.
Alina circled the grove, touching this tree and then the next, running her hand over rough bark and smooth leaves. Finally, she chose the one that looked the most fragile and would therefore be the easiest to bend to her will. She knew she was a coward, but she did not have the confidence for more. She stood in front of the little pathetic tree, waiting for Nola’s instruction.
“Make it bloom,” Nola said.
Alina closed her eyes. She didn’t know what in her body could resemble a tree. Where in herself could she find bark or leaves or petals? She found the Gift instead and let it seep up from her core into her hands. She pictured one of the buds, the way it was curled tight against the cold, and tried to imagine what it would feel like to be that small, that hidden. She coaxed the energy out throughher fingertips, willing the bud to open, imagining she was the sun spending warmth and light and life.
The bud opened a little. The petals swelled and shifted, a hint of color showing at the seam. A memory, sharp and sudden, flashed in her mind: Elara shaking her head in disappointment, Tamsin’s eyes narrowing in judgment. Shame burned through her, and the Gift recoiled. The bud withered, the color draining away. The branch drooped.
Alina’s hands curled into fists. “I can’t—”
“You can,” Nola soothed. She stepped behind Alina, set her hands soft and warm on her shoulders, and held her there, steady and unyielding. Her proximity radiated calmness and contentment. The scent of lavender enveloped her. Alina relaxed a little.
“Your past does not define what you can become,” Nola said quietly. “It only makes you stubborn.”
Alina wanted to snap back, to argue, but Nola’s grip was solid as the ground beneath them. “Breathe,” she said. Alina breathed. “Now let it go.” She tried to. She could not. “Breathe,” Nola said again. She breathed. “Now let it go.” She tried again, she really tried. But she just could not get rid of the images, of the shame and the humiliation. Her throat constricted.
Over and over, Nola told her to breathe and to let it go, always in the same open, friendly manner.
Try as she might, Alina could not get rid of the images. They swirled in her mind, one after the other, and each one more hurting than the last. Frustration, pain and shame welled up and with them tears. They stung her eyes, and her breath hitched, but she fought them back. She pressed down the emotions, forced herself to breathe, willed her eyes dry. She did not want to disappointNola, didn’t want to be weak and small. She was supposed to be strong and capable. Controlled. Dignified. Composed.
But Nola squeezed her shoulders gently and Alina could hear the smile in her voice as she said: “Alina, you are almost there. Now let it go.” And finally, finally, Alina understood and she let all of it go. Tears started to flow, coming hot and fast. They flowed and flowed out of her from a seemingly unending well and with them all of the humiliation, the shame, the feeling of inadequacy, the fear of failing. The pain, the grief, the longing, the jealousy, the loneliness, the anxiety—it all cascaded out of her. She cried and cried for a long time, Nola simply holding her, not saying anything, just bestowing warmth and steadiness on her.
At long last, the tears subsided. Alina sniffled, feeling so much lighter than she had ever before. Like boulders had been lifted from her.
“Try again,” Nola said, her smile steady and encouraging.
She did, this time not reaching for the memory of Elara or Tamsin, but for the root of herself—the part that was still a child, still fascinated by the way things grew and changed. She reached for her sturdiness like the bark of a tree, for her connection to the earth, like its roots. She reached for her flexibility that let her bend like a tree in the wind, yet not break and for the love that had blossomed in those few precious days with Kael. She felt for the essence of the tree in herself and pictured the bud to open. It trembled, then unfurled, pale cream petals peeling back to reveal a heart of vivid gold. The branch straightened. The whole sapling seemed to shiver with pride.
Over the next days, Nola and Alina wandered the countryside to explore and train Alina’s Gift: a pile of stones to be sorted and stacked without using hands; a flock of birds to be called down from the sky and sent away again; a patch of moss to be coaxed into growing over a blank piece of stone. Each task was small, almost trivial, but together they built something in her—steadiness, confidence, and a sense of self she’d never had before. A new contentment came over her, and she started to feel at one with the world. She knew there were still things left untouched in a dark corner of her soul, old injuries, unfulfilled hopes, dreams and desires, appreciation never received. But they were losing their edge, slowly drifting into insignificance.
She could feel the difference at night, lying in bed with the window open to the night sky. The mild summer air—how was it summer here, when she had just fought a winter storm?—wafted in, caressing her face, the stars twinkling companionably down to her. Her dreams no longer dragged her through mud and fire and blood. Instead, they came soft, full of light and motion, the memory of hands guiding her, of gifts given and returned.
Her reflection in the mirror had changed, too. The bruises had faded. Her eyes were clear. There was a radiance about her that had never been there before. The burn mark tattoo was there, and would be forever, but now felt a part of her. The robe Nola had given her still felt strange on her skin, but it was beginning to fit.
On the morning of the eighth day, Nola knocked and entered, as she had done every day now. She handed Alina a bowl of porridge that she had brought with her, sat down at the table and gestured for Alina to join her. “You have come far, my dear,” she said. “Just as I knew you would. Tomorrow, you will conclude your training with a final task—a trial, you might say. Today, yourest, you enjoy. There is a gathering this evening in the village square. You are more than welcome to join.”
Alina nodded. She studied the older woman for a moment.
“Can I ask you something?”
