I can feel my face blanch and I look to the group.

They, too, seem disturbed as they notice the grass and begin to share my feelings.

Iren’s head shoots up from looking at the grass.

“Um…” she starts nervously, and I already know what she means to say. I remember it now too.

“Didn’t… I think I said something… weird when I was connected to this grass, didn’t I?” Sparks of realization fly through the group, and Ebony looks at me questioningly.

Worriedly.

“You told your mother about that though, right?” her brown hair shines in the light of the sunset as she tips her body forward, waiting for an answer, and I focused on that as I nod.

“I thought she said she would check it out…” I trail off. Perhaps she had forgotten. We certainly had. The grass crunches beneath my feet as I start walking again, faster, sending the dry smell of dead leaves through the air.

“Are you going to ask her about it?” Wey asks.

His skirt today is as green as the grass should have been, and his footfalls are loud as they, along with three other pairs, hurry after me.

I give a jagged nod, my chin bumping into my hands as they fiddle with my collar buttons.

A memory pops into my head; it had been less than a month since I had known them, but we shared our worries over the village.

Everything they said, as well as what I said, comes rushing back: the holes, the behaviors, the people in town who agreed with us.

That boy.

I vaguely remember how similar he felt to my now familiar uneasiness of my home and mother.

 The trees surrounding the grass, I now realize, have been singing warnings. They were so quiet that I had failed to notice. I increase my speed, and while the feeling of death and uneasiness ebbs, my worry ever increases.

 I have never seen a patch so near the village so dead. How could the witches living around there let it get so? How had my mother forgotten? Had she not understood the severity of the situation? Witches take superb care of the world around them. We keep it company when it needs it, we give it privacy when it wants it, we take care of it when it is ill.

 That grass was far beyond ill.

 Once we arrive at my cottage, I hurriedly tell them that they can move on without me, but Ebony shakes her head.

 “You really think?” she says, more of a statement than a question, and the others nod.

 “Think what?” I say, but I immediately regret it for I just need to go. Why am I prolonging the conversation?

 “Think that you can just do this without us. Not going to happen, we can wait. Or come in with you.”

 I glance from the door to them and relent. It creeks on its hinges as the odors of my home swing out with the door; cold, minty smells mixed with the richness of my mother’s vegetable stew as it sits brewing on the stove.

 “Evika? Oh!” she lets out a surprised gasp as more children file in behind me, and Ebony subtly moves to hide behind the rest, being aware of my mother’s ire towards her.

 “And what’s this all about?” she asks with a confused smile, and I realize how ludicrous we currently look huddled in our small home, so out of place.

 “T-the grass, the patch north of Irens house, its worse. Dead. You said you would check on it?”

 She blanches just as I did, and she stumbles on her words. “W-Well we did, and it should be fine… don’t go there any more if you are so scared of it!” she barks, and I flinch at the sudden rise of volume, having not expected it.

I pick at my wrist as I look at the group, unsure of how to proceed. They all give me glances I attempt to decipher, but it is of no use, the sleeves of my blouse sliding against my shoulders with a silence-piercing hiss as I shrug in defeat.

“Ma’m, we were all just at that grass, and if Evika told you about it a year ago it would not be nearly as bad as it was. With respect.” Masy adds onto the end as my mothers’ eyes fly open with rage at the insolence.

Perhaps we were overreacting. In truth it could have started after my mother had inspected it. An entire year is a significant amount of time for such things to occur. My face reddens at the thought.

“Ma-” I start.

“Yea, when did you check on the grass?” asks Wey.

My mother, flustered, mutters, “How am I supposed to remember?”

They nod and I try again to lower the tension I can feel building in the air as my mother catches sight of Ebony ducking behind Iren.

“Um-” I try again.

She shakes her head furiously. “I cannot believe this! I allowed my daughter to be friends with this Ebony, and what do I get? I swear the little Malv makes you more and more difficult everyday Evika.”

“I-”

“No! I don’t want to hear another word of this, do you crude children understand?” she gestures the spoon that she wields in their direction before aiming her discontent towards me. “And you will no longer be associating with any more Malvs’ nor Namays’, do you understand?”

“But-” she silences me by bringing the spoon down upon our small dining table with an overly audible clang and I reach to cover my ears before forcibly making myself relax, my hands zipping right back to my collar buttons. I feel tears start to shove their way into my eyes and I nod in quick acceptance as a means of excusing myself. I rush past Iren and Ebony, almost to the point of pushing them, and flee out the door at a mildly controlled pace.

The sun is so bright, the sounds around me suddenly so piercing, the smells of pine and grass and burning wood and far away stew, it all seems to just swelter on my conscience and my senses. Why can’t it just stop for a moment? My arm. Something is touching my arm. My skin is crawling and I want to throw up, and I try to scratch near the air there, to get it off. I don’t know exactly when the hand-shaped entity releases me, but the feeling eventually lessens, and I take many deep breaths to collect myself.

One.

The air smells of all the things previously stated, but I attempt to focus on the green of the grass.

Two.

As my skin makes contact with the sea of ribbons on the ground, I can feel its worry over me.

Three.

It makes me focus on it, on the pines a yard away, and on the lavender growing somewhere nearby.

Four.

I sense through the grass that four people of around the same mass are behind me, stretched towards the sun, so tall. I connect the dots and realize that Ebony was trying to check up on me, that she is standing silently behind me still.

As I exhale a last breath, I thank the grass, the lavender, and the pine for their aid and continue to focus on their scents as I stand up and turn back around.

Faces are scrunched up in confusion and worry, and I hug myself, trying to appear as small as possible, trying to somehow hide from the embarrassment that is rushing upon me currently.

What an over reaction.

I attempt to mutter an apology, but nothing can seem to get past my throat.

Their gazes shift down, and they all transfer from confusion, to wonder.

I look down and Green shoot rise out of the ground as I step away from them. They were not there before. They grow, and grow, and to our shared amazement, they bloom, despite the fact that it is far out of season, despite the fact that the rate with witch they grow is far unprecedented. Long, purple pedals unfurl to welcome pollinators into their midst, and an another few sprouts, green bulbs pop slowly open, releasing soft magenta pedals akin to string with its size.

Do not fret, they said.

Be calm.

I look, amazed, to the rest of the people gathered with me, and reluctantly lock with Ebony's brown eyes for a moment of rare understanding.

Eyes wide, she is remembering that day over a year ago when the willow tree did such a similar thing, producing a fuzzy red flower when it very well should not have.

“Gods” Masy and Iren mutter in unison, Wey shaking his head.

The flowers have stopped growing, only big enough to produce flowers, assumingly not having enough energy to continue.

“Has something like this ever happened before?” Iren stoops, poking and proding, smelling the flowers inquisitively.

“How much magic d‘ya got, girl!?” Masy says, crossing her arms and shifting her weight to one leg, her light maroon-pink dress fluttering softly in the breeze.

The wind brings with it a chill, and I shiver.

“W-we were at a willow tree and around this time of year, a while ago and it made a flower, way out of season, but that’s it.” Ebony says, and she looks at me again, but I avoid her gaze this time, for the first was uncomfortable enough. “At least, that’s the only other time I know of.”

I nod to back her claim before realizing that she was accusing me of secrecy.

I truly hope she does not believe her claim.

Wey shifts foot to foot and looks around uneasily. His shared blue gaze shoots to me as he finally decides to speak.

“Remember when we were… talking to people when we first met and there was that kid that we all didn’t like?” he waits for our confirmation to continue. “I have been seeing him in places recently. I know this isn’t the best time but, weird things are happening and I just thought you guys might want to know.”

“Yes!” Masy grabs her brother by his shoulders and shakes him viciously. “Why didn’t you tell me?! I thought I was going nuts!” She whisper-screeches, aware that my mother is still relatively near, and I half expect her to slap him.

I take a step forward and she pauses, they all do, and watch me, waiting. I blush at the embarrassing attention, but beckon them deeper into the woods. To talk. They look to each other, gauging if they are really doing this again, before noding.

As they walk once more into the reaching green pines, now slightly ominous as dark draws near and the bottom becomes more full of shadow, and are fully enveloped into their flowery, green scent once more, I crouch down and pick a flower from the odd patch.

Weird as it is, it carries non of the foreboding or queasiness I get from my normal day.

I look back at my cottage, fairly sure that my mother has not yet come to collect me because she has cooled slightly and is allowing me a last time with my friends.

I quickly pick some of the flowers, stuff them into my pocket, hope they survive without too much breakage, and follow after the others. Into the green.

Into the dark.

We come to a stop fairly deep within the forest, having found a place around halfway between the human settlement and the village. I have an inkling that had the village not been there, we would have continued, and continued, using the exertion and dark to avoid talking of what needs to be said once again. Something about the subject seems to put us on such an edge, the reason that we have avoided it since that day.

The place we have stopped is packed with great conifers that sway ever so slightly in the wind. Gray and brown finishes flutter through the trees, and a small patch of flycatchers with red painted bellies hop in the grass. Their chirps and the rustling of the trees and the birds housed in them are the only sound as we watch the world around us, trying to gather our thoughts, subtly procrastinating the topic till.

I look to each of them, searching for a sure face and find none.

After many moments, I say: “Does anyone have light for the way back?”

They shake their head.

“We can use the moon,” Ebony suggests.

I nod, but am still anxious about the density of the patch of forest we stumbled into. It blocks out much of the light, and I find myself already relying more heavily on other senses.

There is another long stretch of silence.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” Masy mumbles.

The corners of my mouth turn up as I fight to contain my laugh.

“Okay, is there anything that you’ve been keeping from me?” he counters

Her face sours before dropping into seriousness. She takes a deep breath and begins.

“I… yes. I was gunna to tell yall last time but I thought that maybe it really was nothing.”

Another deep breath.

“I think I’ve seen traces of inuriagi.”

Silence follows, and it is as though even the wind halted its movement.

Inuriagi.

In rough translation: wrongmagic.

Wey is the first to break the silence.

“And you got mad at me for not mentioning a boy!?”

“You mean… like actual traces of the inuriagi?” Iren asks in disbelieve.

Masy nods somberly, and says, “I think so.”

Inuriagi.

A chill runs down my spine as I realize that she may be right.

The rabbit of rubbing my wrist had slowly faded away, but I now I stare at it again, almost able to see that searing white, foreign rune dripping onto my body.

“I think your right” I am barely able to get out the whisper.

“I think it was inuriagi that my mother used.” I say looking at Ebony, and her face pales as she remembers my part of the conversation.

How had we not seen it before?

“That was on you?” she breaths in horror.

“Masy,” Iren gathers her wits quickly, “where was this?”

She swallowing and says “The acrostic the river, towards my uncle Michel’s house.”

As we digest this, I again grow aware of the fading light and incoming darkness.

We need to get back, bit I don’t think any of us have a particular desire to go back.

Regardless, we need to finish.

“What should we do?” Ebony surprises me with her question, and we look at her.

“What? We obviously have to do something if some of us are using inuriagi!”

“What can we do?” Iren asks skeptically.

“We can… we can confront them?” she thinks for a moment. “We can report them to other people not using it.”

“How can we tell who is and isn’t?” Masy chimes in.

“Okay, report them to the Conclium De Malficus?”

“Ebony-“ Wey tries to start but is cut off by Iren.

“How would we get there? We can’t just leave.”

“Sure we can, especially if this is going on!”

“Ebony, we’re just kids!” Wey is finally able to break in, and he is almost shouting now.

“We aren’t kids; most of us are around 17, your 18. Even Masy is already 16.”

Wey pushes his palms into his eyes and he mumbles “Still, we’re young…”

“Well we… actually, why don’t we ask those people who agreed with us last time?”

“I don’t want to drag other people into this.” I say, and they look like they were about to protest when I continue. “If people are really using inuriagi, this could get really dangerous-”

“Which is why we shouldn’t get involved…” Wey mumbles again.

“-which is why we have to do something. This must be why the plants have been unwell, and this magic controls you, turning the user into something they are not. It is almost limitless, making it one of the most dangerous magics one could use. There is a reason it was banned centuries ago. Ebony is correct; we clearly have to do something.” I finish.

Silence overcomes the clearing again, and I can only just make out the shapes around me in the settled dark.

Wey’s settles on the ground.

“So what do we do?”