We passed the bend where my mom’s accident had occurred, and I tensed. Petra quieted and glanced my way, but then the moment passed, as it always did.
When we reached the parking lot, Petra handed me a headlamp before putting one on herself and switching on the light.
“I hope you’re okay with a little night hiking?”
“Of course.” I took the headlamp and adjusted it. I was glad I had dressed for research and was wearing comfortable clothes that would work for a hike.
“We’re headed up to base camp, so not too far.”
I nodded, familiar with the base camp area that housed a tiny alpine hut made of lava rock. We began our climb, mostly going in silence. I was grateful to be able to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. The hike wasn’t steep at this low altitude on the mountain, but now that it was dark, I needed to look to ensure steady footing on the uneven parts of the trail.
Soon, though, I found myself distracted. The roots that stretched underneath the trail were like rivers of energy demanding my attention. The cells of the trees, shrubs, and grasses around the trail seemed to beckon me to examine them.
I let the sensations wash over me, and in some ways, I felt that they propelled me on the uphill hike faster than I would normally go. I was connecting with my power, and with field studies about to begin, the timing couldn’t be more perfect. I was ready to learn.
Less than an hour later, we emerged in the base camp clearing, where explorers had once rested with their horses. The little stone cabin that was staffed by federal parks workers in the climbing season was straight ahead.
The cabin was tiny—more of a hut than a house—and the collage of rocks that built its four walls, plus the imposing stone chimney, harkened to something out of an early era of exploration. Or tribal displacement, depending on who was telling the story.
Petra made a beeline for it. I wondered what she was doing, given that I knew it would be closed right now. But Petra waved me on to follow, and then she pulled out a key and unlocked the door.
Right. So my field studies advisor had access to the historical alpine hut—the only structure this high up on the mountain. Interesting.
When we stepped inside, Petra closed the door then got to work setting up a few camping lanterns that were stashed in a crate in the corner. The hut had been built in the 1920s as a tiny shelter, and there was no electricity or much of anything inside.
“That’s better,” Petra said once the place was glowing with dim light.
“Umm, is this where we’re going to do our research?” I asked, my curiosity finally spilling over.
Petra smiled and went to feel along the interior log wall. She pressed on it gently, and a panel fell open. My eyes widened.
“Yes, it is. This is why I only come up here at night. I need the cabin to be closed off to hikers.”
She began rummaging through the materials that were stored behind the secret panel.
“How long has this cabin been your… workspace?” I asked, still awed that the cabin of my childhood field trips had secret panels inside it.
“It has been the workspace of others before me. I’m here on a temporary assignment. There is something about the ecosystem of this area that enhances a botanist’s access to our magic.”
Part of me wanted to reach out and skim the air to try to put a tangible feeling on what she was describing. Is that why I’d been so in tune with the plants on the hike in?
But what did she mean that our magic was enhanced? I had been studying botanical magic at Evergreen Academy for a year and had never heard of anything like that. “Enhanced access? What causes it?”
“We don’t know for certain. There are a few areas like this around the world, though they are rare. We call them green zones.”
“Green zones.” I let the term roll off my tongue, reverent at the idea. “How large is the area?”
“The epicenter is about a two-hundred-foot radius around us, but the effects dissipate as they spread out beyond that, with less potent runoff effects seeping into the surrounding communities. It’s the reason Evergreen Academy was built where it was.”
I looked at her sharply, though things were snapping into place. “I thought it was because of the water here?”
“That was an added bonus, but the green zone is what drew the founders to this area to begin with.”
“I see. Why haven’t I heard about them?”
“The zones are classified information. It’s a directive from the Magical Botanical Congress.”
I began to open my mouth, and she sensed my question.
