“Good luck. I don’t want to bail any of you out if things go south.” Meadow waved with her trekking pole and continued onto an almost-imperceptible trail in the forest and disappeared into the woods.
The outside of the golf cart was covered in moss so that it was nearly camouflaged with the forest. The three of us climbed aboard, with Hollis immediately jumping into the driver’s seat.
Callan leaned toward me where we sat in the back, and his forearm brushed against mine. “Ready?”
I smiled. “Let’s do this.”
As Hollis steered us through a narrow trail through the trees, I took in the majesty of the rainforest in the daylight. Moss clung to each tree like scarves.
It was chilly in the morning, but we all wore layers, and I enjoyed the humidity in the air as it soaked into the skin on my face. That feeling hit me again—the sensation of being hyperaware of every plant around me, from the tallest of trees to the tiniest of wood sorrels. I stretched out my connection toward a nearby mossand murmured a Floracantus for growth then smiled in delight as it filled in a small empty patch on the tree.
I noticed Callan watching me out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t say anything.
The ferns along the trail were shimmying as we drove past, an obvious nod to the presence of Hollis, who was periodically whistling.
“Pull over here,” Callan said after about fifteen minutes, and Hollis parked on the side of the trail. When we stopped, I looked around in confusion.
We climbed out of the golf cart, and Hollis and I studied the towering trees and fern-covered forest floor around us, the mist settling around our ankles like touches of unscented smoke.
“Where do we go?” I asked.
Callan pointed up, and a smile spread over my face as realization dawned.
“Of course,” I murmured, already itching to scale the nearby maple.
“And this is where I leave you?” Hollis asked.
I glanced down at a slight movement near his feet and noticed that fern sporophytes were uncurling at a rapid rate around him. Would this entire trail be covered in ferns when we got back?
Callan nodded. “If you see anything unusual, send word.”
“You got it, boss.” Hollis put the shuttle back into gear and sped off. I had a feeling he was going to have funpatrollingthe forest. We weren’t expecting anything unusual, but being prepared was always better than the alternative.
I scaled the tree after Callan, and when we reached the canopy, the branches automatically formed a trail for us, as if they were used to doing this, perhaps with more demanding botanists.
“How is Hollis going to send word?” I asked absently, marveling at the canopy as we walked. Everything was so lush andgreen. I thought I was used to green—growing up in Weed and then living at Evergreen Academy—but nothing could haveprepared me for this. With no manmade structures to be seen, I felt like I had been transported back in time. This could be a Jurassic-era world, not the twenty-first century.
“I primed some leaves for him. They’re already connected to me, so all he has to do is write down a note, and they’ll come to me.”
The air smelled prominently of pine, crisp and refreshing. As we tree walked, I let my hands skim the leaves, marveling at the variety of soft, smooth textures ranging from the size of my thumbnail to as large as one of the baskets we used to transport food from the fields at the academy.
We walked for about ten minutes, with the only sounds around us being the tweeting and singing of birds, and then Callan slowed. I followed his gaze and stuck out my arms to steady myself as the vision ahead formed in front of my eyes.
A perfectly camouflaged, slightly oblong door with rounded edges was embedded in the trees, right here, twenty feet off the ground. Vines swirled around it, as if beckoning us forward.
We had arrived at the tree conservatory, and our mission was about to begin.
Chapter Fifty-One
When we approached the door, Callan made a subtle motion with his hand, and I heard a soft whooshing to my right. Before I could look, Callan stepped forward and pressed an intricate knot in the wood—I assumed a doorbell of sorts.
I startled as a rounded piece of bark to the side of the door hinged open silently, and a woman’s voice called through the curtain of green vines.
“Credentials?” she asked.
Callan turned his face toward the window, and I looked up at the thick tangle of vines with white flowers that seemed to be pointing directly at us, tucked into the canopy above the door. Smaller, yellowish leaves were swirling around the front of the flowers, as if a miniature tornado was taking place only there. I glanced at Callan, understanding dawning. The wrist flick and whooshing noise. He had sent the swirling leaves up there to cover the flowers.
“Patricia, is that you? I’m Callan Rhodes, and this is a friend, both lead tree affinities.”
