By the endof the month, the campers give me a nickname.
The Plant Whisperer.
At first, I blush so hard I almost bury my face in the compost pile.
But Hazel just pats my shoulder and says, “You earned it. Don’t argue with branding.”
Julie laughs and starts calling it out in front of guest groups—“Ask our Plant Whisperer, she’s got answers!”
Even Callie carves it into the corner of the new community board, surrounded by little doodles of roots and stars.
And somewhere along the way, I stop flinching when I hear it.
Because maybe they’re right.
Maybe Iamsomeone who listens to what’s growing, who speaks gently to wild things, and finds the space where magic and science hold hands.
Maybe the Grove heard me whisper once—and now it’s whisperingback.
That night,after the campers drift off and the Grove settles into its hush, I find Thorn at the water pool near the heart tree.
He’s half-sitting on a stone, his form bathed in moonlight. Runes faintly glowing across his shoulder like fireflies caught in still motion.
He doesn’t speak when I approach.
He doesn’t need to.
I sit beside him and let the silence stretch—comfortable, like moss underfoot.
I say, “They started calling me the Plant Whisperer.”
He hums low. “Fitting.”
I glance at him. “You’re not gonna tease me?”
He looks down at me, eyes gleaming. “I don’t tease what’s true.”
My breath catches.
I reach out, fingers brushing the bark-line of his forearm.
“You came back to me,” I whisper.
“I never really left,” he says. “I was just… lost in the roots for a while.”
I lean into him, resting my head against his shoulder. He doesn’t flinch. His hand lifts slowly, then curls around mine.
And for a long, perfect moment, we sit like that.
Wrapped in quiet.
Wrapped ineach other.
And I know, without doubt, that the Grove isn’t the only thing that’s come back to life.
So have we.
CHAPTER 24
