“Good old Beaufort,” Rosemary said.
“Good old Beaufort,” Corinthia agreed, “but there’s no reason the forest can’t have a little more space.It’s the least I can give.And it’s not like I use the yard for anything but the dog.To be honest, I would tear down the whole house and grow one from living trees if it wouldn’t attract too much attention.”
“You’re a romantic,” Rosemary observed.
“I’m practical.It’s eco-friendly.”
“Be honest,” Rosemary teased.“You want a magical cottage, too.”
“All right, fine.I want a magical cottage.I admit it.”
Rosemary laughed.
“I feel silly for penning myself up indoors all the time,” Corinthia added.
“You didn’t sit out here and read?”
“I should have.But I hardly spent any time out here, until I fell asleep on the porch the other night.”
“A little forest,” Rosemary mused, gliding across the lawn, “a few chairs; a little table, for beverages—hot cocoa?—a blanket, for warmth…”
“Yes.Yes!”Corinthia said, warming to the idea.“I have some things I can bring outside.”
“I can see it now,” Rosemary said.
The two of them shared a look filled with happy, imaginative thoughts.
“I saw you grow that chair,” Corinthia said, closing the distance, “and I knew I could do it too.I just knew.”
“I know you can,” Rosemary said, fervently.“Come.Let’s do it now!It’s dark, and no one will see.”
“What do I do?How do I start?”
“I’ll help you.Let’s face the forest.”
Corinthia turned north.
Rosemary moved behind her and wrapped her arms comfortably around Corinthia’s waist
Corinthia felt Rosemary’s radiant warmth against her back, and it was a struggle to stand up straight, and not lean back into the cradle of Rosemary’s embrace.
“It’s okay,” Rosemary said.“You can relax.”
“I’m not good at relaxing.”Corinthia exhaled, intentionally, letting herself go softer, more supported, placing her hands on Rosemary’s where they lay softly on her belly.
“Are you ready?”Rosemary murmured.
The words were so close they fluttered Corinthia’s pulse.“Ready.”
Despite the cool air, Corinthia felt warm all over, until it felt as if she breathed magic, sending motes spinning through the air like mist after a long, hot shower.A glow blossomed around their hands, then slowly made its way up their arms before enveloping them both entirely in what looked like a haze of moonlight.
Their bodies were trunks and branches; their hair, leaves unfurling.They were the forest and the forest was them.Beneath their feet raced new roots, filament-fine but expanding, tracing through the sand like silver electricity before new growth broke ground and reached toward the sky.
There were oaks, and lyonia bushes, and wild blueberries, and with each new growth the backyard became wilder until Corinthia and Rosemary stood surrounded by a new stand of trees, shrubs, and smaller plants, the first of their kind to grow in this patch of land in generations.
“More,” Corinthia said, and felt Rosemary’s answering smile without having to see.
They drew deeply, calling on the aquifer beneath their feet.More plants blossomed—tiny flowers on stalks like hatpins; bushes of bell-shaped flowers; shrubs bursting with strange, peanut-shaped fruit.
