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Meanwhile, yellow flashes came from above, likely Allison peppering the dark faerie with lightning or magical bolts.
Smoke rose from the dirt around Tammy’s toes, the tainted earth smoldering in response to the upwelling of life-charged energy she called out of the realm. Emerald light washed up and over her, coiled around her arms, and shot forward into the writhing mass of sharp roots. The blackened vines disintegrated on contact with the energy, leaving two fist-sized tunnels through the tangled mass. It collapsed to one side, the tumbleweed shape deflating from ball to blob. Whether or not she’d truly wounded it or it was trying to fake her out, she didn’t care—and hurled another blast of energy at it.
Allison’s lightning bolt struck the mass from the side at the same time; between both spells, the entirety of the thorny blob collapsed in a crackling heap of ashes. A tiny figure, like a silhouette of Maple, rose up from the pile before it, too, disintegrated… giving off a faint wail of agony.
“Ack! Tammy. Are you okay?” called Allison from the top of the giant root.
She peered up at the older witch. “Yeah. Just a few scratches.”
“A few?” Allison gawked.
Tammy glanced down at herself. Tattered shreds of fabric sorta-clung to her upper half, the remains of her shirt destroyed by a hundred thorns. The rest of her clothing had disappeared entirely—no doubt dropped when she turned into a panther. Cuts, scrapes, and gouges covered her from head to toe. Not until she looked at herself did she process the stinging pain everywhere.
“Ugh. Not again.”
Allison climbed down and rushed over to her. “Again? What do you meanagain?”
Maple zoomed around her, spraying her with gold-green faerie dust.
“Fell off a cliff when I was like thirteen. Landed in thorns. Felt about the same as this.”
“Umm. I don’t remember hearing about that.” Allison winced while gingerly patting at one of the cuts with a tissue.
“It happened in the faerie world. Second childhood version of thirteen.” Tammy huffed, closed her eyes, and cast a restorative spell on herself.
Shallow flesh wounds were easy to mend. As the stinging pain changed to itchy tickling, Allison gasped.
“Are you doing that or is Maple?”
“Yes,” said the faerie.
“Both of us.” Tammy stood there, enjoying the feeling of not hurting.
“You can heal with your magic?” Allison whistled. “That is awesome.”
“Yeah. Maple says I’m a natural healer.” Tammy opened her eyes. “Remember when Mom got shot?”
Allison smirked. “Which time? Sam collects bullets like I collect shoes.”
“Not funny.” Tammy chuckled anyway. “I mean when I was four. Before she was turned into a vampire.”
“I didn’t know her then.”
Tammy flailed her arms. “She talks to you, though, right? I’m sure she’s told you the story about how four-year-old-me tried to make her get better by cuddling.”
“Aww.” Allison started to reach for a hug, but stopped.
“What? Am I no longer huggable?”
Allison winked. “Put some pants on first, then we’ll try again.”
“Oops.” Tammy raised her arms as moss, leaves, vines, and a few flowers began collecting around her in the form of a dress. A moment later, she was fully clothed. “There.”
“Neat.” Allison fussed at it. “You have to teach me how to do that. I love it!”
“I’ll try. Not sure if it works for normal witches.”
Allison crossed her eyes. “Who said I’m normal?”
