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The entire Boiling Isles has been different after the attack. Willow knows she surely isn’t the only one who wants to do something to fix it. But she does notice that the people still active in restoration have been passing like leaves in the wind, as the distance since Belos’ defeat grows into months. Willow refuses to let herself be one of them.
That isn’t a particularly difficult task, either, especially not for Willow. She’s come far enough to be able to admit to herself that she’s a really powerful witch who’s only getting stronger by day. And it isn’t as if she has to look too hard for something to fix. Sure, there are no longer so many fallen boulders blocking out streets that it’s nearly impossible to pass through, but they’re still there. Most of the debris has been pushed into the forests, interrupting the regrowth of the plants and foliage. But most people seem to have moved on from it simply because they can’t see it. ‘Out of sight, out of mind’ — she’s all too familiar with that mindset.
So, here she is, still, day after day, under the shadow of those towering red leaves, standing before a mess that someone else left behind.
A stray curl falls in front of her face as the wind passes by, and the sudden movement shakes her back into focus. Willow blows her hair out of her way as she readjusts her footing, sinking her boots just a little deeper into the wet soil.
She stretches her arms out before the slump of broken stone in front of her, straightening her back to keep her breath even so she can lay all her focus on her task. She scrunches her fingers and closes her eyes, getting a better feel of the space before she lets her vines twirl out of the ground around her feet. It’s easy to do by now, and she welcomes the familiar euphoria of her blood rushing as she feels her power awakening. It’s a good thing, too, since she was starting to feel a slight strain at her muscles around her shoulders.
Without even meaning to, her eyes dart to the bags she’s left in a bush nearby. The flap of her bag is blowing in the wind, and she can see her scroll is poking out of the opening. Not only that — she notices that several loose pieces of paper are flying about above the grass, narrowly escaping being blown away entirely.
She can’t help but wince as she quickly spins her pinkie in the air, a few sprouts popping up from the ground to grab her homework. In the back of her mind, she briefly regrets heading here immediately after school wrapped up instead of making a run home first. But she pushes the thought aside. The trip home from Hexside would take up quite some time, and it’d require even more time in the forests from there.
Willow keeps her eyes on her vines as they work with her, eyeing around them to make sure she’s got them wrapped completely. The last thing she needs right now is an accident. She raises her arms up carefully, and her vines move in tandem with her, bringing the mess up above the ground. She forces herself to push forward and she feels a slight strain at the back of her shoulders.
Suddenly, a large piece of rubble falls through her vines, tearing a hole right above her. Willow tries to direct her vines in their direction, to push it away and shield herself, but, in her hurry and panic, she misses. The vines shoot away and she freezes in place as she watches the piece of stone biting its way through her plants towards her.
And then, just as quick as the breaking, a flash of bright gold light overwhelms her sight and she’s swept abruptly off her feet. She barely has the chance to breathe, let alone fully register what happened. Willow blinks and rubs her eyes, distantly aware that her glasses aren’t where they should be. The lights in her eyes slowly fade back to normality, though the world is still a fuzzy mess. But even through all the haze, Willow can feel a familiar pressure at her back, and the cool, rough skin of a palm on her arm.
“Hey,” comes a voice above her head. “You alright?”
Her hands reach up above her face, more reflex than conscious movement, and she finds her glasses crooked, the back of their arms tangled up in her hair. She grabs them and pulls them back into place.
“What are you doing here?”
“Same as you, I’d say.” Hunter grins, and Willow is hit in the face with the realisation that Hunter is still holding her. She can feel her firm arms against her back, holding her up, keeping her safe.
“Thank you,” Willow tells Hunter, once the thrill starts fading.
“Don’t mention it.”
Willow laughs, but it's a light and hollow sound. Of course she’s happy that Hunter is here, grateful that she came to help her again, but an uneasiness is stirring inside of her. In her mind, she sees Hunter’s smiling face shifting into the faces of her fathers, their worried glances urging her to take more time to rest. It’s possible they’re why Hunter knew to find her here at all — her fathers trying to get her friends to convince her because they can’t do it themselves.
She knows they all mean well. But how could she possibly just ignore all this, especially as someone who knows she’s capable of doing so much more? She can almost hear Hunter’s voice already, pleading with her to give up her task already.
“Come on,” Hunter says instead. She nods back at the boulders Willow was trying to move. “It’d be easier if you had an extra hand.”
Caught unaware, Willow doesn’t say anything. In the seconds she wastes staring at her, Hunter has walked forward to the mess Willow left behind, looking it up and down. She stretches her hands out in front of the pile, holding open her fingers and shifting them against it, like she’s measuring them.
“Shouldn’t take more than an hour to clear all this,” Hunter declares as she turns back to her, “if we work on it together.”
“You want to help?”
“That’s what I came out here for,” she says, a low hum in her tone. There’s a curious glint in her eyes, a hint of a smirk behind her smile. “Though, I wasn’t expecting to see you here today.”
“Why not?” She blurts out, before she can think.
“It’s not an accusation, Captain,” Hunter reassures her. “I just remember you having lessons up till noon. I assumed you’d be home at this time, if you weren’t still at Hexside. But, hey, it’s a good surprise.”
Willow has a lingering feeling that Hunter might have more she wants to say, but she lets it go after a moment of quiet. She has a sneaking suspicion she knows what she’ll say, anyway, and isn’t in the mood to push it.
She walks forward to stand beside Hunter, getting up on her tiptoes for a second so she can spare a quick glance at her view too. Standing away from it now, Willow can acknowledge that the load there is pretty intense, and tries to stop kicking herself over the failure earlier.
“So,” Willow says, mostly just to break the silence. “I guess we should start.”
Hunter nods, straightening her back as she slips her hands into her pockets. She makes to step forward and get even closer to the heap, when she suddenly jerks around, turning to Willow. She reaches out to her, touching her wrist. “Wait, before I forget — have you had lunch yet?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Surprisingly, Hunter looks almost eager when she hears that. It baffles Willow a little, but she continues. “I didn’t think it’d be worth it to go all the way home, you know?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Hunter says, bumping their shoulders together.
She watches Hunter gesture at the bag slung across her body. She opens the flap to reveal something wrapped in nice brown paper, sealed with a string of abomination goo, tied into a neat little bow as a finish. “I’ve got us both covered!”
“What is that?”
“It’s grilled cheese! Something like it, anyway.” Hunter’s grin widens impossibly, her face brightening as she keeps talking. “Darius has been teaching me some recipes and what-not, letting me mess around in his kitchen. He insisted — well, no, I guess it wasn’t really him insisting, since I was the one who — y’know, it’s not really important. My point is! I’ve got sandwiches!”
She holds one out towards Willow, and she accepts it without hesitation. It’s still warm to the touch, and she can smell the faint aroma of herbs, bread and cheese through the paper wrapped over it. She uses her thumb to slip open a tiny part of the wrapping, sneaking a peek at the toasted loaf behind it.
When she looks up, Hunter is gesturing somewhere a little beyond them. “Saw that spot while I was approaching earlier, figured we could sit there and eat.”
Willow squints to get a better look at the place. The log has seen better days, with holes carved in by creatures and age. Leaves are strewn all around it, the wind making them fly around in slow, subtle circles. It’s not the prettiest sight ever, but it’ll do for sure.
An idea pops into mind as she catches a glimpse of Clover zooming around somewhere high behind the roof of Hunter’s head. Reaching forward with her free hand, Willow grabs Hunter’s wrist, leaning up to her with a newfound burst of glee.
“Want to get out of here?”
It never fails to make Willow’s heart flutter when she sees how pretty Hunter is when her eyes light up and her lips slip up into a wide, mischievous grin.
“What are you suggesting?”
Willow pulls her head back slightly and lets out a whistle, signalling for Clover to fly back to her. Her palisman diligently swoops down to her side, her buzz brightening with delight as she sees Hunter standing in front of her.
Hunter’s eyes widen as she watches Clover taking form into a staff slowly, and she reaches forward to take the sandwich from Willow’s hand, clearly having caught on to Willow’s plans.
Willow hops onto her staff, kicking herself into the air to hover above the ground. Hunter settles onto the space behind her, leaning forward to hold Willow to keep herself steady. Hunter’s hands wrap around her waist, and she scoffs when she feels Hunter bending down just so she can rest her head on her shoulder.
Willow’s eyes widen, and she chuckles just to distract herself from the blush she feels rising to her cheeks. She leans forward, keeps her eyes forward, and, with a whistle, they begin to soar into the air. The wind sings against Willow’s ears as they continue flying higher, and Willow realises again that the feeling never stops being grand.
She decides to stop when they’re a little ways above the trees of the forest, at a spot where they can almost make out the boiling waves of the sea.
“It’s beautiful up here.” Hunter says, turning around to take in the scenery around them.
Willow hums in agreement, though her own gaze is turned onto Hunter. After a couple of seconds, Hunter turns back to face her, the smile still wide on her lips. She watches Hunter pick out two sandwiches from her bag, and accepts the one she holds out to her.
By the time they finish eating, the colours in the sky have shifted just a little, going from deep blues to shades of shrinking purple. As they each crumple up the wrapping paper, Willow notices that Hunter has paused in her movements and is looking at her strangely.
“Is something wrong?”
“No, it’s just—” Hunter leans forward towards her carefully, her hand reaching in the direction of her legs. Willow frowns, but she turns her face to match Hunter’s gaze.
Willow sees the injury before she fully registers it — the scrape on her knee, thin jagged lines, with the tiniest droplets of blood scattered around them. She obviously missed the tingle of pain that sparked when the cut first formed, and it hits her now, minutes later.
Hunter, meanwhile, has begun to rumble around in her bag again, fishing out a handful of thin little bandages. “Do you mind if I…?” Hunter raises her brows, gesturing at her wounds.
“No, go ahead.”
Hunter nods and scoots over so she can put the bandage on for her. Willow watches silently as Hunter peels open the bandage, bends forward, and reaches for her knee. Her touch is gentle but firm, pressing down its edges to make sure it sticks.
“Thank you,” Willow says when Hunter leans away and sits back. She keeps holding her gaze, even when Hunter looks up and meets it. “For always looking out for me.”
“It’s a pleasure. Besides, you do the same for me.”
Willow hums, nodding as she slowly runs a finger over her knee. She traces the outline of the bandage above the wound, trying to work out her thoughts.
“It’s taking a while for the lesson to stick, isn’t it?” she says after a while. Willow had meant for her tone to be teasing, but it comes out tight and bitter.
Hunter doesn’t seem to mind, only raising a brow. “Lesson?”
“You know,” she gestures vaguely with her hands, not looking at Hunter. “I should’ve learnt by now that I don’t have to do everything by myself. I can still be strong and helpful, even if I take a break sometimes.”
Willow isn’t sure what she expects Hunter to say in reply. Hunter’s turned away from her too, looking out at the scenery beneath them, so it surprises her a little when she does begin to speak.
“For what it’s worth, I'm still learning it too.” She turns back around to Willow and smiles. Something in her face shifts as she continues, “You can't expect to get better overnight. It’s a slow, tiresome and gruelling process but—” She bites her lip, like she’s trying not to laugh. “I think it'll be worth it.”
The latter part of what she said strikes Willow as a little unlike Hunter, instead strangely reminiscent of something Darius would say. Willow finds herself giddy at the implications of Hunter being sat down for a talk with Darius, much like she did with her own fathers.
“I know,” she agrees, nodding. Willow sighs and her hands find the ends of her hair, twirling the curl in her finger. “Still feels sort of silly, doesn’t it?”
“Sure does, Captain.” Hunter says, completely nonchalant. It’s so remarkably cute, it’s almost sickening.
Willow chuckles, exasperated, and manages a light shove to Hunter’s shoulder before leaning over to rest her head on her arm. Hunter leans into the touch, humming.
As she draws back her hand, she grazes the top of Hunter’s palm, resting on the empty space between them. Willow looks at their hands for a second, then reaches out to touch Hunter’s pinkie finger with her own. Hunter reaches out too, and they entwine their fingers together.
Willow tightens her grip on Hunter’s finger slightly. She doesn’t think she’ll ever begin to be able to explain how soothing an action as simple as this has become. It’s theirs, well and truly, and she always wants to stay right here.
“You’ll do it with me, right?” she whispers.
“Forever,” Hunter says, with not a drop of hesitation. “If you want it.”
Willow’s breath catches in her chest. She pulls her head away from Hunter’s shoulder and takes a moment just to study her face. Her hair is as bright as ever, its tone comparable to the richest honey, now blown messy by the wind. The curve of her nose is tall and sharp, complimenting the rest of her face. Her warm brown eyes reflect a deep, unshaking sincerity back at her.
Leaning up, Willow grabs Hunter’s face, beckoning it down just a little so she can kiss the space between her thick, bushy brows. Her eyes close shut as her lips touch Hunter’s skin, and she hears Hunter chuckling as she finally pulls away a little.
Willow feels the butterflies in her stomach blossom out as flowers grow in her hair, their small thin vines making tiny spirals in her curls, an explosion of colour popping up around her face. Some of the petals fall around her as she shakes her head, and they cast a rainbow tint over her gaze.
Hunter’s eyes widen at the sight, her lips parting slightly as she lets out the softest little sigh.
She draws her hand up towards her hair, then draws back, looking at Willow with her brows raised. Willow nods, and Hunter leans forward to pick up one of the flowers in her hair, delicately untangling it from her curls.
The flower Hunter picks is a delicate magenta thing, its petals falling from just the sneaking touch of the wind alone. Laughing lightly, Hunter tucks the flower behind her ear, trying to keep her face still to stop it from falling apart too quickly.
Willow grins, and with a spin of her finger, a crown of flowers plops down onto Hunter’s head. Hunter scoffs as she reaches up to readjust it, combing back the hair that’s fallen over her face.
Willow lets herself rest her head on Hunter’s shoulder again, staring out at the horizon this time. Hunter doesn’t miss a beat and she reaches for her hand, their fingers meeting and intertwining again.