It's no use; you can't just kick it to the back of your mind. It's at the heart of your whole life. You're a Witch. Moving to town doesn't change that; even losing the forest won't change that.
But even if it weren't for your magic, the forest has been your home for so long. You have a bond with it, a bond that ties it to you even now. If you were a little more powerful, you could probably summon a tree from the heart of the forest into your kitchen right in front of you. Not that you'd want to, but still.
Sitting there in the kitchen, it hits you how far away you are from it. The thought crosses your mind that you could stand up right now and go back, no matter what Grandma says. But you know she must have her reasons for wanting you to stay in town—and you also know that, if you want to help the forest, right here in Silvertree might be the best place to do it.
As you sit, your eyes glazing over as you watch a fat crow land in the yard and scatter the sparrows, the time you're going to spend alone in town stretches ahead of you—topped off with the question of just what you're going to do with it. But now you've spent a little time thinking things over, you realize it suddenly feels a little easier to answer that question.
In fact, the more you think about it, the more certain you become. In just a few minutes, you've decided that by the time your grandma gets back, you will have done your best to:
That's right. You're not exactly sure how easy it will be—but if you can even offer to help just one person, you'll have done something good in your eyes.
You might change your mind, of course, but for now it's good to have something decided. Deciding what you're going to do with so much freedom is a lot to think about, and a lot to plan for—definitely bigger than you can solve in one morning. But that's okay; you've got time.
Just as you're finishing your breakfast, your thoughts are interrupted by a loud meow.
"What's the matter, Arctus?"
She repeats the noise, sounding more insistent. When you reach her, you find her sitting by an empty bowl. She nudges you with her head to make sure you see the problem.
"You're out of food?"
"Mew."
Right. You thought you were running low.
"Good thing I know where there's a great new pet store, huh?"
She makes a slightly indignant noise—probably taking issue with being called a pet—but blinks at you affectionately anyway.
"Okay, girl. Lucky for you, I've just figured out my entire life plan—and the first step is getting you some fancy new food. Maybe a nice cozy bed, too. Sound good?"
She mews and twists happily around your ankle. You think she approves.
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