Before leaving her hometown for a good long while, Sylvie paid a last visit to the grove. Now, it almost felt more like home than the house she'd been born in, or the school where she'd grown up.
This place held no lies.
If it held truths, though, Sylvie did not understand them. She had never met the spirit that protected it, only felt a vague presence. It had been strange and intriguing, and ever so slightly welcoming. She had no idea if visiting this place as often as she could when she was little had somehow given her the talent for plant magic that she had, or if having that affinity had drawn her to the place, and caused its protector's bening disposition towards her.
Today, Sylvie got no sense of that. The grove looked the same as she remembered, a miracle of growth and life, but her gut feeling told her entering it would be not a good idea.
Maybe she had not visited for too long, and lost something. Or maybe it was just her bleak mood being reflected to her.
Sylvie tried to patch up her disappointment by telling herself, It is still beautiful and alive, and will be when I come back. She needed more distance from her own life to see how the pieces fit together than visiting her childhood-hideout could provide.