There was a tiny tree growing out of Pru’s hand.
She stared at it, her open mouth getting bigger and bigger as the tree grew. Like a time-lapse image, the trunk moved upward, branches pushed their way out, leaves unfurled, roots spread seeking soil.
She’d done that. With magic that came from within herself.
“Good work, Pru,” said Professor Barrett, his big, bushy eyebrows going up and his beard twitching in his version of a smile. “I knew you’d be able to get this.”
“It’s so beautiful,” she whispered.