Chapter 7 #3
For some reason, I found myself reluctant to share Grandmother’s…unsettling suggestion. “Most ingredients also require an emotional component.”
He nodded, encouraging me to continue. I hesitated.
“These berries apparently respond best to harmonious emotions. Magic grows stronger in companionship.”
I almost expected him to scoff, but instead he grew thoughtful. “That seems reasonable. We’re already experiencing a harmonious companionship. Shall we try harvesting them together?”
We both reached towards the berries at the same time. Our hands brushed, but the invisible barrier remained. For several seconds neither of us spoke. Then I heaved a heavy sigh. “What are we missing?”
As though answering the question, a breeze drifted through the hollow.
The glowing moss surrounding the clearing brightened faintly, while the nearby flowers slowly unfurled beneath the fading light.
For the briefest moment, the berries themselves almost seemed to pulse softly beneath the rain.
The clearing seemed to be holding its breath, as though patiently waiting—not for companionship, but for something more.
Then Gabe reached towards one of the thorny vines. “I wonder if—”
The bramble immediately snagged his sleeve.
He frowned and attempted to free himself, only for another thorn to catch his cloak.
As he shifted to disentangle that one, a third hooked itself around his wrist. The more he tried to escape, the more thoroughly the briars seemed determined to imprison him.
Within moments he had somehow become entangled amongst the raspberry bushes. He glanced down at his predicament before solemnly meeting my gaze. “I appear to be losing a battle against a raspberry.”
The absurdity of the declaration struck me completely unprepared.
A laugh escaped before I could stop it. The sound rang through the clearing, bright and unrestrained, mingling with the soft patter of rain upon the leaves overhead.
It felt foreign upon my lips, as though it belonged to another girl entirely—one I vaguely remembered but hadn’t seen in a very long time.
The laughter faded almost as quickly as it had come. I stilled. For a long moment all I could do was stare at him. I pressed my hand to my chest, as if the gesture could contain the strange ache suddenly tightening my ribcage.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had laughed like that—not politely to reassure a customer, or mechanically because social convention dictated it. A real laugh, spontaneously given. Years had passed since I had heard such a sound emerge from my own lips.
The realization settled over me with startling force. How many other pieces of myself had quietly disappeared while I wasn’t paying attention?
Across from me, Gabe’s expression had softened into something I couldn’t quite decipher.
Not amusement—though traces of it lingered around his mouth—but something gentler, almost reverent.
As though he instinctively understood that whatever had just happened carried far greater significance than a man becoming trapped in a berry bush.
Slowly, his lips curved upwards. “You have a lovely laugh.”
The warmth already lingering beneath my skin deepened until it felt as though my cheeks had absorbed all the color from the surrounding berries.
Before I could think of a response, a shimmer of movement caught my attention.
Both of us turned. The briarthorn berries glowed softly amongst the leaves, their crimson surface threaded with veins of silver light.
The surrounding vines stirred despite the absence of wind, while the scent of rain and wild raspberries intensified until it seemed to fill every corner of the hollow.
Magic pulsed through the clearing, subtle yet unmistakable, like the steady rhythm of a heartbeat.
The berries had ripened.
My thoughts drifted back to Grandmother’s words as I stared at them. These particular berries respond best to harmonious emotions. I had assumed companionship alone would be enough, yet the berries had remained stubbornly dormant until my laughter, until genuine connection had passed between us.
The forest had grown impossibly quiet around us.
The rain had softened to little more than a mist drifting through the clearing, while the scent of wild raspberries and damp pine filled the air.
Somewhere overhead, sunlight broke through the clouds in scattered golden beams that illuminated the lingering droplets upon the leaves, causing them to sparkle like scattered jewels.
Wordlessly, we moved towards the brambles together, unconsciously stepping close to each other. This time when we reached for the berries, the invisible barrier offered no resistance, the magic welcoming us.
The moment my fingers closed around the berry, another hand brushed mine.
I glanced up. Sometime between reaching for the fruit and plucking it from the vine, Gabe’s hand had settled over mine.
So that together we cradled the berry between our palms, as though the magic required both of us to harvest it.
Neither of us immediately pulled away. Despite my silent orders to myself to withdraw my hand, for reasons I couldn’t explain, I remained still, unwilling to shift away from this position.
I became acutely aware of the warmth of his hand against mine, the steady rhythm of my heartbeat echoing in my ears, and most of all his nearness.
When I finally managed to lower my gaze, I found him watching me with the same quiet intensity that had accompanied so many of his glances throughout the day.
This newfound awareness deepened with every berry we plucked.
Each time our hands brushed while gathering the fruit, warmth stirred unexpectedly within me.
Each shared glance lingered a fraction longer than it should have.
Even the silence felt different now, no longer empty but filled with an unspoken understanding I couldn’t quite name.
The experience was simultaneously torturous and wonderful, one I both wanted to escape and couldn’t bear to end.
By the time we harvested the final berry required for the tart, my thoughts felt hopelessly tangled, as if the briarthorn vines had somehow wrapped themselves around my mind instead of my cloak.
The moment the last berry settled into the basket, I abruptly rose and retreated several paces away beneath the shelter of an overhanging branch.
The distance wasn’t nearly far enough to escape his presence…
or the relentless pounding of my heart. I wrapped my arms around myself in a futile attempt to contain whatever was happening inside me.
What was this I was experiencing?
It wasn’t painful like grief, lacking the sharp edges of loss and the hollow ache that had followed my parents’ deaths. Nor was it entirely pleasant. It felt more like every ingredient in a mixing bowl had been thrown together at once.