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It was another night where Willow Park couldn’t sleep.
A month had passed since the death of Belos and the very, very slow return to normalcy of the Boiling Isles. Every day had been a whirlwind of reunions and rebuilding. The remains of the Healing Coven were tending to the wounded and the bodies of the dead. Construction witches worked to repair destroyed homes and fix infrastructure on the Isles. Their help was especially crucial in surveying the radically altered Left Arm.
Willow of course volunteered to help wherever she could. She wasn’t as useful in medicine as the Healers, but she could do decent triage. With enough effort, her Plant magic was a boon to the Construction workers as well. And of course, she was scouting out the Isles with Luz, Gus, Amity, and the rest of the group that came to call the Owl House their home.
She was working all day, every day. She should be tired. Her body wanted to sleep.
But her mind had other ideas. It wasn’t something she could just turn off, no matter how much blood and sweat she put into her day’s work. Memories of the Human Realm, being trapped by the Collector, and losing control of her magic…
Her eyes snapped open. She felt a now familiar mix of nervous energy and irritation that she couldn’t seem to force herself to sleep.
She took stock of her surroundings. She didn’t need to. Just like the last three nights, she crashed on the couch of the Owl House’s living room. Partly, at least. One of her arms and legs had rolled over the side.
She sat up and wiped the drool off her face. She wasn’t going to be falling asleep anytime soon.
With a sigh, Willow slipped on her shoes and donned her glasses. Maybe a walk would clear her head.
~
There was a breeze outside. Willow found it soothing. This part of the Isles could be a little humid at times, so the cool air against her skin felt refreshing.
Her palisman Clover buzzed alongside her. She seemed to be enjoying the cool air as well.
Her mind was still racing, though the movement certainly helped.
She didn’t realize how far she had gone before she found herself at the Hexside grudgby field.
Willow blinked, starting at the structure. It was mostly destroyed at this point - the bleachers were mostly annihilated, save for a few sections, the field itself torn to shreds. Still, she found some comfort in it.
Clover buzzed more emphatically. Willow quirked an eyebrow and followed the palisman’s gaze. Her line of sight fell on one of the intact pieces of the bleachers, only to show a familiar figure.
“Hunter?” Willow murmured.
Sure enough, the former Golden Guard - head of the Emperor’s Coven, defector, and more importantly, Willow’s friend - was sitting on a piece of bleacher, intently studying something in his hands.
With a wave of her finger, Willow summoned vines to silently move over to where Hunter was sitting.
As she got close, she realized he was looking at a book. He was looking over it with vigor.
Willow made sure to make some noise as she approached; she knew he spooked easily.
“Hunter!” she said as she rose up to the bleachers.
Apparently, even that startled the boy. He shut the book, and in a flash of golden light, teleported six feet away.
Willow backed up. She had seen him teleport plenty before, but it was still impressive to see. “Sorry! I-”
After a brief pause, Hunter seemed to calm down. “Oh. Captain.” He awkwardly shuffled back over to her.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” said Willow bashfully.
He waved a hand. “It’s alright. Just nerves, still. Not sure if that’ll ever go away.”
A pause.
“What are… what are you doing here?” Hunter asked.
Willow shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d go somewhere a little familiar.”
“...to a destroyed stadium?” Hunter asked.
Willow playfully punched him in the arm. “Don’t act like you’re not here too, doofus. Flyer Derby nerd much?”
Hunter rolled his eyes with a smile. Willow couldn’t help but notice the stark red that his eyes once were had faded to a calm brown once Flapjack had become a part of him. They were nice eyes, Willow thought.
“I’m guessing you couldn’t sleep either?” she asked.
“Yeah,” said Hunter. “You’d think the work would exhaust me, but my brain is still running like we’re all in danger.”
Willow chuckled at this. “No kidding.” Her gaze fell to the book he had put down. “Whatcha reading?”
Hunter tensed, and for a moment Willow thought she had overstepped. Despite being better about being open, there was a lot the boy still didn’t like talking about.
But after a moment’s hesitation, Hunter dropped the tension from his shoulders. “Sorry, sorry. I have no reason to hide anything from you.”
“You don’t have to-”
“No, seriously, it’s fine.” Hunter closed the book and held up the cover. “It’s a book about demon and witch subspecies,” he explained. “Including, uh…”
Willow understood. “Grimwalkers?”
He nodded.
Their friends still knew relatively little about Grimwalkers, aside from the fact that Hunter was one, and that this technically made him a clone of Belos’ brother, Caleb. It had led to Hunter developing a complex about not being a real witch, and then a further complex about being the clone of a man Belos had killed.
“We still don’t know a lot about Grimwalkers,” Hunter remarked, “but we have some information on the biological makeup of them.” He smiled wryly. “Apparently, I’m fueled by a galdorstone. I have a rock for a heart. I guess.”
Willow thought about the oddity of such a thing, but didn’t say anything.
“Selkidomus scales, Stonesleeper lungs, and some random bones. Looks like the main thing, though,” he said as he flipped through the pages, “is Palistrom wood.”
“Like Flapjack?”
He stiffened, but relaxed again. “Yeah, like Flapjack. Guess we had even more in common than I thought.” his smile was melancholy this time.
Willow thought on that. “I guess that explains how you could move in the Boiling Sea without burning up,” she said, recalling the story of how he and Luz met. “Wouldn’t be as harmful to Palistrom wood as regular flesh.”
Hunter nodded. “Belos always just told me I was born with a natural resistance to boiling water. I guess that technically wasn’t a lie.”
Willow looked over the page in the book Hunter had open. Heat rushed to her cheeks once she realized she had scooched closer than intended, bumping up against his shoulder. “It says here the Palistrom wood is used for keratin,” she said. “Does that mean I could grow your hair?”
“What?”
“Well, it’s wood, right? I could probably manipulate it with plant magic.”
Hunter considered this. “I guess so.”
Willow tilted her head. “Are you… okay?” she asked. Hunter wasn’t difficult to read, but there seemed to be a lot of emotions going on at once in his head.
His facial expression tightened. “I’m not sure.”
A beat.
“Do you wanna talk about it? It’s fine if you don’t! I just thought you might-”
“It’s fine, captain,” he said with a laugh. Willow decided not to think about how hearing that laugh made her feel. “I guess it’s… nice, to know what I am? Takes away the mystery and anxiety of not knowing, I suppose. But it’s weird too, yknow?” He looked at Willow more intently. “Knowing I’m not flesh and blood like you guys. I’m not a witch, I’m not a human, not even really a demon; I’m just a tree with some extra steps.”
“Is that such a bad thing?” Willow asked, leaning her head on Hunter’s shoulder.
“How do you mean?”
Willow just shrugged. “Just because you’re made of some different stuff doesn’t make you any less of a person. Besides, I happen to like trees.”
Hunter’s face flushed. “Uh… thanks?” he said.
Willow giggled. “Besides, you’re more like us than you think.” She took his hand, tracing her thumb over his palm. “You feel just as warm as any person I know. You feel feelings like all of us do, you laugh at silly jokes, you’re amazing at Flyer Derby… and you’re a good friend.” She looked him in the eyes again. “You’re as much as a person as the rest of us.”
If Willow had anything else to say, she didn’t get to say it. If Hunter had anything to say, he didn’t say it either, instead electing to kiss her.
For the first time in a few days, Willow’s mind went blank, if only for a moment. It certainly wasn’t anything she expected, but she was right: he was warm.
Hunter backed up suddenly. “I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, his face as red as a tomato. “I just thought- well you looked really pretty- I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m-”
Willow shut him up by grabbing the front of his shirt and initiating the second kiss herself. After a moment of tension, Hunter seemed to relax, falling into the kiss yet again.
Willow pulled away. “Hunter,” she said, “never ever apologize for kissing me ever again.”
If possible, his face burned an even brighter red. “Do I… get to do it again, then?”
Willow leaned in again. “You dork.”
~
Luz and Stringbean found the two in the morning, huddled up on a shattered bleacher of the Grudgby Field. They seemed to be fast asleep, finally comfortable in each other’s arms.
With a smile, she turned around and made her way back to the Owl House.
Eda notched her brow, a cup of apple blood in her hand. “Did you find them?”
“Yeah,” Luz replied, “but I think we should let them sleep in for a bit. They both need the rest.”