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Dawn breaks gorgeously over the Boiling Isles, and no one is more excited than Hunter.
He’s staying at the Owl House for the time being, in Luz’s old room, since she’s gone back to the human realm to finish her studies at “high school”. It was decided between Eda and Darius that the Owl House is closer to Hexside than Darius’s place, therefore more sensible to house him here. Although, Hunter suspects that Darius and Eda might have actually fought over him when he wasn’t looking, because he keeps catching Eda sticking her tongue out at Darius whenever they’re in the same room.
It’s shortly after dawn, still a few hours before school starts, but he doesn’t care. He’s dressed in his very own Hexside uniform, his book bag packed, and as he stands in front of the mirror, he seems at once so familiar and so foreign to himself.
His grin fades as he studies his new scars. They’re still tender—Camila says it could be another few months before they finish healing—and he’s adjusting to the way they tighten and tug when he speaks. He lifts one hand to his face, brushing across the stiff skin, and fights down the uncanny dread that threatens to creep in as he meets his own hazel eyes—his, but yet so different from what he’s used to—
“Heyyyy, Hunter,” screams Hooty, bursting in through the window. “Who’s ready for SCHOOOOOL????”
“AHHHH,” he shouts, and slams it shut in Hooty’s face.
Downstairs, Eda putters around the kitchen, still in her pajamas and slippers. “Morning, kid,” she says, smiling as he comes down the stairs. “Griffin egg salad or jelly butter sandwich for lunch?”
“Um, either one is fine,” Hunter says, sitting awkwardly at the table and brushing off his uniform.
It's been a month since Belos was defeated for good, and he still isn’t used to this life. Having adults in his life who care for him…waking up whenever he wants…enrolling in school like a normal kid…having choices. It feels unfamiliar, but good. But also, terrifying.
“Jelly butter it is, then. So, you excited for your first real day at Hexside?”
“Yeah, totally,” Hunter replies with enthusiasm. “I can’t wait to see everyone. I want to learn illusions from Gus, and plant magic from Willow, and potions, and abominations, and, and—“
“I gotta ask,” says Eda, slathering butter on a piece of bread, “not to be insensitive, but can you actually do magic without a staff?”
“Well, yeah,” Hunter says, “of course I can. You know, the whole, golden dash, my signature move?”
“Yeah yeah, we know it, we love it,” Eda says, splatting a whole jellyfish onto the bread and squishing it down with another slice, “but what else? Bump makes every new student take the placement exam. Even with everything you know about wild magic, if you can’t cast two spells, he’ll put you in the baby class.”
“The baby class?” Hunter’s face goes ashen. “Oh no.”
“Look, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Just relax and do your best, and if you have any problems, I’ll come have a little…chat with Bumpy-Poo.” She cracks her knuckles and one of her fingers pops off. “Oops. Don’t want to eat that.” She snorts and reattaches the finger before tucking the sandwich into his lunchbox.
“…Right,” Hunter says, secretly wondering if Eda’s idea of a chat might end up with him expelled.
“Oh, look. It’s Willow and Goops.”
Hunter peers out the window to see Willow and Gus walking up the path. His excited smile returns. He leaps off the chair and shoves the lunchbox into his bag. “Thanks, Eda! See you after school!”
Eda watches him go, a fond smile on her face. “Oh, man. This never gets old.”
“Sure it does,” says Hooty, winding his long neck (body? Leg?) in through the window. “We’re all slowly marching towards our inevitable deaths.”
Eda glares at him. “Not now, Hooty. I’m having a maternal moment.”
“If not now, then when? YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM THE TRUTH!”
Hunter glances over his shoulder as a crash sounds from the Owl House, followed by Hooty’s maniacal laughter. “I’m…just gonna ignore that.”
He turns to his friends, a big smile on his face. “What are you guys doing here, anyway? I thought we were going to meet up at Hexside.”
“Gus thought it was a good idea to walk you to your first day,” says Willow.
Gus smirks. “More like Willow wanted some time to hang out with you before we have to be in class.”
She elbows him.
Hunter’s ears flush pink. “I’m…happy to hang out with you, too.” His face falls. “Especially since I might end up in the baby class.”
“What?”
“Eda says that I need to be able to cast two spells, and, well, ever since…Flapjack…” he clenches a fist over his heart. Willow and Gus exchange a look, and Clover buzzes over to Hunter, hovering near his head. “I can only do the dash spell.”
“Hunter, you know more about wild magic than anyone,” Gus says.
“And you can do the dash thing without even making a spell circle,” Willow adds. “I’ve never seen another witch do that.”
“I know you can do other spells,” Gus finishes. “You probably just have to figure out your own way of doing things. Just like us.” He wraps an arm around Willow and they make finger guns at him.
“But…what if I can’t figure it out in time?”
“Please,” says Willow. “Do you really think Bump is going to put you in the baby class? You’re one of the witches who saved the Boiling Isles! There's no way.”
“Yeah,” says Hunter. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, guys.”
They near the school. It's busier than ever.
“Whoa, this place looks great!” Hunter says, noting the new paint, freshly trimmed hedges, and repaired windows.
“Yeah, and I heard they finally got the fairies out of the vents!” Willow adds. “It only took a month.”
“They’re still figuring out…that,” says Gus, pointing to a pillar that’s nearly covered in glowing slime. “It’s sentient mold leftover from when Hexside was an emergency shelter. They tried setting it on fire, drowning it, asking it nicely…it won’t leave. But as long as you don’t get too close, you’ll be fine.”
A student with green sleeves trips near the slime, and a cloud of spores poof out and engulf his screaming form. His friends hurry over and drag him out of the spore cloud, his body covered in pustules.
“Uh…right,” says Hunter, feeling a bit nauseous. “I’ll just, pretend I didn’t see that.”
“Well, I’m off to the illusion home room,” says Gus, throwing them a salute they learned in the human realm. “I have a magic mirror to finish enchanting before class starts. Good luck on your exam, Hunter.” He dashes off.
“Oh, uh, bye,” says Hunter.
“Do you want me to go with you to Bump’s office?” says Willow. “I don’t mind.”
“No, no. I’ll be okay. You probably have a giant plant that needs belly rubs, or something.”
Willow narrows her eyes at him, and he blushes. “Wh-what?”
“It’s okay to ask for help, you know. That's what friends are for.”
He straightens. “I’m fine. I’ll catch up with you guys at lunch! You know. If I pass.”
“When you pass,” Willow says, and winks. “Okay, then. See you later.”
“Bye.” Hunter watches her go, waving until she’s out of sight.
“Ew, get a room,” says Boscha, and Hunter belatedly realizes he’s wearing a goofy grin. He crosses his arms and snaps his face into what he hopes is an intimidating expression. Boy, sometimes he really misses his Golden Guard mask. That thing commanded respect, AND he didn’t have to worry about what expression his face was making.
“I don’t know what that means,” he says snidely. “And I don’t care, too. I’ve got better things to do than waste my time on a lowlife like you.”
He turns away and starts walking toward Bump’s office, ignoring the mean laughter from Boscha and her friends.
“All right, Hunter,” says Bump. “I’m sure this will be quick, it’s just a formality at this point, really. Show me two spells and then we’ll put together your schedule.”
“Okay, well.” Hunter clears his throat and straightens his spine, again wishing he could hide his face behind a mask. “I can do this.”
He dashes, shifting through the air to reappear behind Bump’s desk, grabbing a paperweight and then shifting again so he’s back where he started.
“Yes, very impressive,” says Bump. “Although. I do need that back.”
Hunter sheepishly sets the paperweight back on the desk.
“And your second spell?”
“Well…” Hunter scratches his head. When he was the Golden Guard, he knew several spells: the earth fist, the lightning bolt, a few others. But even though he’s been practicing, he still hasn’t managed any of those without a staff.
But he remembers Gus and Willow’s confidence in him, and steels himself.
Focusing his energy, he imagines the power of the lightning bolt, channeling it through his hand and toward the ground. With a powerful cry, he winds up his arm and slaps his hand against the floor.
Nothing happens.
In the background, someone coughs.
“Did you…want to try again, or…”
“Oh! Yeah. I was…just getting warmed up,” he says, his voice an octave higher than usual. “Let me just…HAH! HIYAH! Grrr…YATAH!!!!!” He slaps the floor again and again. Nothing happens.
“Hunter,” says Bump slowly, “you can cast another spell, can’t you?”
“Of course I can!! I…I…” his frantic tone fades into resignation. “No. I can’t. Not without my staff.”
“Hmmm.”
“Well, I know a lot about magic! Especially wild magic! I’ve been studying for years, but…” he sighs, holding one hand in the other and studying his palms and the scars that mark them. “Before… all this, I was just a powerless witch. I haven’t had the chance to get to know my new powers yet. Gus and Willow think I can do it, but…I’m not so sure.”
“I know what happened to your palisman,” Bump says gently. “And I understand if you’re not ready to move on. But all the other witches in your grade have staffs to help them. I don’t want you to fall behind. Maybe it’s time to consider getting a new palisman.”
“What?” Hunter looks up, a panicked look in his eyes. “I…I couldn’t. I…I…”
“Look, it’s all right. I don’t want to push you. And in the meantime, you can get to know your new powers in a controlled environment. Maybe you’ll learn something even the Emperor’s Coven never taught you.” He snaps his fingers and a scroll appears in his hand. He passes it to Hunter. “Whenever you’re ready with your second spell, come find me and we’ll move you up a level. Off you go, then.” He waves his hand and Hunter finds himself being shoved out of the office. The door closes behind him.
He unrolls the scroll. In big red letters, it says, BABY CLASS.
“Ughhhh,” he groans.
“Hunter?”
He looks up with panicked eyes to see Willow emerge from behind a pillar, Clover on her shoulder.
“Willow? I thought you were in class.”
“Well, I…totally ignored your wishes and followed you. And then I eavesdropped on your meeting with Bump. Heh.” She rubs the back of her neck sheepishly. “I guess it didn’t go so well after all.”
“I…” he isn’t sure what he wants to say, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing comes out. A nasty buzzing is starting in his chest, like a nest of fire wasps. He takes deep, gasping breaths, but he can’t seem to get enough air.
“Whoa, Hunter,” Willow says, reaching out a hand with a concerned look on her face. “Just breathe. We can figure this out.”
He shoves her hand away. “No we can’t,” he manages to choke out. “I’m a powerless witch. That’s what I’ll always be. I thought…when Flapjack found me…I thought things could be different. But…” tears well in his eyes. He scrubs at them angrily.
“It’s okay, Hunter. It’s going to be okay.”
“No it’s not,” he shouts. “It’s not going to be okay. He’s gone, and he’s never coming back.”
Willow leans away, a hurt look on her face. Seeing her, Hunter gasps. “I—I’m sorry.”
He turns away and disappears in a zap of golden light.
“Wait, Hunter!” Willow calls after him, but he’s already gone.
Camila, still wearing her work scrubs, closes the front door behind her and sighs, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead. “Ah, it’s so quiet,” she laments, tossing her keys on the counter. “That’s right, the kids have that sleepover today.” Vee and Luz are at Masha’s, and even though it’s been a month since Gus, Amity, Willow and Hunter returned to the demon realm, she’s grown used to constant traffic through the house, to and from the portal across the street.
She opens the fridge, scanning the ingredients and wondering if she could whip up something for herself. She can’t remember the last time she cooked a meal for just one person. The thought brings a tear to her eye, but she whisks it away as she notices that three of the sodas she bought for the kids are missing.
“Guess they wanted to take extra for their friends,” she reasons, and decides to make a sandwich.
Her phone rings. She answers, and her daughter’s worried face fills the screen.
“Luz?”
“Mama, is Hunter there with you?”
“No, why would he be here? Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know,” she says, a frown tugging at her mouth. “Willow says he ran out of school this morning and no one has seen him since.”
“What?” Camila sets down the knife, mayonnaise half-spread. “Did something happen?”
“I guess—there was something about his powers, and…Flapjack.”
“Oh, no.” Camila grabs her car keys. “Thank you for telling me, mija. I think I know where he might be.”
“Mom?”
“It’s okay, baby. I’ll text you if I find him. I love you.” She blows a kiss at the screen and hangs up, grabs her coat and an extra from the closet, and hurries out the door.
It’s freezing out, and the evening sky is dark. She shivers as she climbs into the car and shoves down her rising worry as she pulls out of the driveway and heads for Old Gravesfield.
Hunter sits at the edge of the pond, the unopened bottle of soda beside him. He’s still wearing his Hexside uniform—now dirty, scratched, and covered with leaves—and his hands rake through his hair, tugging at the fluffy strands. His hazel eyes shine with tears and they track lines down his scarred face as he mutters under his breath. “Why, Flap?” He whispers. “Why did you do it? It should’ve been me. It should’ve been me. It should’ve…”
He stares in the dark water. Remembers the feel of it, thick and cold—he knows water doesn’t boil in the human realm, but still, he never expected the weight of it, like icy chains dragging him down by the lungs. He wonders what it would be like to let it in. To feel it, and not fight it…to let it take him down, down, into the muck…to just, give up…
“Hunter!”
He gasps and looks up. He didn’t realize how close his face is to the dark mirror of the pond’s surface.
Scrubbing at his face, he squints, then his eyes widen as Camila appears through the gloom. She types something into her phone and then clicks it off and puts it in her pocket.
“There you are, mijo.”
“Camila! I…”
He glances away, rubbing the back of his neck nervously with one hand as he searches for a good excuse.
“I thought I might find you here.” She folds her knees underneath her and sinks to the earth beside him. She has something in her arms, a lump of fabric—a jacket.
Hunter looks at her with surprise. “What? Why?”
“Luz told me something happened.” She extends a hand but stops before making contact, waiting for him to nod OK. They all knew how sensitive he is to touch, especially when he’s upset. He feels a surge of gratitude and love, followed after by a wash of anguish, and fresh tears burst forth.
He sobs and folds into himself. Camila drapes the jacket over his shoulders. Its heavy, made of soft leather, and smells like cloves and woodlands. Camila’s hand lands on his back and begins to rub in soft circles.
“It’s about Flapjack, isn’t it.”
He can’t speak past the lump in his throat, so he just nods.
Camila lets out a long sigh. The slow, comforting circles continue. “Oh, mijo,” she says. “I wish I could make it easier for you. If I could, I’d do anything.”
Tears stream down Hunter’s face, and he shudders with sobs.
“The truth is, it never gets easier. It's always going to hurt. Time will make you strong enough to carry it, if you can get through it today. Right now, all you can do is let it hurt.”
Hunter sniffles. “I just…wish we had more time together. We could’ve played flier derby. We could have learned wild magic. He had so much he could have taught me. We were just getting started. We could have had so much time. We…we…”
“I know, baby.” She reaches her arm across his shoulders and pulls him in for a hug, pressing a kiss against the top of his head. “Trust me, I know.”
Hunter remembers the photo of Camila and Manny she keeps beside her bed. Suddenly he feels a rush of guilt. He pulls away and scrubs at his eyes, taking deep breaths. The coat falls from his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be—I’m probably bothering you.”
“Hunter,” she says sternly, her tone halfway between lecturing and incredulous, and she crosses her arms so she can glare at him. “Don’t you ever say that you are a bother.”
“But—“
“Even if you were—which you’re not—I would take care of you anyway. That’s what family is for.”
Hunter presses his palms against his eyes and takes a deep, shuddering breath. Then another, and then another.
Camila drapes the jacket back over his shoulders, and this time, he slips his arms through it. It’s huge on him, the sleeves so long his hands don’t reach all the way through.
“So,” she cajoles, as Hunter’s breathing eventually levels out. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”
He heaves another deep sigh. Staring at his hands—Camila wonders, for the hundredth time, about the myriad shiny scars that criss crossed them—he begins to speak in a quiet voice.
“Principal Bump wants to move me to the baby class because I can only cast one spell.”
“What? I thought you were like, a magic expert or something.” She nudges him and winks.
“I was,” he says, “when I had my staff. Without Flapjack, all I can do is the dash spell.”
“But you know so much about magic,” Camila protests. “Surely he can make an exception?”
“He said…maybe, if I get a new staff, I’d be able to cast more spells. But…” he buries his face in his arms. “A new staff? I can’t replace him. He was…everything to me.”
“I know, mijo.” Camila’s eyes close briefly as Hunter leans against her, and she brings one hand up to gently stroke his hair. “Can I tell you something about grief?”
He nods, his wide eyes watching her intently.
“You know how much it hurts,” she says, placing a hand overt her heart. “It feels like every fiber of your body is screaming out in pain. It fills you up and overwhelms you. It's everywhere.
“But every place where you feel the pain of grief is a place that once held love. Grief is nothing more than love transformed. When you feel that awful, crushing weight, just think, how lucky you are to be able to love someone so fiercely that even after they’re gone, their love stays with you, forever.”
Hunter sniffles and wipes at his eyes. “Grief…is love, transformed,” he repeats, clenching his hand in his shirt over his heart, the place where he can feel Flapjack’s glow. “I’ll never stop loving him.”
“And you’ll never stop grieving him,” Camila agrees. “There’s no timeline on grief. You can take as long as you need. But when you’re ready, I think Flapjack would want you to move on. He wouldn’t want you to be alone because of him, would he?”
“No.” Hunter chuckles through his tears. He pictures his red cardinal’s stubborn face, imagining him pulling at Hunter’s bangs, tittering in his soft squeaky voice. Pushing him, always, toward people who care for him.
“Flapjack would never want to be the reason why I don’t have a new palisman. He would want me to be happy.”
“I think you’re right.”
Hunter glances at her, then back at the ground, one hand clenching nervously around the other. Then he says, softly, “Can…you hug me again?”
Camila wraps him tight and presses his head against her chest so he doesn’t see the tears welling in her eyes. “Of course, mijo.”
He’s trembling faintly. But as they sit there, stars glowing softly overhead, his breathing begins to slow, until eventually, he is calm.
Finally Hunter pulls away, and Camila doesn’t protest.
“I feel…better,” he says, his tone puzzled. “Maybe I should cry more often?”
“It’s good to let yourself feel it,” Camila says. “Then when it has passed, you can feel a little relief. Just be careful that you don’t get stuck in it.”
He stares into the quiet pond, a thoughtful expression on his face.
Camila grabs the soda bottle. “Are you thirsty?”
“Oh. Yeah. Sorry for taking it…I should have asked.” His ears flush red.
“I’ll forgive you,” she says sternly, “if you promise that you won’t come here alone anymore.”
He takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah. I can do that.”
“Good. Then let’s pour one out for Flapjack.”
She twists open the cap and hands the bottle to Hunter.
“Uh…” he says, with a confused look Camila has come to recognize.
“It's a human thing,” she explains. “You pour some out, and then have some yourself. It’s like sharing a drink with your fallen comrades.”
“Oh. Right. Of course,” he says.
“Flapjack, this is for you, bud.” He pours a little soda out onto the earth, and then takes a big swig.
“I'm sorry for worrying everyone,” he says after a long moment of silence. “I just… suddenly I couldn’t be there anymore.”
“I know. But of course they’re going to worry. They love you.”
His ears and cheeks flush as he thinks of Willow. He owes her an apology, too.
He takes a deep, cleansing breath. “I won’t give up,” he says, determined. “I’ll keep trying. There has to be a way to do magic without a staff. I know one spell, and I can learn more.”
“That's the spirit!” Camila cheers.
“And I’ll…try to remember the love, and not the pain.” He presses his palms against the earth, tangling his fingers through the grass, dead and brown in the depths of winter, but he can feel underneath, the slumbering shoots of green, waiting for the spring. He closes his eyes and feels his heart, that stubborn beating thing that keeps him alive—even when he wishes it wouldn’t.
But Flapjack thought that heart was worth saving, didn’t he? What kind of friend would he be if he let that sacrifice go to waste?
Camila’s soft gasp makes him open his eyes. “What?”
“Look!”
He follows her gaze to the earth in front of him, where a patch of grass glows a soft golden hue, fresh green tendrils unraveling lazily toward the sky. Out of the middle of the patch comes a long green stalk, and at its end blossoms a yellow bell-shaped flower.
Camila nudges him. “Guess you won’t be in the baby class after all,” she teases.
“Whoa,” Hunter says, eyes wide. “You mean…I did that?”
“Well, it wasn’t me,” Camila reasons. “Unless there’s another witch hiding in the bushes.”
Hunter narrows his eyes. “Willow? Is that you?” He calls.
Camila laughs, and Hunter blushes. He didn’t think he was making a joke.
“Come on, baby,” she says, climbing to her feet. “Let’s get you home. It’s freezing out here.”
“Wait,” he says, and carefully plucks the flower stalk near the root. “Here. This is for you.”
She smiles lovingly and catches him in a side hug. “Thank you, mijo. I always loved daffodils.”
They walk out of the cemetery, Hunter dwarfed in the big jacket, Camila’s arm wrapped around his shoulders.
Back at the Owl House, chaos ensues. Well, more chaos than usual. Which is really saying something.
Darius and Raine are on opposite ends of the couch, and Lilith is on the floor in front of them, paging frantically through tome after tome.
“And that’s when I’ll come in, wearing this,” says Eda, waggling her fingers from underneath an enormous skeleton that she somehow stitched into her clothes. “This’ll really wow Bumpy-Poo’s socks off.”
Eberwolf pops up from behind the couch, chewing on what looks like a human femur. Who knows where he got that.
“Ugh, this is not going to work, Edalyn,” says Darius, pressing his hand into his forehead in exasperation. “Bump can smell your scams a mile away.”
“Maybe he needs to study independently for a while, to figure out how his new magic works,” Raine suggests. “I can take a few hours a week to work with him.”
“Independent study is the last thing that boy needs,” Darius retorts. “He’s spent enough time alone for a whole lifetime. He needs to be with his friends.”
“Do you think Bump would accept a potion as a spell?” says Lilith. “This one is pretty simple, and I have all the ingredients already.”
“No, he won’t. This is a waste of time,” Darius snaps. “I’ll just blackmail him.”
“Oh, right, and there’s no way that could go wrong,” Eda glares.
In the kitchen, Willow paces back and forth as Gus watches her anxiously from his own perch on a stool. The muffled voices of the adults arguing drift through the room. King sits at the window, peering out into the gloomy darkness.
“What’s taking them so long?” Willow huffs. “It’s been almost two hours since Camila messaged that she found him. Something must be wrong.”
“Willow, calm down,” says Gus. “I’m sure everything is fine. Camila probably just wanted to talk with him a little bit. And maybe they went to get food. Hunter never even ate his lunch.”
“This is my fault,” Willow laments. “I shouldn’t have let him go.”
“Don’t blame yourself. You did everything you could.”
“I guess,” Willow whispers, and sits down next to Gus, putting her head in her hands. He pats her comfortingly.
“Do you think we should call Amity? Or Luz again?” says King nervously.
“Amity is busy helping her dad hunt down feral abomatons, and Luz is at her friend’s sleepover,” Gus says. “We shouldn’t worry them. Besides, if anyone can talk some sense into him—”
“It’s Hunter!” shouts King.
“Well, I was going to say, it’s Camila, but—”
“No, it’s Hunter!” He presses his little paw against the window. In a flash, Willow and Gus appear beside him, pressing their own faces against the window.
Out of the gloom appear Camila and Hunter, coming from the direction of the portal. Over his ripped uniform, Hunter wears an oversized brown leather jacket, the sleeves so long they completely engulf his hands.
Gus and Willow nearly knock down the door in their hurry to get outside.
“Hunter!” Willow says, reaching a hand for him, but stopping before she makes contact. “Are you…okay?”
“I’m okay,” he says, and steps forward so she can reach him, his eyes crinkling up in that smile she’s come to love. She pulls him into an embrace, both their cheeks blushing pink.
“I’m so sorry for running away, and making you worry,” Hunter says, pulling back. “Me and Camila talked it out. I think everything is going to be okay.”
“Good, because Eda’s plan to get you into our class involved an illegal amount of explosives and several counts of child endangerment,” says Gus.
“Isn’t any amount of explosives an illegal amount?” says King.
“Oh. Oh, no.” Hunter’s face falls, and then cracks open again as he catches sight of the crowd in the open doorway.
“Eda! Darius!”
“Kid, you’re okay!” Eda cheers, and sweeps him up into a hug. She sets him down and whistles admiringly. “Nice jacket.”
“Yes, indeed,” Darius adds, and Eberwolf nods on his shoulder. “I love the style. Vintage, but the cool factor is timeless.”
“Thanks,” he says, ears flushing pink. “Camila gave it to me.” He glances at Camila, who’s surreptitiously wiping her eyes.
“It was Manny’s,” she says.
Hunter looks stricken. “Are you…sure you want me to have it?”
“Of course, mijo. It's exactly what he would have wanted. He would be so proud if he knew you,” Camila says with a fond look in her eyes. “Just, make sure to wear it next time you decide to spend hours in the freezing cold.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Hunter salutes. The long sleeve flops into his face.
“We’re all glad you’re okay, Hunter,” says Raine. “But…what are you going to do about your class?”
“Yeah, I’m ready,” says Eda, whipping out a stick of dynamite. “Bumpy-Poo is going to regret messing with the Owl Lady’s kid. Again.”
Please put that away,” says Gus, as everyone leans away—everyone except for Raine, who’s trying to hide their adoring look behind one hand, and failing.
“Boring.” Eda tucks the dynamite back into her hair.
“You don’t have to do that,” says Hunter. He pushes up his sleeves and kneels. “Stand back.”
He closes his eyes and presses his hands into the earth. He takes a deep breath in. As he exhales, long and slow, the red grass begins to glow golden in a small semicircle around him. A clump of yellow flowers unravels in the center of the patch, growing to knee height in moments.
Gasps, oohs and ahhs sound around him. Willow claps her hands together. “Hunter! You can do plant magic!”
“Yeah,” he grins. “Well, so far I can only make one type of plant. But I’m sure I can learn to make more!”
“I’m sure too.” She hugs him again.
“Yeah, with Willow helping out, you’ll be an expert in no time,” says Gus, winking at Hunter. He blushes over Willow’s shoulder.
“Aw, come here,” says Eda, wrapping all of them up in a hug. “Now, who wants a cup of Raine’s homemade spider chili?”
“I do!” Willow and Gus take off toward the kitchen, followed by King.
“Oh…oh, spider chili,” says Camila, a little too loudly. “That sounds…just…so…interesting!”
Hunter smiles at her as the rest of the crowd files back into the Owl House.
“Um…Camila? Thank you. For everything.”
Her returning smile is soft as she hugs him again. “Of course, mijo. I’m here for you, whenever you need, okay?”
“Okay.”
From the house, Eda says loudly, “ooh, the hairy ones are my favorite!”
“That being said,” Camila shudders, “I hope you don’t mind if I go home and finish my human sandwich. With no spiders on it.”
“That’s…probably a good idea.”
She waves as she heads back down the path. “Call me tomorrow after school, okay? I can’t wait to hear how it goes.”
“Okay,” he calls back, waving. “Thanks, Camila.”
She disappears down the path as raucous laughter sounds from the Owl House and the stars wheel overhead.
For just a moment, he’s alone again.
He takes a deep breath, safe and warm inside Manny’s leather coat.
Then Willow’s voice calls from inside, “Hunter, come on! Eda’s going to eat all the good ones!”
“Be right there!” He calls back, and leans down to pluck a yellow flower. Daffodil, Camila called it. What a perfect name for such a sweet little plant.
Inside, Hunter hangs the coat on a hook, next to Eda’s witch’s wool, Darius’s fashionable cloak, and Willow’s flier derby jacket. He sits next to Willow and hands her the daffodil, his ears pink. She smells it, her face open and joyful. Lilith digs through the cabinets to find a vase and Raine magicks some water inside. King and Eberwolf fight over the pot of chili; Gus and Hooty put on some celebratory human music; Eda and Darius whisper-argue about who gets to attend Hunter’s parent-teacher conference.
They eat, and talk, and laugh a lot, and the night stretches on and on.
Everything is going to be okay.