Broken Warrior (The Weavers Circle 1)

“Can I heal people?” he asked.

She shook her head sadly. “No.”

Clay did as she instructed and when his palms touched the ground, he felt the very energy of the earth throbbing against his skin. The power of nature filled him with wonder. It was so big, but he was also a part of it—that living, beating existence that flowed from the ground into his body. He stared at the wilting flower and willed it to live. Nothing happened.

Flo kneeled next to him and reached out one finger to stroke the petals. “Open yourself up to the power inside you. Imagine it flowing out and into the flower. I’ll help for now.”

Clay closed his eyes and focused on the ball of energy in his chest. He imagined letting it trickle through his arms and into his fingers as he pressed them into the earth. When he opened his eyes, the flower stood tall and healthy, and all the grass around it had grown a good inch. It was green and soft against his palms. He felt the pulses of life in each tiny blade. The warmth that spread through his chest felt languid and welcome. Strangely familiar. He looked at Baer, who stared at the flower in amazement before he cocked his head to the side and grimaced.

“What do you hear?” Clay asked.

“Some of the animals—mostly the birds—they think in pictures instead of words. Image after image flits through their brains. Food, home, and family. It’s actually beautiful.”

“And the others?”

“Nearly all of the creatures around us are searching for food. That’s it. They’re on an endless search for food and shelter.” He snorted. “Some are on a hunt for more lascivious pursuits. Springtime has them in the mood.” He rubbed the side of his head. “Oh, this is so weird.”

“You’ll have to learn to block them, or they’ll drive you crazy. But you’ll never have trouble finding rodents in the house, that sort of thing.”

Baer frowned. “This seems like an odd power to give me. What did you mean I can become them?”

Jo winked at him, then in the blink of an eye, she was no longer standing there and instead stood a beautiful, white horse. It neighed softly and walked forward to nudge Baer. He laughed and stroked his hand down the horse’s nose.

“I can do this?” he asked.

“You can,” Flo answered.

“What possible purpose would this serve?”

“All kinds of purposes. To run fast, to get into small areas, to escape if needed. To defend and protect. You can get animals to help you in different situations.”

“Will I understand Ruby?”

Ruby had stayed with Dane, who’d been feeding her.

“You will. Why don’t you try to change into a dog? Just create a clear picture of the animal in your head, tap into the power, and let it flow out of you.”

Baer closed his eyes and stood there for a long time until finally, he disappeared and a Labrador retriever stood in his place. He yipped and pranced around. Clay imagined the good-natured man was laughing in his dog form. He took off running and circled the clearing a few times, faster and faster, barking up a storm.

“While he’s getting used to his legs and eyesight in that form, why don’t you work on your power again?” Flo said as her sister turned into her human form.

“What should I do?”

Flo shrugged. There was a seriousness to her tone, but her posture felt easier, lighter somehow. Maybe it was a bit of relief. “Anything you want.”

Clay put his hand on the closest oak and marveled at the pulse of life under his fingertips. He could literally feel it racing through the bark. He lifted his hand and reached up to stroke one of the leaves, noting the same life in it, though not as strong. “It’s like we’re all connected,” he whispered.

“We are. Everything is connected.”

Clay pulled off his shoes and socks, digging his bare toes into the ground. For the first time in his life, he didn’t feel that emptiness hollowing out his chest, didn’t feel like he had a missing sense of purpose. He felt a part of Earth, a part of the wonder that was life.

He spotted a vine around a tree and pointed a finger at it. As he concentrated, the vine moved and swirled higher along the tree. He made it pull away and dance in the air for a moment before he directed it off the tree and to the ground. A wave of relief washed over him. Gratitude. From the tree.

Baer barked and ran to Jo.

“You can do it,” she encouraged him. “You can turn back.”

He merely barked and sat, his doggy expression looking frustrated.

Clay held in a laugh with effort. “He can’t change back?”

Jo rubbed his head, scratching behind his ear. “He’s just having a little trouble, that’s all. He’ll do it.”