Finally life flickered back into Rowan’s eyes. “Well?” Finn asked. “How’s it feeling today?”

“Tired. It’s been fighting off an aphid infestation for weeks. And now that it’s summer, the spruces have been hogging all the afternoon light.” She smiled. “This tree is … What’s the word?”

“Ornery?”

“Yeah! Ornery.” Rowan laughed. “They all are, kinda.”

“That’s wild…” Finn shook her head in astonishment. “Can we do another?”

“Sure.”

The next tree Rowan “talked” to was a silver fir. It was less ornery than the maple, but still had some strong opinions about the family of voles burrowing between its roots. The aspen next to it didn’t mention the voles, but had similar feelings about the woodpecker that was making Swiss cheese out of its trunk. The Pacific yew, on the other hand, had no particular grievances to air. It was just kicking back, basking in the sunlight and sipping on groundwater like its roots were curly straws and the earth was a coconut.

For Finn, the forest came alive in a way it hadn’t before. Every twitch, sway, and shimmy felt like a form of sign language. The hissssssss that she’d come to think of simply as wind was now a slip-into-a-hot-bath sigh at the end of a long day. It was magical, and Finn needed a little magic. The previous day’s barrage of heartbreaking memories had left her feeling drained, but the forest had restored her, the forest and her new friend.

“Does your dad know you can do this?” Finn asked as Rowan brushed the dirt off her feet.

“Of course,” Rowan said, as if it should have been obvious. “Doesn’t yours?”

Finn shook her head. “My foster dad just thinks I’m spacey, which is kind of true.” A pause. “But if your dad knows, then why are you sneaking out here alone?”

“Because he doesn’t like it.”

“He doesn’t like you talking to trees?”

“No. He’s fine with that. It’s just … Forget it. It’s stupid.”

“I won’t think it’s stupid. A minute ago, I thought I was turning into a tree. I’m the last person you should feel stupid around.”

Rowan had a wary look in her eye. She reminded Finn of her sister, distrustful, easily spooked. “Okay,” she said finally, biting her lip. “But you have to promise not to tell my dad I was out here.”

“I promise,” Finn said, hoping she wouldn’t have to break it.

Rowan averted her eyes. “He doesn’t like us looking for her.”

“Who?”

“Mom.”

“Your mom? But—” Finn let the question hang.

Rowan continued, “I have this feeling like she’s not really gone. Like part of her might have gotten left behind or something. In one of the trees.”