Lacking Words To Sprout

20260413

Prompt from DailyPrompt.com

Hollis was not surprised when a hooded crow landed on the branch she was sitting on, nor when it spoke with her grandfather’s voice. “Hollis, what are you doing out here? Everyone’s waiting at the Circle-”
“I… uh…” Hollis pressed her face against the tree trunk. She’d had excuses ready. Been practising them for days. Yet now, when the time came, they scattered to the winds and left her tongue knotted with shame.
A crow’s sigh is a funny sound, but Hollis couldn’t muster a smile. In fact she wilted as Grantie mused “I did think it was strange that you were refusing any help studying for the Pact. Were you planning on dodging it this whole time?”
“I-I…”
The crow hopped closer, watching her with sombre beady eyes. “Holly… please. Talk to me.”
“I can’t do it!” Hollis wailed, doubt and shame and self-hate bubbling up. “I still can’t read all the words in the Pact Prayer, I get muddled and lost and I’ll mess it up and the Spirits will be angry and-”
“Sh sh shhh!” The crow hopped forward and made as if to try and hug her, then faltered as Grantie remembered the body he was borrowing had wings. It settled back and rubbed its beak on her arm instead. That was probably the crow’s idea. And… it did help. A little.
Hollis tried to sniffle back the tears, but having finally gotten out they weren’t minded to be bottled again.
“Well. It’s too late now, but we can help you memorise the Prayer in time for the next Procession.”
“Won’t…” Hollis hiccupped. “Won’t the Spirits be offended, though? If I’m not using the book?”
“Tsk! Holly, you are being entirely silly.” The crow gently pecked her. “Our family has been Communing with this land since long before anyone invented writing. Why would the Spirits be offended by you doing things the traditional way, hm?”
“Are you sure?”
“Hollis Amber Heatherkin!”
Hearing her full name made her automatically sit up, blinking away tears to meet his gaze squarely.
“I know not being able to read makes things harder.” Grantie’s tone was both stern and understanding. The two usually contrasting messages glued together by love. “It’s certainly a useful skill. However, it is only one skill for a druid, and an optional skill at that. The only person who thinks not being able to read will hold you back is you.”
Another gentle peck to the arm for emphasis.
“And if you had only told us your fears when we asked, rather than pretending everything was fine, we could have helped you get ready for this Procession. Never mind, the Wheel always turns. Speaking of which, I will tell everyone not to prepare for the Pact, and instead we shall hold a usual communing session. Why don’t you come back and join in?”
“B-b-but everyone will be disappointed in me…”
“Yes, they will.” The crow’s wings rustled in a shrug. “That’s another reason you should have been honest. But they’ll get over it. Especially if you apologise for being silly and stringing everyone along and wasting the preparations.”
“I will!”
“Good lass.” The crow rubbed its beak on her arm. “I’ll tell everyone you’re coming, then.”
“Alright. I, um, I’ll hurry back.”
The crow bobbed its head in a nod, hopped back a little… and was abruptly just a crow again, Grantie’s presence vanishing as peacefully as it would’ve settled onto the messenger who answered his call for a swift pairs of eyes to search for his errant granddaughter with.
While any druid could send their mind to ride upon a willing creature, Grantie was famed for it. Ever since she was a child Hollis had wanted to experience that magic herself, seeing and hearing and smelling and feeling the world through very different senses.
Would memorising work? It was such a big book. Surely she’d never be a proper druid without being able to read. Yet no matter how hard she tried, it was like the letters frolicked on the page, refusing to settle down so her eyes could make sense of them.
Her little brother Briar could now read better than she could, despite being five years younger! That was when the doubt really set in.
The crow cawed. Tilting its head one way then another to peer at her.
“Alright, alright, I’m going.” Hollis stuck her tongue out at it, then started retracing her path down the tree.
Better not keep everyone waiting. The Communing would already be starting late because of her. And… though still not having taken the Pact she wouldn’t have the full connection, the deep calm of being in the Circle, surrounded by everyone else, feeling the heartbeat of the world brushing against her awareness… it sounded really good, right now.
“I’ll keep studying.” She mumbled. “And, and maybe ask people to help me. I mean, Briar keeps offering, and I know he’s not trying to rub it in, I just… ugh!”
She sighed. Rested her forehead against the tree for a moment, letting its placid nature soothe some of her fretting.
Its planty awareness tickled against her own. Too far away, and too indistinct, for her to be able to understand what it was trying to tell her. That’s what the Pact was for. Bridging that gap. She’d spent her whole life waiting to turn sixteen so she could finally become a proper druid. Now she was scared she’d never manage it.
Our family has been Communing with this land since LONG before anyone invented writing.
While Grantie’s words didn’t silence the fear and doubts swirling in her mind, they did give her something to cling to. It would be silly not to even try, right? You’d never grow if you never sprouted. Even an acorn knew that.
So. Run home. Apologise to everyone. Tomorrow… ask for help studying the Pact Prayer. For the next dance in the Procession.

Prompt was “Your protagonist is avoiding a cultural tradition that they are expected to be taking part in.”