The next lesson Vell taught took place in one of the rooms, repurposed since they had no greenhouse.
From now on, this room would no longer be used as a sleeping space.
Unlike the cozy kitchen, the room was stripped bare, with all furniture removed except for a single table.
Vell stood with his arms crossed, turning to Sonder, who waited beside him.
"Where is she?" he asked.
Just then, today's student arrived. The botany witch entered, brushing stray curls from her face. She looked more disheveled than the others, her robe stained with soil.
"You're late," Vell remarked.
She shrugged, unbothered. "Had to finish something."
"I hope you didn't tire yourself out."
"No way. I'm totally ready for this."
Vell motioned toward a wooden table lined with potted herbs and seedlings. Unlike the carefully measured powders and tinctures from the alchemy lesson, these 'ingredients' were still growing, their roots settling into the rich, dark soil.
"What do all great botanists have in common?" he asked.
The witch hummed, examining the plants with interest. "Green thumbs?"
Vell exhaled through his nose. "Patience. Observation. And understanding."
She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "What's the test?"
Vell picked up two identical sprigs of leaves and held them out. "Tell me which one is safe and which one is toxic."
She reached for them but hesitated, pulling back. "No way. I'm not touching those."
Leaning in, she studied the leaves. At first glance, they were indistinguishable: same size, same color, same serrated edges. She inhaled deeply, picking up a faint herbal scent, but it was impossible to tell if that was coming from the sprigs or the plants around them.
"How am I supposed to tell? They look exactly the same," she muttered.
"And yet, one will make you very sick," Vell said.
She frowned, glancing toward the table where the parent plants sat. One of them looked just slightly different—its stem a little paler, its leaves positioned more erratically.
Narrowing one eye, she pointed. "That one. It's off. It doesn't sit quite right with me."
"Correct. That's false chamomile—similar to the real thing, but it causes nausea if ingested." He set the sprigs down. "In nature magic, mistaking one plant for another can mean the difference between healing and poisoning someone, living or dying."
She grinned, pleased with herself. "So, what now?"
Vell gestured to the potted plants behind them. "Now, we train your instincts. You're going to care for these plants, study how they grow, and learn their properties firsthand."
The witch groaned. "You mean gardening."
"Hands-on experience," Vell corrected. "The best way to understand a plant's magic is to raise it yourself. By the end of this, you'll know their needs, their behaviors, and how to harvest them properly. You'll also be able to tell, at a glance, which ones are safe."
For the next hour, Vell guided her through the basics: assessing soil quality, pruning correctly, and detecting magical traits in different species. She grumbled at first, but soon she was lost in the work, her fingers tracing leaves with a familiarity that only someone who had worked with plants before could have.
At one point, Vell caught her murmuring to a sprout, her voice barely audible.
"Are you talking to the plants?" he asked, reminded of how Sonder did the same from time to time. He gazed at the girl for a moment.
The witch didn't look up. "Of course I am. How else are they supposed to know they're doing a good job?"