Perception is a strange thing when you're a plant, but your perception grows hazy and suddenly you're blurring past your hometown so fast that the structures on either side are mere suggestions. You look down, trying to gauge where you are. You see a new pot, much smaller than the old one. Your toes vanish into the soil as they did before, though you feel weak.
"You hold on down there," says a voice—the same one that attacked you not long ago. The one Marissa said would help you? "I've got plenty of fertilizer, just give your roots time to grow. I'll get you in something bigger when I get home.
The air blasting all around you isn't the result of some aircraft, though at your size it does feel just as intense. You're in the front basket of a bike, and the girl is peddling you both. The witch gardener rides a bike.
"Why couldn't you just leave me at the shop?" You ask. But she doesn't hear you, or else she just doesn't think it's worth replying. You drop down to the soil, wrapping your legs around your knees and waiting for it all to be over.
There are people out there, as gigantic as the girl, as Marissa. But despite the rush of air confusing you, it doesn't seem to be bothering them. At least if there's one mercy, it's that none of them notice how obviously person-shaped you are,
Finally the nightmare ends, and your escort slows. She pulls up in front of an ordinary looking house, in the middle of well-off neighborhood. She hops off the bike, walking you past an expensive car and around the back.
"My parents don't know how talented I am," she explains in a hushed whisper. "I can't bring you inside. But you'll like the greenhouse better anyway."
"I'm supposed to be human," you say. You don't bother trying to be quiet, not when you're so much smaller than she is anyway. You're not entirely convinced she can even hear you. "You should be changing me back."
Her face wrinkled at the suggestion, and she shook her head. "That's not what I'm good at. Making people grow better, making plants grow better... I've only ever been able to make one of those into the other. Going back is..." she shook her head.
Your whole world shakes under you as she lifts you into her arms, settling the bike alongside the house. She hurries into a spacious backyard. It's so bumpy and disorienting you don't get much look at it, grunting in pain at the rough treatment. You hear a squeaking door behind you, the air becomes much more comfortable.
Warmth envelops you, and the smell of so many other growing things. You're fairly certain you can make out voices, though you're not sure from where. The ceiling overhead is entirely clear, letting sunlight stream down over you. It's wonderful, enough that you briefly forget your pain.
"Here we go," she settles you into a sunny spot near the wall, beside a shiny silver spicket. "Marissa said I had to help her plant grow, and I did. But there was enough roots for someone who wasn't too big... that's you."
She pulls over a rolling chair, hopping up onto her knees and looking at you with a critical eye. "Stand up, strawberry. You need lots of light if you're gonna live."
You obey—not out of any loyalty to your kidnapper, of course. But if she wants you to live, then at least you can take her advice. You stretch, finally lowering the arm over your chest. You're not much older than she is, so it's not like you've got much to hide. Anywhere, really. That still stings.
"I have a name," you say. "I told you already, remember?"
She shrugs one shoulder. "Yeah, it didn't fit. I'll just call you... Berry. Don't worry, you're the only one in the whole greenhouse. You won't get confused with anyone else."
"What's your name?" you ask. "You haven't told me yet."
She grins, apparently appreciating the question. "You're smart for a berry. I'm Amaranth." She reaches over your head, grabbing a few things from a shelf that's so far away your eyes can't focus on it properly. She runs a tiny tube down into the pot below you, then makes a few notes on a scrap of paper. "Alright, Berry. you're semi-annual, do you know what that means?"
You shake your head. It takes effort—with the sun on you, and the motion finally stopped, what you really want to do is relax. You've had enough excitement, and she obviously isn't going to be the one to change you back. Maybe once Marissa hears about you, she'll come and do something.
"You only live one season long. I don't know how long that means, exactly. Magic plants are all different. But it's probably not more than a few months. Do you only want to live a few months, Berry?"
You shake your head vigorously. "Change it! Maybe you could make me something better? Even if it's not changing me back."
Amaranth considers this a moment. "I planned on getting strawberries from your cousin at Marissa's anyway. But before I can do anything with you, I need you to grow stronger."
She takes her scrap of paper, taping it to the front of your pot. You don't have a hope of reading it from your current angle. Then she's turning away, walking back to the door.
You yell for her, but she doesn't hear, and the door bangs shut behind her, leaving you alone.
You have some time to rest. The little pipe keeps the soil under your feet nice and wet, and the sun is plentiful. It's a nice place, even if you'd rather just go home to your normal life.
Time is a strange blur to you after that. The nights pass in a blink, leaving you with ample time to soak in the sunlight in-between.
You might be frighteningly short-lived, but you're also growing up fast. You find your pot feeling more cramped as the time passes, your roots stretching to fill it. You rise up bigger, with sprigs and leaves expanding into the space around you. Many of these are soon covered in little flowers.
You aren't even sure how much time goes by before you see someone else. But it isn't Amaranth, it's...