[color=8dc73f][h1][i][u]Myrtle Gardner - Wallƒlower[/u][/i][/h1][/color]
[h3]First day of October[/h3]
Seven days.

That's how long it's been since she triggered. The wounds were still fresh and pained her with every movement. The bruises would be with her for months. To be honest, it was a miracle that Myrtle had managed to survive the ordeal.

She struggled to keep her story straight when talking to the mountain rescue crew, the paramedics, and her father. Lying didn't come naturally but she figured it would be for the best. Most powered individuals had a secret identity, both in fiction and real life. Bad people could come after her or her family if anybody found out.

The story she told was that just one stray coyote attacked. She fought it off with thrown rocks and a large stick. But in truth, she was attacked by an entire pack of them. All ravenous, desperate for a meal. They had her pinned down, jaws wide open and snarling and ready to lunge for her jugular. 

But something amazing happened-- Myrtle, of all people, triggered! She saw some incomprehensible massive creature-perhaps a hallucination brought on by the pain- and when she reached out to touch it, roots and vines shot out all around her, spearing the wild dogs and weaving a thick, thorny fence. Yelping and injured, the pack of coyotes ran off, leaving Myrtle cold and dying. But lucky for her, a fellow hiker wasn't too far behind.

Seven days since then Myrtle had moved out of her father's place and found a cheap apartment closer to her job in Manchester. It was tiny, and it was in a sketchy neighborhood, but that was kind of on purpose. She was done dreaming about being a hero. She was going to be one.

During the past week practiced using her new-found power in nearby parks and forests when nobody was around. It wasn't easy, but with time she could understand the strange sensations she was getting from around her. She could feel the light shining, the soothing drops of rain on leaves, and scorching heat on hot autumn days. And if she really focused, she could feel the movements of deer in the forest or even the munching of caterpillars on leaves--plants really don't like that.

Myrtle was exhausted from working at the post office, but she didn't let that stop her. The girl brought out her old sewing machine worked hard and long. Several hours of work later she had a costume-- not a great looking one, but still, a costume. It was made of soft, breathable cotton fabric in several shaves of green and brown, with a raised artificial pink rose sewn on. She had skintight green leggings, brown boots, and green and brown gardeners gloves. Myrtle stuffed a dull green utility belt with a variety of seeds, and reluctantly, a knife. 

Her heart race and her body trembled as she dressed in her new costume. Piece by piece, she put it together over a pain tank and short shorts: leggings, shirt, boots, gloves, simple eye mask, and finally: a wonderful flowing green cape with tatters on the end, reminiscent of cascading leaves. A smile spread across her face and she closed her eyes, a wonderful feeling of euphoria filling her whole body. A hero! She was going to be a hero!

As the last light of the setting sun receded from view, Myrtle stumbled her way out the window and down the fire escape...

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