"All you need to do is change the coldest of hearts to make the world a better place," She whispered.
"You really believe that?" He questioned, looking down at her.
"Of course I do," She replied, smiling with shining eyes.
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•••
"Ash, what did you do?" Horace was first to ask.
Her eyes were wide open, terrified of her own hands and wishing she could take them off and discard them. The tree was fallen just an inch from the end of her shoe. Just a few feet away, Enoch was sprawled out after narrowly escaping the large tree falling on him. His work was fine, that would have given him even more of a reason to hate Ash.
"It's dead. Completely. Torn up from the roots and rid of its leaves." Millard called from the top of the tree, holding up a leaf that simply crumbled in his hand.
Her hands had returned to their normal pale color and she looking up she saw Hugh inching toward her as her lower lip trembled.
"So her peculiarity is killing trees?" Victor asked as he slung the axe on his shoulder. Bronwyn scoffed and whacked him on the chest, making him stumble back.
Emma, Fiona, and Miss Peregrine came running from the house, alarming Ash even more. Claire ran to grab ahold of Miss Peregrine's skirt and Fiona looked devastated at the giant poplar tree laying on the ground.
"I didn't mean to." Ash whispered to Miss Peregrine once she walked up to her.
"How about we head inside?" Miss Peregrine offered softly, placing her gloved hand on Ash's back.
Ash couldn't ignore all the stares of the other children. Glancing back at her brother, she saw him with his goggles pushed up, a concerned look on his face. She snapped her head back as tears welled up in her blue eyes. Ash thought finding her peculiarity would be a revelation, something she and the other children would enjoy. But she nearly killed one of them, and had ruined their day of fun. And she didn't even know what her peculiarity was.
The others didn't seem to know what to do with themselves. Hugh had walked over to Enoch, helping him off the ground as he brushed himself off. The two turned to watch Miss Peregrine guiding Ash, whose head was hung, into the house.
"Well, this seems like a little mishap. But it's alright, we'll just carry along. Vic, mind helping Millard out a bit, hm?" Bronwyn was first to speak up, carrying over the log to be stacked on the pile with the others. Everyone continued about their business, shouting at each other as they stacked wood together.
"Why did she kill the tree, Wyn?" Claire walked up to Bronwyn and crossed her chubby little arms.
Bronwyn squatted before Claire and scooped her up, placing her upon her broad shoulders. "Claire, you and I both know that tree will be up and running, good as new tomorrow. Want to help me with this tree?"
Enoch's brown eyes followed the girl in awe.
"So death is her thing?" He thought, gathering his tools and sitting criss crossed against a tree. Funny how the person he hated could help him out so well with his own peculiarity.
When Ash had gotten seated, Miss Peregrine handed her a few tissues and placed her arms over her shoulders.
"I know it's a scary time. But no one was hurt! And that tree will be right back up tomorrow. So don't fret, everything will be okay, my girl."
"But-but, the others won't want to play with me anymore. And my hands, they were black. I could-if I killed the tree...what if I kill a person? People aren't expendable." Ash cried, trying to scoot away from the woman.
"Come go with me, child." Miss Peregrine spoke, a soft smile resting on her thin lips.
The pair walked through the back of the house and through the forest. Ash was careful not to touch anything. She wasn't sure if just killing things was her personality, she didn't know if there was a catch, or if she just killed plants. She only knew she was terrified of herself and she would rather kill regenerative plants than people.
"We are a diverse species, Ashnar." Miss Peregrine began, to which Ash only nodded her head slowly.
"There were so many of us before word was out to the humans that there was such a thing as 'peculiars'. All of us have some purpose, some use, and many talents. We have the abilities of humans plus some. So I would say we are quite brilliant, wouldn't you, Ashnar?"
"Yeah, yeah. You all are."
"No, we are. You are just as special as the rest. I promise to work with you on this. You, my dear, are certainly not alone. You're just a little confused, is-"
"Miss, do you know that man?" Ash said suddenly, slyly pointing into the forest at the tanned skin man hobbling through.
Miss Peregrine was quick to pull Ash behind a tree, drawing her to her side as her head darted around. "Show me where he is. Did you see his eyes?"
"His eyes were grey. And he's just over there. He doesn't seem bothered by us." Miss Peregrine looked down at the girl, following her eyes to the spot she was looking at. There was no one there, but Ash could see him plainly.
He wore ragged, dirty clothes. His hair was a rat's nest and his skin hung off his bones. He looked sickly, yet harmless.
Ash walked up to him, Miss Peregrine curiously following. She cautiously approached, making sure he was able to see her and gave a small smile.
"Hello," Ash spoke softly, giving a short wave. The man's grey eyes looked glossed over as they slowly made their way to her freckled face. One bony finger slowly raised and shook before her face, making her back up.
"The field." His voice came out. It was raspy and sounded like he had swallowed dirt. "Show me to the field."
"Wha-what field, sir? Are you alright?" Ash worried. The man's hand grasped her wrist, a terribly cold and strong grasp. It formed black marks on the girls pale skin, and only then did Miss Peregrine know there was indeed a person there.
"The one I was buried in. I need to find it." Her eyes widened. She was speaking to a dead man. Her head slowly turned back to her caretaker, not sure if she should help the man.
"Ashnar, I believe you do see a man." Was all she could say. The girl was showing her a peculiarity she had never seen. In all the books she had seen, of all the ymbrynes she had talked to, there was never a mention of someone who could speak to the dead, as well as kill things herself.
Ash had singlehandedly became the figure Death, but without the hooded robe and sythe. One of the brightest and kindest souls was burdened with the tasks of the underworld. A world with heartbreak of death, tragedy surrounding her in the wisps of fog. When the night settled is when her heart would grow heaviest, for the night is for the dead, and the night is for the lonely souls that wander aimlessly.
