The next morning, Briar woke up with a sense of dread. She stared at the ceiling, willing herself to stay in bed and pretend the outside world—specifically, the world with a giant pumpkin stuck in the village fountain—didn’t exist. But she knew that wasn’t going to happen. With a groan, she dragged herself out of bed and shuffled downstairs, determined to face whatever new disaster awaited her.

When she opened the door, she was greeted by the sight of Myrtle, who was sitting on the garden bench, sipping tea and grinning like she had absolutely no worries in the world. Meanwhile, the pumpkin was still firmly lodged in the fountain, as if mocking Briar with its sheer immovability.

"Morning!" Myrtle chirped, waving a hand.

Briar glared at her. "How are you so cheerful?"

Myrtle shrugged, taking another sip of tea. "I like a challenge. And besides, the pumpkin is still here, which means we get to come up with an even better plan today!"

Briar sighed, plopping down next to her. "You’re way too excited about this."

"Come on," Myrtle said, nudging her with an elbow. "It’s not every day you get to figure out how to move a giant magical pumpkin out of a fountain. Think of it as a learning experience!"

Briar gave her a look. "I’ve had enough learning experiences to last a lifetime, thanks."

"Okay, fair," Myrtle conceded. "But we’re in this together, and I’ve got a good feeling about today. You just need a bit more confidence in your magic."

Briar huffed, rubbing her eyes. "My magic’s been nothing but trouble. The garden’s a mess, the pumpkin’s a menace, and I’m one bad spell away from turning into a vegetable myself."

Myrtle grinned. "Then it’s time to change that! We just need a new plan. Something… creative."

Briar raised an eyebrow. "Creative? You mean something more creative than a floating pumpkin?"

Myrtle nodded, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Exactly. Something bigger. Something… unexpected."

Briar’s stomach churned at the idea of anything "bigger" or "unexpected" happening with her garden, but she didn’t have much choice. The pumpkin wasn’t going anywhere on its own, and she wasn’t about to face the wrath of the village council again.

"Alright," Briar said with a sigh. "What’s the plan?"

Myrtle’s grin widened as she set her teacup down and leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Okay, hear me out. What if… we used the plants?"

Briar blinked. "The plants?"

Myrtle nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Your garden is magical, right? And it’s got a mind of its own. So why not enlist their help? We could use the vines to pull the pumpkin out of the fountain!"

Briar frowned. "I don’t know… my plants have been kind of unpredictable lately."

"Exactly!" Myrtle said, her excitement growing. "Unpredictable in a good way! They’ve got personality, remember? They’re practically a team already. All you need to do is ask them."

Briar wasn’t convinced. The last time she’d tried "asking" her plants to cooperate, they’d staged a near-rebellion. But she had to admit, Myrtle had a point. Her plants were powerful—and if she could get them to work together, maybe, just maybe, they could move the pumpkin.

Taking a deep breath, Briar stood up and faced her garden, which seemed unusually calm for the morning. The vines were coiled neatly around the fences, the flowers were blooming in perfect harmony, and even the zucchinis were quiet.

"Alright, plants," Briar said, speaking loud enough for the garden to hear her. "I need your help."

There was a soft rustling of leaves, as if the plants were whispering amongst themselves.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"I know I haven’t been the best gardener lately," Briar continued, "but if you help me with this—if you help me move that pumpkin—we’ll be even. No more chaos. No more magical mishaps. Just… teamwork."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, slowly, the vines near the garden fence began to stir. They wriggled across the ground, inching toward the fountain like curious snakes. The flowers leaned in closer, their petals shimmering in the morning light, as if listening intently.

Myrtle watched with wide eyes. "It’s working! I think they’re listening!"

Briar swallowed nervously. "Let’s hope they’re in a helpful mood."

The vines reached the edge of the fountain and began to wrap themselves around the base of the pumpkin, their green tendrils tightening like ropes. Briar held her breath as the vines tugged gently, testing the weight of the giant vegetable.

"Come on," Briar whispered, her heart pounding.

With a sudden jolt, the pumpkin shifted. The vines tugged again, this time with more force, and the pumpkin rolled slightly, dislodging itself from the fountain’s edge.

Myrtle let out a gasp of excitement. "It’s moving!"

Briar felt a surge of hope. "Keep going!"

The vines pulled harder, and the pumpkin wobbled precariously before rolling out of the fountain with a loud thud, landing on the cobblestones with a soft bounce. Briar’s eyes widened in disbelief.

They’d done it. The plants had actually moved the pumpkin.

Myrtle cheered, clapping her hands. "See? I told you! Your garden’s amazing!"

Briar, still in shock, stared at the pumpkin. "I can’t believe that worked."

But just as she was about to celebrate their victory, the vines—perhaps a little too eager to help—began to pull the pumpkin again, dragging it across the cobblestones with surprising speed.

"Wait!" Briar shouted, running after the pumpkin as it rolled toward the edge of the square. "Not so fast!"

The vines, apparently deaf to her pleas, continued to tug at the pumpkin, dragging it down the path toward the village gates. Briar sprinted after it, with Myrtle close behind, both of them shouting at the top of their lungs.

"Slow down!" Briar called. "We’re not trying to roll it out of the village!"

But the vines, now fully committed to their task, pulled the pumpkin faster and faster. By the time Briar reached the village gates, the pumpkin was careening down the hill, heading straight for the woods.

"This is getting out of hand!" Briar gasped, trying to keep up.

Myrtle, laughing despite the chaos, grabbed Briar’s arm and pulled her to a stop. "Briar, wait! Let it go!"

"Let it go?!" Briar panted, staring at the runaway pumpkin. "It’s going to destroy something!"

"Or," Myrtle said, a mischievous grin spreading across her face, "it’s going to solve your problem for you."

Briar blinked, glancing from the pumpkin to Myrtle. "What do you mean?"

"Think about it," Myrtle said, her eyes twinkling. "You don’t want the pumpkin in the village, right? And we have no idea how to get rid of it. But if the plants are pulling it into the woods… maybe they’re taking it where it belongs."

Briar frowned, watching as the pumpkin disappeared into the trees. "You think the plants are… relocating it?"

Myrtle shrugged. "Why not? Your plants are smart. Maybe they know where the pumpkin needs to go."

Briar hesitated. It sounded ridiculous—absurd, even—but then again, so was everything else that had happened with her garden. Maybe Myrtle was right. Maybe the plants did know what they were doing.

"Alright," Briar said finally. "Let’s see where they take it."

Together, Briar and Myrtle followed the path the vines had carved through the woods, their footsteps crunching softly on the forest floor. The air was cool and damp, and the trees loomed overhead like silent sentinels, casting long shadows across the ground.

After a short walk, they found the pumpkin nestled in a small clearing, surrounded by towering oak trees. The vines had stopped moving, their task apparently complete, and the pumpkin sat peacefully in the center of the clearing, as if it had always belonged there.

Briar stared at it, her mouth hanging open. "It’s… perfect."

Myrtle grinned. "Told you. The plants knew what they were doing."

Briar let out a long breath, the tension finally leaving her shoulders. The pumpkin, which had caused so much chaos in her life, now seemed almost serene, resting in the quiet embrace of the forest. It was as if the plants had found the perfect spot for it—a place where it could exist without causing any more trouble.

Myrtle walked over to the pumpkin and patted its side. "Good job, plants. You really outdid yourselves."

Briar chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief. "I can’t believe they moved it all the way out here."

Myrtle shrugged. "Hey, when you’ve got magical plants, anything’s possible."

Briar glanced around the clearing, her eyes lingering on the vines that had now retreated back into the trees. For the first time in a long while, she felt a sense of peace. Her garden might have been chaotic, her magic unpredictable, but somehow, everything had worked out in the end.

"So," Myrtle said, turning to Briar with a grin. "What’s next? You think the plants have any other surprises up their sleeves?"

Briar smiled, shaking her head. "I think I’ve had enough surprises for one day."

As they made their way back to the village, Briar couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of accomplishment. Sure, the pumpkin had caused chaos, and sure, her magic was still a little unpredictable, but she was starting to get the hang of it. Slowly but surely, she was learning to trust her magic—and her garden—one step at a time.

And if that meant dealing with the occasional giant vegetable… well, she supposed she could live with that.