Becoming a wizard’s apprentice was easy, Viola mused, mincing her way through the pumpkin patch, machete at the ready. You just needed to be a bit on the bright side, or perhaps reasonably ambitious, or failing that, to have helpful parents with a bit of coin for a bribe.
But to be a successful apprentice – one with prospects of becoming a journeyman wizard, traveling amongst the villages handing out cures and protections, helping the occasional princeling or peasant girl with a destiny – well, you needed something more. Something she appeared to be lacking. Frankly, she’d expected a lot more poetry memorization and stew-making.
She had definitely not been expecting the garden. Tending to magical herbs, sure, but this was too much. She heard a rustling sound behind her and spun around. Dammit, the leggy radishes had snuck up on her again. And then, as she was backing up, she tripped over the invisible beans.
As she scrambled to her feet, she could hear the faint shur-shur-shur of laughter. One day she would figure out which plant was always laughing at her, and she was going to turn it into soup. And not even magic soup.