Evan sat down, examining his scraped leg. It wasn’t bleeding much, but it stung. He glared up at the tree. “That branch hit me when I jumped down. On purpose.”
Ava knelt beside him. “The trees do that sometimes. Here.” She scooped up a handful of soil. “Rub some dirt on it.”
He took the handful and hesitantly tried it on the scrape. It tingled. The scrape slowly faded, leaving dirty, healed skin.
“I learned that from the frogs at the pond.” Ava grabbed his hand, pulling him up. “Just remember, the frogs aren’t princes, no matter what they say.”
Author’s Note: Coaches must be from a magical place where this solution to injuries makes some kind of sense.