Braiding Sweetgrass Book Novels & Stories

I hold her, letting the grief run through both of us, until at last she surrenders, her magic threading into mine, allowing me to guide it as if I am braiding hair. The third day is almost easy. The earth yields, green returns in the moss and the first ferns, sap seeps from wounded bark and turns gold in the sun. The light itself has changed—brighter, clearer, more forgiving. I taste it in the air, rain and pine, something ancient and electric.

she hissed at me. Through my labored breaths, I grabbed a handful of green grass before she could kick me again. ‘For those who grow, there will be wilt.’ I chanted inside my head. I focused my mind on the grass in my hand. My energy flowed through every cell, down to the roots. Like an extension of my will, the grass roots stretched through the soil and burst forth from the ground. The fibrous roots twisted together like serpents, coiling around Lorraine’s legs.

​The dawn of the thirty-eighth year of the sovereignty arrived with a shift in the gravitational feel of the university grounds. Standing upon the crystalline deck of the Medical Conservatory, I observed the morning light as it moved through the atmosphere. The sky had transitioned into a deep, liquid sapphire that seemed to hum with the collective intent of the Eighth Peak. Below, the silver groves had matured into a massive, interconnected network of light that pulsed in perfect synchronicity with the planetary heartbeat. The roots of the trees were no longer merely anchoring the soil; they were conducting the rhythmic vitality of the guest directly into the bedrock of the Eastern region.

A braid you cannot unbraid without breaking strands. The dark lightened by degrees until I could see a floor. Not a floor. Pine needles again. The clearing? No. A clearing. A cousin to my moon place, but rougher, stripped. No standing stone. No blessed bowl. A stump sat in the center, cut clean long ago and bled out sap until its core hardened. Across it lay a thing like a jawbone with teeth too long for any deer or hog. I didn’t want to touch it. I wanted to touch it very badly.

In that moment, I became one with the spirits of nature, connected to the intricate web of life that spanned the world. The voices of the spirits whispered in my ears, their guidance leading me deeper into the heart of the Sacred Tree. I felt the presence of the Divine Essence—a pulsating energy that resonated with the love in my heart. With trembling hands, I reached out and touched the essence, feeling its warmth enveloping me.

“Maybe we aren’t supposed to.” And then it happens, like the first time in the clearing but stronger now. The trees around us bend just slightly inward, their branches whispering secrets in languages we weren’t meant to understand. The ground vibrates beneath our feet, the symbol from the book burns behind my eyes, etched in gold and crimson. Our magic doesn’t just move around with one another, it dances. Light shimmers between us—faint, like the morning light through a fog—but I can see it. Feel it. It pulls at the edge of reality, tugging the world apart just enough that I can sense the forest beneath the forest. The hidden layer, the ancient thread.

And then, suddenly, I’m transported into a vivid memory, watching my life unfold in front of me like a movie. As the events unfolded in front of my eyes, I felt my knees buckle and my vision blur. The iridescent pearl, which had been the center of our attention, vanished. Selene sensed my distress and pulled me down onto the soft, plush, rainbow-colored grass. The scent of fresh flowers and dewy grass filled my nose, and the vivid colors of the grass and the surrounding trees seemed to dance and blur together. The gentle rustling of leaves and chirping of birds provided a soothing background to the chaos that had just occurred. As I sat there, trying to regain my composure, I felt a sense of

“I promise not to let even the strand of my hair dirty the book. I really just wanted to read.” “...” “M-Madame?” “Then can you wait until I am freed? I shall give you a book of mine. Please cherish it then.” Teary eyed, Billie hugged me. “I promise I will never let the others play with the book. You can trust me, I am a clean freak.” “Clean what? Where have you learned those?” “There’s this really cool sister at the orphanage and she speaks so cool like that.” Wait does she know that filth- no, that girl who speaks weirdly? What was her name again?

I should have slept too—my eyelids felt heavy as lead—but my mind wouldn’t stop running, replaying the book’s cryptic words and the weight of what we were about to do. I ran a hand over the page again, stopping at the illustration of the Purifying Grass. Silver tips, white stem. It looked delicate, harmless even. But if it could do what the book said… I closed it slowly and stood, stretching the stiffness out of my arms. My legs ached, but I walked toward the cave entrance. Outside, the air was cooler. The moon had climbed higher, bathing the treetops in pale light. Tomorrow night, it would reach its peak.

A spell of growth and renewal, of harnessing the very essence of nature itself. Keeping the book steady in one hand, I stretch out the other before me, my palm open to the sky as I begin to chant the words written on the page. The syllables roll off my tongue, unfamiliar yet somehow felt as if they were coming from within me, as I close my eyes and focus on my actions. At first, there is nothing but the sound of my own voice echoing through the woods, carried on the breeze like a whispered promise. But then, I sense a shift in the air, a subtle stirring of energy that ripples through the earth beneath my feet.