It's several days before Miranda does come calling. When she does Natalya finds her first.

"Donna has you trained well."

"Donna can't speak for herself so I wanted to set the record straight-"

Mother Miranda nods, "I hope you do, Alcina is prone to exaggeration. So, what did happen? Don't lie to me and this may turn out in your favor."

"The giant brought dinner. I heard her come in and I knew her to be aggressive. Now I know she's hyper aggressive. So I took the meat tenderizer and threw it at her face because she irritated and threatened me. She slashed at me. The wooden rod of my arm stopped me from being killed. I hit the wall so hard I was concussed. My vision tunneled and I blacked out. I'll admit, I don't know what happened after that but Donna got her out of the house somehow and took me upstairs where she sewed my shoulder."

For Natalya it's like giving a debrief of how the mission went. Granted seeing Miranda again she'd like to carry out untold acts of violence against the woman for more reasons than she can count.

Miranda wears two masks. One is the golden mask. The other is her face. Not even a microexpression slips through.

"Mother Miranda," Donna says, Angie on her arm.

"Donna. Leave us, this is a family matter," Miranda replies.

Rather than listen, Natalya lingers. She glares at Miranda.

"I said go."

"No. You've manipulated Donna all her life. I'm not going to stand by and watch it happen."

"Fine."

With only some warning Miranda's shadow tendril wraps around Natalya's neck and forces her to her knees. As the woman's hand scrambles desperately to try to get a hold.

"Mother Miranda-"

"Silence."

Silence is never the problem with Donna. She is always silent. So are the tree roots that creep up through the floor and seize Miranda like a snake, ensnaring her the same way she has Natalya.

Mother Miranda releases Natalya but the branches don't retreat. She tears and slashes them off where they twitch and crumple on the floor.

"I don't know how or why," Miranda's cutting gaze falls on Natalya, "But your power is growing. The plants around your home are beginning to respond to your thoughts, not just the flowers."

Donna's hands shake. Beneath her veil she's terrified.

"With your mental state plants responding to you will be dangerous. Don't hurt the others. Perhaps practice by not hurting your new plaything."

Natalya is still kneeling on the floor rubbing her throat. She's not too weak to glare back with equal contempt for the witch as she leaves. Once Miranda is gone the pain sinks in and so does the realization.

"You can control plants?"

"It's new," Donna murmurs. Slowly she holds out her hand, "Come with me."

With Natalya's sleeve in her hand Donna leads the way to her work room. Natalya has noticed she's the most confident here of anywhere in the house.

Donna picks at her veil and sleeves.

"The flowers, the yellow ones. They, make people see things. They hallucinate. But only, if, I make them. The flowers listen, to me."

Natalya nods, "Because of the mold?"

Donna nods back.

"So now it's not just the flowers, it's plants in general?"

"Apparently," Donna murmurs.

"That's really cool," Natalya smiles. She scratches the back of her neck, "I bet the look on her face was great. She must've been shocked."

Beneath the veil Donna giggles. Natalya cracks a smile, "Do you, want to take the veil off?"

The silence is very, very fragile. Judging by the tension this could easily go well, or blow up in her face. So Nataly keeps her voice as genuine and gentle as possible.

"I liked seeing your face. You're really pretty." Internally she's kicking herself for that lovely, childish choice of words but it seems to tip the scales in her favor.

Donna's fingers pluck at the fabric, "Maybe."

At dinner Natalya has cooked some unidentified meat and made biscuits from a quick mix, adding boiled but still brown water. As she sets the table Donna emerges. Her hair is drawn up but not in the usual bun. It's looser, letting her dark tresses hang around her face. She's donned a little blush so her cheeks are a sweet, innocent pink.

"Wow," Natalya breathes, grinning, "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," Donna murmurs, "It, smells good."

Natalya pulls out Donna's chair with a smile, "Thanks. We'll see how it tastes."

Once Donna sits she pulls in her own chair with a smile. Natalya takes her own seat and smiles, "Bon apetit."