Growing pushed out old things for new.
Briar watched his flowers bloom and grow. Brown dead leaves were replaced by a riot of green.
Sandry's loom clacked lightly. From strings to a bolt, tiny particles to a full useful whole.
Tris could see the clouds becoming distended, but they were still far. When they meandered to Summersea fat black clouds would unload barrels of rain.
Daja heated a rod, when its color was right the metal gets drawn through the draw plate. One thick rod to a long coil of wire.
The four have grown. Emotionally. In power. Always together.