It took a moment for him to respond, judging whether or not the tree would be alright without his help. They were usually pretty resilient, but lightening was dangerous to anything.
In the end, he decided it would live, that it could heal itself in the natural way, over time. So his attention turned, surveying the ground between himself and the girl. Bleating skirts, always causing trouble.
"If it's new," he explained, picking out a fallen cone that still had seed left in it, still had a spark of life, and crouching to cover it with his hand, "it's different." Staring down at his hand, Briar poured his magic into the ground, coaxing the seed to grow, pulling more life into it until it stood a small tree in the centre of the clearing, well away from the others.
One small tree, he figured, would be alright. It wasn't too big a waste of his reserves.