Sun warmed the garden beds.
The air smelled of damp soil, mint, and thin smoke from cooking fires.
On the surface, it was a peaceful day.
Elowen knelt with her hands buried in the earth.
The soil was cool and alive.
It hummed under her skin.
She brushed a root with her fingertips.
Thirst. A small, quiet fear of drying out.
The plant's need pressed into her chest like a tiny hand.
"It's all right," she whispered. "You're not alone."