The plant mage answered the door to find a little plantling with plump green leaves shuffling its roots nervously. Rain poured beyond the doorstep, and slipped from the plantling’s waxy coating.
‘Oh you poor dear!’ she said. ‘A succulent, out here in this weather. Come in, quick!’ She ushered it inside.
She led it to the greenhouse. Warm orbs of sunlight spun near the roof. She offered it a pot of rocky soil.
With a tired rustle, it climbed inside.
Over the next few hours, she got the story from it, in the rasp of roots and the waving of leaves.
‘Overwatered,’ she said, giving it a sympathetic pat. ‘And root rot to boot. Worry not — I’ll have you dried out in no time.’
When the plantling was cured, it had a curious request. The plant mage obliged and sent it home with a list of care instructions nestled among its leaves.
It was fond of its human, as many plantlings were. They just needed a little advice.
—