Petalroot

Petalroot grew up at the edge of a garden where beans climbed poles and strawberries blushed under leaves. She learned early that patience brings sweetness, watching flowers bud slowly and burst into bloom only when ready. Her favorite place was beneath the marigolds, where she sang to the sprouts in a voice too soft for humans to hear. The plants seemed to listen—leaning toward her, growing just a bit sturdier in her presence. Other mice thought it was coincidence. Petalroot knew better. When autumn came and the garden was cleared, Petalroot bundled seeds in scraps of cloth and carried them with her. “Next spring,” she promised. But the cottage changed, and the garden grew quiet. Still, she held onto her basket of blooms, waiting for soil and sun once more. Now, hat tilted just so, Petalroot waits here—ready to tend, hum, and bring a touch of garden magic to her forever home. Wherever she goes, something green will follow.