Herbalists' Cache antistékomai

He had heard the Singer's voice, but he had not listened. Heard, but had not heard it as His. Heard, but a louder cry hissed through his ears.

He overturned the ground.

Could he remember what they looked like?

It had been so long ago, but he had stared at them for what had felt like eternity.

Stop.

He kept digging.

Breathe.

In time he dredged them up. Small - but they didn't need to be any bigger than that.

Pray.

And what good would that do you? Will He tell you now? With these, you'll know.

He trembled, and pushed the frail mushrooms at his paws. Waiting.

Waiting.

Left with a choice in silence.