Ouroboros Spine xiv. hate is spitting

AW, botanist #2

Once the herbalist had finally finished the arduous, pain-staking task of clearing out the garden once more, she returned some several days later with a couple of plants clasped gently in her maw. Two to be exact: both carefully uprooted bunches of marigold plants. Aiwëndil fully intended on bringing other flowers and herbs to plant in the freshly-tilled patch but her jaws could only hold so much -- especially given the size of the still-young shrubs -- and the infection-destroying marigold seemed as good as any place to start.

Any onlookers would have surely thought the girl to look rather odd, carrying the bunches of delicate greenery and golden blossoms -- the pale tendrils of the flowers' roots wrapped in soaked moss to keep them from drying out as the star-kissed daughter transported them -- to the small plot of disturbed earth. Her purpose soon became clear though as the herdstalker rested the bundles on the ground and then turned to the 'corner' of the garden to dig a hole big enough for one of the small bushes to be planted in.