The green and growing things gathered in the greenhouse. They shuddered their leaves and rasped their roots, communicating as only plantlings can.
In the ivy-covered house beyond, the plant mage lay in bed, a leafy cat purring against her chest, helping in the only way it knew. The plant mage had been abed for days, and dearly needed the rest.
But there were many things that still needed to be done. She whispered them in her sleep. And the plantlings heard.
So when the plant mage finally emerged from her rest, it was to find the garden weeded and the plants watered. Produce had been distributed to the village, carried on the backs of little sedge-like plantlings. Pests had been driven off by friendly pixies, paid for in roots and flowers.
As she took in her garden, with its lovely trees and neat beds, she couldn’t help but smile.
‘Thank you,’ she said to the plantlings.
They pressed in close, grateful as well.