“That’s it. Not much of a reason, is it?”
“Not much of a reason at all,” I agreed.
“But at least I know what I’m here for,” he said.
“What do they do to people here?” I asked, the unsettling noises never-ending.
“Can you not hear?” he asked. “Does it sound good?”
“No,” I answered.
“No. They’ve not come for me yet. Thank the gods,” he said.
“Will they? Will they come for you, for me?” I asked him.
“Something tells me it’s gonna happen, but I know about as much as you. What’s your name?” he asked.
“Percy,” I told him.
We sat in silence after that for a long time. The cold of the stone seeped into my bones and I shivered again, violently.
“The cold never gets easier,” Remy said and shuffled about. A crack in the old stones let in a small stream of natural light. It was barely anything, but I thought I saw a hint of green around the small streak of light.
“How long have you been down here, Remy?” I asked him.
“Three days. Haven’t slept much.” He wrapped his arms around himself.
I pushed myself to my feet and walked towards the source of light.
There was no way I could reach to touch what I hoped was something green, something useful - so I hummed a tune, the melody of a rhyme my father used to sing to me as a child.
“That’s a pretty sound, that is,” Remy said, and I turned to him with a bright smile when I saw the green begin to grow.
“We have moss!” I said excitedly.
“Moss?” he asked.
“Moss,” I answered and turned back to the growing spongy green plant.
I continued to hum, directing my magic towards the moss. It grew dramatically, and when Remy saw the flow of green descend the wall towards us, he stumbled to his feet, cowering into the furthest corner.
When I could, I stopped humming and reached out to touch and direct my magic through my hands, which was much easier for me.
“Don’t be scared. Moss has many properties, from antimicrobial properties to chemicals which can help heat the blood. But for us, it’s going to help us get and stay warm,” I said, turning to Remy.
I was directing the moss to grow as much as possible. I wasn’t the best at encouraging where a plant grew. I knew some Flores witches could grow a tree and decide upon the direction of every root, branch and placement of every leaf. I wasn’t anywhere near that skilled or powerful, but I could make the moss cover the walls and floor and insulate against the dampness and cold.
“You’re one of those flower girls,” he said, and I thought he sounded a little awed.
“Flower girl?” I asked amused and a little breathless as I worked. “I’ve never been called that before.”
“We used to have one of your kind. She went from village to village around these parts of the mountains when I was a boy. She never stayed in one place for more than a few days before she was moving on. For a small offering of food and board, she’d bless our crops,” he told me.
“What happened to her?” I asked.
“Got old. Died. The natural way, mind. But there was no other flower girl to take over. That’s when times started to get bad. I had never known a harsh winter, but the first winter without her was a bad one,” he said, reaching out to the wall and pressing against the moss as it grew.
“This will help keep the heat in and the cold and damp out,” I told him when I had finished and sat down on the slight cushion of the now mossy floor.