Moonpetal's Arc

Chapter 3 of 6

The flower snapped awake, hungry again. Moonpetal backed off the clean soil. She could not kill the thing without poisoning the ground she needed. She could not build a grove in the minutes a potion bought her. She stood there, watching the teeth, and then an idea landed. She did not need this flower. She needed what it did. "Sage," she said. "Does it make seeds?" Sage cocked her head. The dragon-woman had guarded this ridge for years, and she still kept her body between Moonpetal and the maw. "It blooms," she said. "Down low, near the roots. Small pods." She frowned. "Why?" "Because if it eats poison, so would its children." Moonpetal knelt at the edge of the good ground. "I could grow a young one wherever I want. Feed it magic. Let it clean the soil. Then I plant my grove around it." Sage stared at her. Then she grinned, showing sharp teeth. "You want to farm the monster." "I want a seedling," Moonpetal said. "One pod. That's all." The flower loomed between her and the pods at its base. Moonpetal reached into the grass and found the branch she had used before. The cloth was gone. She needed another soft thing to draw its bite. Her tarantula climbed down her arm and waited on the dirt, patient and loyal. "Not you," she whispered. She unwrapped the strip of cloth from her own sleeve instead. She tied the cloth to the branch and held it high. The mouth lunged for it. Teeth closed on cloth and wood. In that moment Moonpetal dropped flat and reached under the swaying stem. Her fingers found a pod. It was small and hard, with a glossy shell. She twisted it free and rolled clear as the jaw snapped down where her hand had been. "Got it," she gasped. She held the seed up. It caught the light, dark and strange. Sage pulled her to her feet, away from the teeth. Something slid through the grass behind them. A small green snake lifted its head, calm, its markings smooth and neat. It flicked its tongue toward Sage and settled at her boot like it knew her. "That's mine," Sage said, and nudged it gently aside. "Keeps me company up here." Moonpetal barely heard. She pressed the seed into a scrap of clean soil at the flower's edge and fed it a thin thread of green magic. The shell split. A tender rosette pushed up, tiny traps already forming, red mouths no bigger than her fingernail. It lived. It was hers. She could carry its children anywhere and grow clean ground from nothing. Then the seedling's little traps turned. They opened toward her tarantula on the dirt. They opened toward Sage's snake. Small as it was, it was already hunting. Moonpetal's smile faded. She had grown a monster. Now she had to raise it without letting it eat everything she loved.