As They Bloom

4 - The Village

"When will you return?"

"I am not sure. A few days. A few weeks. A few months, perhaps."

Yone stands in the garden, hair billowing behind him in the gentle breeze. It took plentiful rest and several healing spells for him to recover from his wounds. But now that he's well once more, he's determined to return to his hunting.

Though it's only been three days since the battle with the Azakana, you've already grown used to seeing him around the garden. He may not be very talkative and a little restless, but he's good company all the same.

Lillia stands by you, her ears flattened against her head. She is as unhappy for him to leave as you are. He chuckles to see you both staring at him, as sad as wet cats.

"You have each other for company now," he says kindly. "By tomorrow, you won't even notice I've gone."

"That's not true! Who will carry back the heaviest naap basket?"

"Or reach the sun apples at the top of the tree?"

He shakes his head with a smile but remains steadfast. "You'll just have to make do with a stool and a cart, now that you're without your plow-worax." He turns and takes a few steps out of the garden. But he falters for a moment before turning back to face you both once more.

"Is there anything you want me to bring back?"

"Flowers," says Lillia without a second thought.

He chuckles once more. "That's all you ever ask for!"

Lillia shrugs bashfully. "You can never have too many."

"Flowers it is then. I will keep an eye out for beautiful blooms." He turns to you, a kindly smile on his face. "And for you?"

You falter, unsure. The garden has provided you with almost everything you need. You look down at your clothes and are confronted with Noxian leather mail - worn, cracked, and rather dirty. It would be nice to have something else to wear. The villages on the outskirts of the forest sell clothes and other goods. But neither you or Lillia are brave enough to venture within and barter for them.

Clothes aside, there is something else you've been desperate for since living in the garden – tools. A trowel, a shovel, a rake or even a knife – any one of them would make a world of difference. Your palms have grown calloused and raw from digging in the dirt with bare hands.

"A trowel," you tell him. "Or any other tool, really."

"Only the finest," he assures you.

He departs shortly after, and the garden feels a little too empty without him.

You spend the rest of the morning in the forest: foraging for fruit and flowers. The afternoon you spend with Lillia, tending the garden and caring for the Mother Tree. Though the garden recovered quickly after the battle with the Azakana, you can't help but notice the Mother Tree's light has remained dim. Her white trunk, once smooth and dappled with whorls of blue, green, and purple, is now covered in strange burls.

Lillia's hands run over the growing knots; her brows knitted in an anxious expression.

"Mother Tree is getting sick again," she whispers.

"What does she need?" you ask her.

"Dreams..." says Lillia cryptically. You scowl faintly, confused. 

Lillia draws a deep breath, eyes burning with determination. "Humans cast a spell every night when they fall asleep. Their dreams are the magic that keeps Mother Tree strong." Her face falls, lip quivering. "But the humans are not dreaming anymore. Their days and nights are spent fending off nightmares, both within and around themselves."