seeds underfoot, roots further below

Mildew

She rings like a bell through the night
And wouldn't you love to love her?

The Barrows was an ideal place to visit in Deepfrost, a quiet and reflective season; Mildew's bare feet pressed down softly on the grass-covered knolls, her eyes carefully watching over the burial mounds as she was careful to stay at the edge of the area. She had no idea how true rumours of lost souls were, but she had always been superstitious enough to be cautious.

Normally Mildew would scavenge and pick whatever plants she could from the Wilds, using it's bounty for her own life, in turn regrowing and caring - but not here. These were sacred grounds. She sat gently, skirt gathered underneath herself on the edge of a hill and called out to any of the nearby creatures. Beetles, small field mice, birds, any of them were welcome to come and sit with her, on her lap or shoulders, in her hair.

Once her companions had gathered, she closed her eyes and began to hum a soft tune for them. Some old harvesting song that had fallen out of favour with the mortals some hundred years ago; the lyrics didn't matter but the melody was enough to make her smile and lean back, swaying a little and simply enjoying being where she was with creature company.

She rules her life like a bird in flight
And who will be her lover?