seeds underfoot, roots further below

Mildew

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

Mildew's eyebrows rose slowly throughout the explanation of what Phoebe intended to do. If it was a mission from Frey, she wouldn't refuse to assist in it, but it was certainly weird. Maybe it was about time she got to see her old herald, because to Mildew this sounded like nothing the Frey she had once known would have wanted.

"The midwife deals with the birth part, doesn't she? Why would you raise the children after? Find other people for that, dear. Don't want to put it all on yourself." Was all she said, casually waving a hand around as she spoke. There were other concerns too, but it wasn't her place to raise them.

The thought of a baby-producing garden popping up in the middle of the solemn land of mourn did make her smile bewilderedly; how would the quiet dead feel about that? "This way. Did Frey say it would have to be in Mourn? It just seems an odd place, that's all. If I were to pick somewhere for babies to come from in the Wilds, it would be the Oerwoud."

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