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“Alina! Alina! She’s here again!”
Alina fumbled the knife, nearly dropping it and slicing off her fingers instead of the vortroot on her cutting board.
“Oh no, you didn’t,” she muttered under her breath, leaving the vegetable behind and cramming her feet into her boots, not even bothering to lace them up.
Alina pushed open the door, sending it flying into the side of the house. She ran clunkily down the steps and through the herb garden. She ran through the vegetable garden and her neat row of fruit trees. She ran down the little slope to her beloved rose garden. The neighbor’s child cowered behind the fence that separated Alina’s prized roses from the rest of her property—the fence which held in, not out the unwanted guest.
“Get out! Out!” Alina cried at the equine intruder.
The white unicorn whipped up her head, like she was fully aware she wasn’t supposed to be in Alina’s garden. This was the third time Alina had caught her!
The mare was white without a speck of color and spindly. Alina had built the fence after the second time the unicorn had appeared, hoping that the tight space and the thorny bushes would deter the unicorn from entering. But no, for some reason the mare was dead-set on being around Alina’s roses.
Alina stormed through the gate, empty-handed but armed with anger. She had been breeding these roses specifically! She had a goal: she wanted to win the Best Bloom competition this year! She couldn’t afford for any of the tiny sprouts and bushes to get trampled by an errant hoof—or worse!
Alina brandished her fist at the horse. The mare eyed Alina, her ears pricked forward and blatantly unalarmed.
“Go away!” Alina was smart enough not to get any closer to the unicorn. The horses of North of North were still wild, and if provoked the wrong way accidents had been known to occur. The long, sharp tip of the mare’s horn was enough to give Alina pause.
The mare backed up a step. The mare had large brown eyes and was staring with long lashes at Alina. She looked almost sorry. Rose dragons, which Alina loved and was tolerant of, were curling around the mare’s hooves like they were knights and the mare needed protection. Alina felt a stab of guilt at chasing such a lovely creature away. But it couldn’t be helped—she needed to protect her roses!
“Go on, that’s it,” Alina said, advancing closer.
The mare’s one ear pricked back, and her head came up suddenly. Alina froze.
“Yoo-hoo! Alinaaaa!” A needle-like voice cut through the air. Alina turned towards the call, her heart sinking into her chest.
Alina’s neighbor—Alina would prefer to use a more colorful term—Beatrice, had ambled down through her gardens and was rapidly approaching Alina with a force like a storm. Beatrice, despite her short stature, was an imposing figure on the best of days. She never had a wrinkle in her shirts or an eyelash out of place. Her enunciation was impeccable. When Beatrice died, Alina believed her house would be preserved on the record and they would show tours of it. The woman had everything, including what Alina had set her eye upon since moving to Focrest four years ago: the Best Bloom award.
Beatrice had been the winner for the last fourteen years, and thus she was Alina’s mortal enemy.
“Hello Beatrice,” Alina said with the flattest tone she could manage.
“Alina! Oh, darling, don’t mind me wandering over to see the competition!” Beatrice punctuated her sentence with a heavy wink. “You have such gorgeous flowers. I’ll have to work much harder to win that trophy on Friday!”
“I’m sure we’ll both do our best,” Alina said, trying and failing at charitable.
“Of course!” The woman’s voice swung up to pitches only dogs could hear. “I’m expecting great things from you. It’s honestly so sad that nobody else in the village is even trying!”
We are trying, you just win every year because the judges are too afraid to say no, Alina thought.
“I’m glad to provide competition. Now if you’ll excuse me, there was something…” Alina trailed off as she turned back to the garden and the unicorn was nowhere to be seen. Where could she have gone?
“Oh, darling, of course! I’ll leave you to it. They are really quite beautiful,” Beatrice said, ignorant of Alina’s confusion, before turning stately aside and gliding back up the hill.
Alina let out a breath she hadn’t remembered holding. She surveyed the garden, but only a spare rose dragon was wriggling his way around one of the larger bushes. The white unicorn was gone. She checked over the rose garden one last time, but the only sign the mare had been present was tiny hoof marks in the soil.
“Well, maybe that’s the last of her,” Alina said.
🌹
Alina was busy in the garden. The Best Bloom competition was the day after tomorrow, and she was fretting over the large bushes, which were where Alina would select her most magnificent flowers from. She was crouched half-underneath a rosebush, weeding.
The Best Bloom competition had awed Alina when she was first moved to the village of Focrest. The village was nestled right across where the River Teal flowed into the Jasmine Forest, and since Alina was from across the mountain, she had never before seen such flowers. There were blooms the size of her head, blooms in every color, flowers that smelled like heaven. The air was warm and the breeze carried the petals from the forest around like snow. It was magical. Alina never wanted to leave.
That first year, Alina had learned about the flowers and grown many herself, but she hadn’t been confident enough to enter anything into the competition. She had seen Beatrice’s roses then, and thought them fine, and was unsurprised when Beatrice won. But then Beatrice won the next year, and the year after that. By the fourth year, Alina couldn’t understand why the woman’s beautiful yet overdone crystal red roses had managed to win every year. Alina had made it her goal to beat the woman.
After all, there were so many wonderful flowers to be found, especially if one wasn’t afraid of going along the edges of the Jasmine Forest. New varieties and colors could be harvested without disturbing whatever lived inside the forest.
Alina tore out a weed that had just started to threaten the base of her one rosebush, and threw it behind her.
The rose dragons had come back yesterday, and were once again chattering in the bushes above and around her. Alina often wished they were tame, so she could pet them and let them in the house. They’d get close enough that she could make out their bright green scales and mimic rose-tip tails, but she tried to pet one once and ended up with a nasty cut down her arm from the poor spooked dragon.
They were being awfully noisy today, Alina thought to herself as she gripped the base of another weed. She threw it behind her again, and with that last one, was finished weeding this bush. Alina shimmied out from under the rosebush, careful not to snag her hair or shirt on the thorns.
Alina sat up, stretching out her back and letting out a sigh of relief. She braced herself to get up.
Something hard and pointed dug into her shoulder.
I’m going to die, Alina thought.
She slowly, carefully, craned her neck around to look death in the face.
The white unicorn stared back.
“Ack!” Alina yelped, and the mare shook her head back, releasing Alina from the weight of the unicorn’s horn.
Alina spun around, fully aware of just how large and imposing the unicorn was now that she was cornered between the rosebush and the rose-addicted mare.
Alina stared at the unicorn. The rose dragons were silent. The unicorn stared back.
The unicorn lifted up her hoof and placed it down gently in the soil next to Alina’s knee. The action was dainty. Alina noticed for the first time the unicorn had long, slightly curled fetlocks.
Alina drew her shoulders back as the unicorn lowered her head again. Her horn, a lengthy thing, advanced closer and closer to Alina’s shoulder. Alina didn’t know what to do—this was a wild mare, and the only advice she had been given was to keep her distance from them.
The unicorn poked Alina’s right shoulder, and then, carefully, lifted her horn and poked the other.
“What do you want from me?” Alina asked.
Unbidden, an image flashed in Alina’s mind: a rosebush made entirely of crystals. The leaves were great formations of sharp rock that still looked like a breeze could sway them. The stems of the roses made her breath catch, that they even had hooked thorns rising out of the rock. The blooms were deep crimson that still managed to catch the light, deeper than Alina’s mother’s ruby earrings that she had worn on her wedding day.
“Wow,” Alina breathed out.
The unicorn blinked her doleful eyes.
“Wait,” Alina said. The unicorn had just… shown that to her?
The unicorn blinked at her again, and snorted. Warm horse breath ghosted over Alina. Another image came to her: the beautiful crystal rosebush, being choked out by an enormous weed, getting swallowed up by it.
The rose dragons around Alina chittered.
“You… Why did you show this to me?” Alina asked the unicorn.
The unicorn only blinked again.
“I was weeding now… you want me to weed… that?” Alina asked.
The unicorned bobbed her head, causing the sharp horn to sway uncomfortably close to Alina’s chest. All of a sudden, the unicorn’s appearance made sense. She must have seen Alina working and thought she could help.
“But, I shooed you away,” Alina said.
The unicorn sent Alina an image of her own butt from when she was underneath the rosebush behind her grabbing the last weeds.
“Hey,” Alina said, chuckling despite herself.
The unicorn sent another image: Alina, leaving a basket of berries out for the rose dragons.
“You want me… because I like the rose dragons, and roses?” Alina asked.
The unicorn nodded her head again.
Alina thought of the Best Bloom competition, and how it was already afternoon.
“I don’t have much time,” she told the unicorn.
The unicorn finally backed up, and raised her head to stare down at Alina. The message was clear: Neither do I.
Alina glanced back at the roses she had hoped to enter this year. She still had a day… But then she thought about the crystal rosebush the unicorn had shown her, and she couldn’t let the image go.
“Alright, let me get some food,” Alina told the unicorn. “And tell me your name.”
The unicorn sent her an image of a rosebush.
“Rosebush?” Alina asked.
The unicorn’s nostrils flared, and she sighed. Another image: a closer view of the thorns on a rosebush.
“Thorn?” Alina guessed.
The mare huffed again and turned away to stare intently at another rosebud.
“I’m sorry,” Alina said, feeling like she had misstepped.
The unicorn only showed her the image of the thorn again before flicking her tail in Alina’s direction.
Alina hurried inside, a seed of worry growing inside of her stomach. Had she insulted the unicorn? What was the protocol for not being able to figure out a horse’s name?
“Thorn, rose, prickle, spine,” Alina muttered to herself as she grabbed a bag and supplies.
Alina set her wide-brimmed hat on her head, tucked her sharp pruners safely away into their belt-pouch, and locked the door of her cottage.
“Rosebush, rosebud, rosebriar. Pointy?” Alina kept up the stream of possible names.
The unicorn neighed, tossing her mane.
“Pointy?” Alina gasped, her heart soaring.
The mare showed Alina her teeth.
“Rosebriar?” Alina backtracked.
The unicorn—Rosebriar—whinnied again.
“Oh, thank goddess,” Alina sighed. She slung her bag onto her back and presented herself to Rosebriar, patting her belt. “I’ve got my pruners.”
Rosebriar approached her on dainty hooves. A few rose dragons perched on her back, watching Alina cautiously.
After seeming to check her over, Rosebriar shook out her mane—which Alina now noticed had roses intertwined with it—and presented her back to Alina. The rose dragons hopped off, making mournful sounds as they lost their free ride.
“You want me…” Alina trailed off.
Rosebriar sent her an image of Alina climbing onto her back.
“Well, here goes,” Alina said, and grabbed a handful of Rosebriar’s mane in her hand.
She jumped, and hooked her legs over Rosebriar’s side. The mare was very tall, and yet so thin that Alina was afraid that her weight would crunch her. That fear was quickly settled when Rosebriar shifted underneath her, and Alina became very aware of how far from the ground she was and how warm Rosebriar’s coat was underneath her. Alina clenched Rosebriar’s mane in her fists, swaying slightly.
Alina knew how to ride—didn’t everyone?—but knowing how to ride was different from knowing how to ride bareback, and now Alina wished she had taken the time to learn that skill as well.
Rosebriar must have picked up on Alina’s hesitance, because she stood shock-still and sent Alina a very clear image: Alina gripping Rosebriar’s mane with white knuckles.
“You want me to hold on tighter?” Alina asked incredulously.
Rosebriar only sent her the image again, and Alina readjusted her grip on the mare’s mane.
That was all the warning she got, because then Rosebriar’s muscles tensed, and suddenly the ground was a lot farther away than it had been. Rosebriar lept—jumped seemed too weak of a word—and for a split second, Alina felt like she was soaring through the air, the roof of her cottage akin in size to a book, before the ground came up, closer and faster.
“Ahhhhhhhh!” Alina let out a cry, body inadvertently bracing for impact with her hands and knees clenched.
But the impact never came. Instead, Rosebriar’s hooves bounced a little, like they never even hit the ground, before she was springing into another flying leap.
With just those two leaps, they had nearly left the outskirts of the village behind. Alina marveled at the distance. A smile stole across her face.
“This is marvelous!” Alina exclaimed as Rosebriar went into another arcing jump.
In what seemed like no time at all, they had made it to where the river went into the Jasmine Forest, and there Alina once again felt trepidation.
“Will it be safe?” Alina asked Rosebriar.
The river was not large by any means, but it still had rushing, deep water that required a ferry to cross. The Jasmine Forest, though Alina had been to the outskirts, loomed impressive over them. Who knew what creatures lived inside. Who knew what flowers, a smaller voice in Alina’s head wondered.
Her guide’s answer was to trot along the edge of the river, following its path up to the forest’s edge. There, Rosebriar paused, as if to ask Alina a final time if she was certain she wanted to enter.
Alina craned her neck up at the branches creaking far above them. Even this close to the river, she could hear the trees groaning and swaying. Their trunks soared into the air, the leaves creating a vast canopy. Ahead of them, the understory was shadowed and only sparse grass and bushes littered the floor.
Alina glanced back at the village, which had been the most adventure she had had in her life up until this moment, and which had inspired her love of flowers. She looked ahead, spotting already plants she could categorize and croon over.
Alina focused on the warm horseflesh beneath her, and the fragrance of the roses intertwined in Rosebriar’s mane. She took a deep breath, and exhaled through her mouth. She thought of the crystal rosebush that Rosebriar had shown her, and how the weeds were overtaking such a treasure, and her resolve solidified in her heart.
“Let’s go,” Alina said.
Rosebriar bobbed her head in agreement, and then shot off into the forest. Rosebriar was nimble and darting like a deer through paths that Alina couldn’t make out. The understory went by in a blur. For the first time Alina felt a cool breeze move past her.
Rosebriar slowed to a walk as the forest began to thin and light broke through the canopy above. The grass was lush and green beneath them, and the forest grew sparse until they came out of it.
They were at the top of the forest break, gazing down a rolling hill to where another river crossed the scene. Across the river, the forest began again, but less dense than before. Above it, way in the distance, Alina saw a dark house that looked like it was carved from a tree.
“Is that?” Alina couldn’t finish her thought.
The herd Sunflower made its home in the Jasmine forest, that much Alina knew, but the legendary castle, Petalhome—no one had seen it in ages. Alina might’ve been the first person to lay eyes on it since the Rolandgaard girls return. And Rosebriar, Alina realized as she jolted back into reality from the mare’s movements, was headed straight towards it.
“Woah!” Alina said, before Rosebriar made another gigantic leap.
The unicorn must have had some powerful magic ability, Alina reasoned, to jump so high. As they got closer to the river, Alina’s heart sped up.
“You’re not going to cross that, are you?” Alina cried.
Rosebriar did just that. In three mighty leaps, she brought them across with nary a splash. Alina released her breath.
On the other side of the river, the flowers grew abundant.
Every single kind Alina knew the names of—tulips and crocus, daffodils and sunflowers, brugmansia and iris and more, in a stunning array of colors that was a feast to her eyes. Rosebriar seemed to catch Alina’s desire, and came to a halt.
Alina slid from Rosebriar’s back, stumbling forward into the riot of color. Her outstretched hands brushed against velvet petals and were tangled by gently swaying stems. The air hummed with the sound of a thousand insect wings. Alina’s legs carried her only a few steps further before protesting, and giving out beneath her. Alina collapsed into paradise.
She shrugged off her pack, opening it and bringing out some cheese and bread. She tore off chunks of the bread while using her pocket knife to cut slices of cheese. She ate, watching the insects pollinating around her.
Rosebriar had wandered off to drink from the river, and was now resting herself. Once Alina was again fortified, Rosebriar ambled over.
Alina noticed as the unicorn walked that her long fetlocks did not get tangled in the grass, but instead slid through them, like the earth itself was allowing her to glide past. Rosebriar’s hooves were a shiny, even black.
“Where to next?” Alina asked.
Rosebriar turned her elegant neck, and Alina followed the unicorn’s gaze into the treeline. There was a clear path through the trees which she had not noticed before.
“There?” Alina confirmed.
She stood up on slightly shaky legs and started towards the path. Rosebriar walked sedately behind her. The path appeared a few paces in front of her, the leaves on the ground eternally senesced, like they had fallen from the trees only seconds before her feet laid into them. Alina did not know where she was being led. Rosebriar declined to show her any other images.
By the time the sun was setting, Alina stood at the base of a hill. The path crested it. Alina couldn’t see what lay beyond. Her calves were screaming at her, and her whole body ached. She turned back to Rosebriar.
“Can I rest?” Alina asked.
Rosebriar blinked at her, but offered no affirmative except walking ahead of Alina up the path. Alina sighed, and looked after her.
“I suppose I’ll just go to the top,” Alina said.
Alina’s body felt like a wrung out dishcloth, all loose and flapping and done. Rallying her muscles to her command was an effort of epic proportions. Rosebriar ambled ahead of her, her long trailing tail weaving across the ground like a taunt.
After an age, Alina stepped onto the flat top of the hill. She turned her half-lidded eyes to Rosebriar.
“I’m resting now,” she told the unicorn.
Alina slung off her bag, ate, and made a small camp, tucking her bedroll around her. The constellations watched her above. Alina murmured goodnight, and fell asleep.
🌹
When Alina woke, there was a brief moment where everything felt good and light and weightless before she crashed down to earth and her body remembered it was lying on uneven ground and cold grass.
Alina shot up, her jacket falling off her shoulders into a crumple in her lap, and frantically peered around for Rosebriar.
The unicorn was standing asleep only a few paces away. Alina breathed out. She had been so tired from yesterday, and upon waking and righting herself she found that seeing the land spread out beneath the hill did not help the feeling that was boiling to the top of her stomach. The trees around her seemed so small and distant, and the river Rosebriar had leapt over seemed like it was leagues away. Alina took a deep breath in. She did not know where she was.
She looked back at the direction she had been walking in before she collapsed last night, and was met with a wrinkled maze spanning the landscape. The hedges must've been taller than Alina herself and perfectly maintained. From her vantage point on the hill, the hedge maze looked like a children’s puzzle. It was precise in a way that screamed to Alina that someone’s hand had kept it so.
“Are we going into that?” Alina asked herself.
An image of the maze as if she was standing inside of it, the shrubbery looming up on either side of her like walls, shot into her mind. Alina yelped, and in the vision her sight walked forward, turning a corner. At once, Alina knew that she was looking at the center of the maze, and at this center was the crystal rosebush, and the threading weed that was choking it out.
“I suppose that answers that question,” Alina said, opening her eyes.
Next to her, Rosebriar was awake and watching with half-lids over her deep brown eyes. Gone was the lively, wild, childlike energy from the unicorn that she had displayed yesterday. Absently, Alina remembered that tomorrow was the Best Bloom competition. The normalcy of that world already felt like it had been covered in a film of dust.
Alina ate, and when she stood Rosebriar led her down the hill. The unicorn picked her way silently, not showing Alina any more images. At the base of the hill, it was only another half hour walk to the beginning of the hedges. They were not so tall as they had seemed from the top of the hill, but they still looked down on her.
There was no entrance that Alina could see.
“How are people supposed to get inside?” Alina asked.
Rosebriar whinnied, which sounded suspiciously like a laugh. She sent Alina a flash-image again, telling Alina to get on her back.
Alina did, thighs protesting, and even mounted she could only barely see over the tops of the hedges. They went on for what seemed like forever. At least they were not quiet; birdsong and a static haze of insect noise blanketed the whole scene.
Alina gripped Rosebriar’s mane tight, preparing herself for more of the unicorn’s explosive leaps. Rosebriar did not even move before bouncing straight up, like a spring, over the first hedge and inside the maze.
Alina laughed aloud. “So you’re going to cheat!”
Rosebriar snorted, and reoriented herself for another leap. Onwards and inwards they went, further towards the center of the maze, bouncing around like they were playing a children’s game.
Alina winced after a particularly hard landing. Rosebriar seemed to have felt her discomfort, because the unicorn stopped jumping and instead paced forward. They had come quite far.
As they turned a corner, Alina heard a voice speaking through the hedges, coming from the side of them.
“Oh, where did that rascal wander off to now? The rosebush isn’t getting any stronger, no ma’am, and all I can do is sit here and watch it!”
The voice was low and yet frothy, like the syllables had to get around a large impediment. Rosebriar whickered.
“Rosebriar? Is that you? Rosebriar!” The voice called urgently.
Rosebriar turned another corner, and suddenly they were in the center of the maze. The hedges opened up into a clearing ringed with freestanding trimmed bushes. The grass was mowed short and in the center of it all stood the crystal rosebush.
It was more beautiful than Rosebriar’s images had made it. Alina slid off Rosebriar’s back and stumbled forward to get a closer look at the wonder.
The entire thing was exactly like a flesh rosebush, scaled perfectly into crystal. There were buds upon buds of roses, but none had bloomed yet. Alina reached out—
“Hey!” The voice chastised her, and Alina whipped her hand back from the rosebuds, searching for the speaker.
Her gaze found a very large rose dragon, but nothing else.
“Yes, you! Who are you? Wait, nevermind. Rosebriar, who is this?” The speaker, Alina realized, was the rose dragon.
Alina’s mouth fell open as the rose dragon continued on.
“Rosebriar, why is there a human in the maze? You know it's not safe for them. Look at her, she’s but a child!”
Alina, who had passed her twenty-seventh year, felt a bit hysterical at the dragon’s comment.
Rosebriar snorted. The rose dragon continued in response:
“Aush! You’re always such a free-thinker. You!” The rose dragon directed this at Alina.
Alina stared down with complete and utter bewilderment at the talking rose dragon.
“Yes, you. What is your name?” The rose dragon’s voice had changed cadence, as if trying to calm a frightened child.
“I’m Alina. Rosebriar… brought me here to help?” Alina said.
“Yes, I got that,” The rose dragon said rather sardonically, all previous traces of sappy comfort gone from its voice.
“I really can. I breed roses at home…” Alina trailed off.
“Oh, I bet she loved that. Well, Alina, see what few mortal eyes have! The Crystal Rosebush. Not to be confused with crystal roses, which are alive and edible. It was given to us by some fae, some time ago as a return for a favor. Sadly, it is overcome with a rather pesky weed. Seeing as Rosebriar does not have opposable thumbs and my thumbs are talons that will damage the crystals, I suppose I will have to make do.” The rose dragon let out the world’s weariest sigh.
“I can help,” Alina reiterated.
“Yes, come closer, child,” The rose dragon said, beckoning forward.
Alina knelt in front of the bush, which brought her eye to eye with the rose dragon. It really was larger than any other Alina had seen.
Rosebriar stomped her hoof from behind them.
“Oh, yes, goodness. I am Clysclyptera, one of the keepers of the Rose Maze. And Rosebriar’s much better, more levelheaded—” here Rosebriar interjected a snort “—other half.”
“Pleasure,” Alina said, thankful that her manners had not completely escaped her. “So what’s wrong with the weed? What have you done before?”
Alina surveyed the weed. It was growing out around the stalk of the crystal rosebush, twining around it in a way that would suffocate a living bush. Alina had never seen its kind before, but she could see why the rose dragons hadn’t touched it—the stem of the weed emerged from the ground nearly next to the stem of the crystal rosebush.
Alina pried at the hardy vine with her fingers; it was tightly curled around its prey. Maybe she could slide her knife underneath the vine and saw at it? Alina reached for her pocketknife, but Clysclyptera shook her head vigorously.
“We can’t damage a gift given to us,” Clysclyptera said.
Alina sat back on her heels and surveyed the weed. It had trailing vines and large, broad leaves. If she couldn’t damage the above-ground portion of the weed, she’d have to go for its roots. Alina turned to Clysclyptera.
“Does the crystal rosebush have roots?” Alina asked.
Clysclyptera gave her a bewildered look.
“You know, I don’t think anyone’s really asked that,” Clysclyptera said.
So much help you are, Alina thought. Alina wrapped her hands around the base of the crystal rosebush. Behind her, Clysclyptera gasped and put her taloned paws over her muzzle.
Alina tugged. It didn’t budge. She tugged a little harder, shaking the crystal rosebush slightly as she did so.
“Oh,” Clysclyptera squeaked. Her claws had moved to cover her eyes. Alina noticed that all around them, rose dragons of various sizes had appeared out of the hedges and were a captive audience.
“No pressure,” Alina muttered to herself.
Rosebriar had walked around to the other side of the rosebush, watching Alina work. The unicorn offered no suggestions but seemed to be just as worried as the dragons were.
Alina planted her boots into the dirt and readjusted her grip. As she braced herself against the ground, she pulled both the crystal rosebush and the weed with all her might. Her muscles burned and protested. She kept pulling. A murmur rose around her from the assembled dragons, all of whom were riveted to the sight. Alina focused on the stem, ignoring where the crystal cut into her palms, and pulled. The crystal leaves of the rosebush tinkled as they brushed against her arms and each other.
“Come on,” Alina muttered to the stubborn thing.
She heard the distinct sound of roots ripping free from the earth, and she felt the resistance give. She paused, readjusted herself, and tugged a final time.
The resistance went suddenly away, and—
BOWP!!
—Alina fell back, shooting her arms out in front of her as both the weed and the crystal rosebush came free of the earth.
“Goddess,” Alina cursed, shaking arms holding out the plants.
As Alina stared at the bush, she realized one thing: the crystal rosebush had no roots. It was like it had been stuck into the ground. All of the roots around it were living and connected to the weed.
She carefully laid the rosebush on the ground. Alina hoped that she wasn’t doing any damage to it. With no root system, however, she could easily but carefully unwind the weed from the bush. She tossed the offending weed away, where another rose dragon promptly picked it up and stuffed it in its mouth.
Now Alina was left with the crystal rosebush (separated from the ground) and a hole (previous crystal rosebush home).
“Should I just… Put it back?” Alina asked Clysclyptera.
She looked over at the rose dragon. Clysclyptera still had her scaly paws over her mouth, looking dazed and horrified.
“Oh…kay,” Alina said. “Rosebriar?”
The unicorn tossed her mane and sent Alina an image of the rosebush standing tall exactly where it had been.
“Here goes,” Alina said, picking up the crystal rosebush and sticking it into the ground. She felt like a child with a stick and a pile of dirt, poking holes.
The crystal rosebush looked stupid only for a second, until a quiet hush fell over the group. Alina leaned forward with everyone else, watching.
The central bud of the rosebush broke its sepals, and a riotous red color broke forth. In mere moments, the rose bloomed. Alina gasped softly.
“It…worked,” Clysclyptera said in awe, turning to Alina.
“It did,” Alina agreed, thinking in the moment that it would be best to not voice her concerns that she had killed or damaged the faerie gift.
A cheer rose up from the assorted dragons, and Rosebriar came around to nuzzle at Alina’s hair with her nose. Alina found herself grinning. She had done it! She looked around at the assortment of rose dragons, beaming.
“We must thank you for your help,” Clysclyptera said after the revelry had quieted down.
“Oh, no need,” Alina said. The travel and the experience itself had been more than enough of an adventure.
Clysclyptera only gave her an indiscernible look, but accepted Alina’s words.
The rose dragons had come up closer to Alina, and though very few of them spoke to Alina in a language she could understand, they jumped up and down and expressed their gratitude by making her laugh.
Alina spent an unknown amount of time with them, reveling in her triumph. When Rosebriar sent her an image of Alina getting onto her back, Alina was sad to leave her new friends.
“I’ll never forget you,” Alina promised to the adoring crowd.
She mounted up, and Rosebriar preened and shook her mane as they left the center of the maze behind. Alina twisted to look at it one last time. The rose dragons were circled around the crystal rosebush. Clysclyptera waved goodbye. Alina waved back.
Alina gripped Rosebriar’s mane and hoped that her fingers shaking could be mistaken for fatigue. But Rosebriar walked down through the maze, seemingly leading them through it while Alina felt wetness roll down her cheeks. She had finally done something right.
When she was wiping away her tears, Rosebriar sent her an image of jumping, and then of Alina’s cottage.
“Yes, let’s go home,” Alina told her.
🌹
The sun was halfway set by the time they cantered back into the village. Alina had never been so happy to see her home. As she slid off of Rosebriar’s back, her hands lingered in the unicorn’s mane.
“I’ll never forget this,” Alina said to her.
Rosebriar huffed, turning her head and cradling Alina briefly. Alina put her forehead against the mare, breathing in horseflesh and rose petals. There was nothing left to say.
Rosebriar lipped at Alina’s shirt, and in the fading light she looked like a ghost come into Alina’s yard. It was like the whole day had been a vision, the unicorn included.
Alina stepped back, and Rosebriar blinked slowly at her before turning away. Alina watched her go until the trees swallowed her pale form whole. She turned back to the house.
Alina was halfway into bed, mind not focusing on the book in front of her, before she remembered: the Best Bloom competition was tomorrow! She felt a pang in her heart. The roses she had seen in the maze and the flowers inside the Jasmine Forest had been nothing compared to what she was growing.
Alina set the book aside and stared out the window. Her body ached, the only tangible reminder of what she had experienced.
🌹
The next morning was bright and beautiful. Alina got up, never more thankful for her comfortable bed and blankets, and prepared breakfast. She awoke with a renewed sense of accomplishment. Sure, she had never won Best Bloom and her flowers weren’t as beautiful as the ones in the forest, but Rosebriar had chosen her. That had to mean something, right? And she had gotten to go on the adventure of a lifetime.
Alina sipped her tea as she went out into the rose garden to inspect which blooms she would cut for the judging later that morning. She did some work and then selected the blooms. She had gotten a mixture of reds and pinks and yellows, displaying them in the same beautiful vase her friend had given her when she moved.
Alina sat the vase on her doorstep and then left to see what her neighbors had put out. She stopped and chatted along the way, inspecting daisies and bee-balm and whatever else had been put forward. They were all beautiful. She saved the worst for last, however, waiting to see Beatrice and her forever-winning roses only after she had seen everyone else who had put in hard effort.
But when she got there, the judge, Beatrice, and a few of her neighbors were present. They were standing outside Beatrice’s front door.
“I don’t know what would’ve eaten them,” Beatrice was whining to the judge. “I swear, they were all here yesterday!”
“If you don’t have any flowers, I can’t judge them,” The judge, a spry man in his mid-nineties, was explaining patiently. “Next year try again.”
With that final statement, the man turned away, heading to the next house.
The next house.
That was her house! Alina realized this with a start, before casting a glance back at Beatrice’s fuming face.
She might actually have a chance at winning! Alina ran all the way back to her cottage, wanting to be present when the judge came by. She made it, panting, just in time. The jaunty old man came down the road, trailed by a few neighbors. Alina stood up straight next to her roses.
“Wow, look at these. I remember yours from two years ago, too,” The judge said kindly to her.
“Thank you,” Alina said.
“Well, there really isn’t any competition,” the judge said, and dug about in his pocket.
The man presented Alina with a ribbon, and she took it with with numb fingers.
“Congratulations!” The judge said, taking the vase of flowers. They could be displayed in the village community hall for the next couple of days before being dried and put away with all the previous winners.
“Thank you,” Alina said dumbly, unable to believe it.
She had won! After four years of hard work, she had finally done it! Sure, Beatrice’s roses got eaten and that was likely the only reason Alina bumped up the roster, but she was holding the ribbon. Alina stared down at it, feeling the embroidered threads under her fingertips.
She watched as the judge left, taking with him the procession. She sat down on her porch step to take a moment, before heading back into her rose garden.
A rose dragon skittered away as she approached, and Alina shot a wide grin at it.
“I won!” She announced to the plants.
Alina went further into the garden, but something caught her eye. A new rosebush with fresh dirt around it was near the edge of the garden. A small rose dragon stood in front of it, staring up at her.
“Hello,” Alina said hesitantly.
The little dragon coughed once, and then spoke in a high reedy voice:
“A gift, as thanks.” Each word was pronounced slowly and carefully, and realization dawned on Alina. Clysclyptera had sent this.
“Thank her for me,” Alina told the little dragon, who nodded and scampered off. Alina stepped forward and inspected the bush. They were crystal roses, the same kind that Beatrice grew. Alina’sa grin widened even further. She’d been given all she needed to beat the woman next year—and every year after that.
A whinny broke Alina out of her thoughts. She looked up and saw Rosebriar near the treeline. The unicorn was holding a rose in her mouth. Alina approached, and saw that it was a fully-grown crystal-type rose, the same that grew in Beatrice's garden.
Realization galloped across Alina’s mind. Rosebriar tossed her mane, one eye winking before chewing the rose to bits. Alina laughed. Of course Rosebriar wasn’t above a little cheating.
“You ate them!” Alina cried.
THE END
