It had been some time since Artume had returned to her Glade, as she had been wandering. And so much had happened - she had Bonded to Bold, for one. The Reindeer had never been to the Glade, having lived with Naskital for his entire life, and she couldn't wait to show him her beloved home.
The reindeer - bigger, bulkier than she - trailed behind her, having to push through the branches that she easily ghosted through. Her path to the Glade had been grown over, but her sure hooves easily picked their way along the remembered path. He, however, did not have such help, leaving him to crash noisily through the forest. Already, she was planning on how to teach him to walk silently, to step lightly so that leaves and twigs didn't snap beneath his hooves, to sway as he walked to avoid branches.
The deer stopped at the entrance to the glade, a pair of trees that had drooped to rest on each-other. A patch of flowers lay, almost dead, before them, and she lowered her head to breathe on them, smiling as they grew to full health, blooming into bright colors and many more returning to life than she had expected. How beautiful!
Artume smiled, stepping into the Glade.
And, oh! it was beautiful. It still wasn't back to its original beauty, was still faded with many dying and drooping plants, but there were flashes of bright colors here and there, and to her it was one of the most beautiful places in the Caves - that she had seen, at least. And, she was certain, anywhere she hadn't seen, too.
Bold raised his head, looking around. He didn't see the beauty that Artume did - it looked like a dying forest clearing to him, but His liked it, so he agreed,
There was a nice little spot where Artume liked to sleep. It was under the roots of an ancient tree, where the soil had crumbled. The roots were deeply set, allowing it to continue to live, and creating a deep hollow where she could lie down in.
But the ground there was only dirt, given, seeing as it was only crumbled soil. And yet, as she approached it, peering through the moss that grew over it, she could see buds of grass beginning to grow through the dirt. Little tiny things, only sprouts that hadn't even split into two yet, but they were there.
Lowering her head, Artume allowed her magic to flow into the grass buds. They didn't grow much, only enough to sprout into two, but it was a start.
The stag lowered her head, sniffing at the bed spot. She had always loved the scent of fresh blossom, of new life. It was unlike anything else, refreshing and crisp, often with a scent of sap. There was nothing better.
Flicking her ears, she turned back to watch Bold. He was still walking a slow circle around the Glade, trying to pick a spot to sleep on. Turning her head back to her own bed, she lowered her head, and attempting to breathe life into it.
And, well, perhaps it worked too well. The grass bloomed, growing and growing and growing, but so did weeds, burrs and dandelions blooming to the point that she had to back up so as to keep from being poked in the face.
Well then.
Well, that would be incredibly uncomfortable to lay on. She would have burrs digging into her, clinging to her fur, and even with Bold's help it would take a while to groom them out. So, with a sigh, she called out,
The reindeer paused, turning to face her from where he had been looking over a spot beneath a rather large tree with a critical eye.
The stag shook her head with a sigh, saying,
After quite a while, the burrs were gone, and the plants had been mowed down to a manageable level. Artume had tugged the dandelions up, tearing their roots from the ground to keep them from re-growing, but it left great, empty spots where there was nothing more than churned dirt.
The stag shook her head, Bold turning to find his sleeping space. Artume lowered her head, blowing on the dirt, watching as thick grass bloomed in the place of the dirt. There, that would be far more comfortable.
But now some of the grass was taller, thicker, than the rest, and that wasn't quite right. For a moment, Artume considered just grazing it down, but it would make more sense to make the rest of the grass as thick and as comfortable as the rest.
So she shook her head, swinging great antlers this way and that, before lowering her head to breathe her life-giving Magic over the shorter grass. It began to bloom, becoming a handsome shade of green that matched the longer patches, thicker and softer and plusher looking.