Meadow's forehead creased deeply as she examined each of the plants in turn. It seemed that they were withering, they were struggling. The ground was still damp... they had all the water they needed, if they wanted it. Why did it seem that they didn't want it? Why weren't they taking it on, and the nutrients along with it? Why were they still sick and dying? Her heart hurt. Her heart hurt, and she wasn't happy to see them struggling like this. More and more closely, she examined each plant as she went. Meadow only found herself getting sadder the more she looked. After spending all summer helping to tend the plants, they were sick. How could she help?
It wasn't long before Fern appeared, and Puff as well. Meadow's stricken expression was at the fore as she greeted her mother, beckoning the soft grey woman to where she stands. She's quick to indicate the withering of the plants in the garden. With yellowed leaves and an overall sad look to them, Meadow can't help but let go a soft whimper. Mom would know, and if not mom, then maybe one of the healers. Gwynevere had to know if mom didn't... right?
Concern splashed across her face, Meadow looks to Fern for the answers. Mom was the first line of defense against the unknown. Heck, she was the first line of defense against the known too, but that was beside the point for now. Things were changing, and autumn was bringing on differences that Meadow wasn't prepared for. Change was hard, even if the change was something like the seasons. Meadow didn't know so much came along with it.
