The wildflowers had begun to get opinions.
This was, Arvella thought, not the correct way to describe what was happening, but it was the most accurate. They had always followed her, the convergence expressing itself through the simple language of growing things. This had been true since her awakening and she had learned to think of it as background noise.
But the wildflowers in the past five days had developed a preference for proximity.
They had appeared, unasked, on the window ledge of the council building. On the path between the Alpha house and the healing circle. In a ring around the base of the central fire that was precise enough that Draven had noted it in writing and filed the note under a category Levi had labeled, without apparent irony, Floral Infrastructure. They were not b
