Flowers bloomed all around.

Daisies, black-eyed Susans, clovers, milkweed, and dandelions bobbed in a light breeze that smelled of fresh growth and damp soil. Sunlight fell over low rolling hills and pooled in the dips between, and clouds were scattered in fluffy handfuls in a rich blue sky.

Two boys sat together on one of those low hills, one behind and the other in front, very patient as his hair was braided.

Amandis worked slowly, and plucked flowers from the hillside to weave them in Diadne's hair. He'd had a lot of practice, and his fingers were skilled as a result. He probably could have finished the braid in a matter of minutes. But Diadne's hair was like threads of gold, soft as down, and smooth as the fine silks that passed in caravans through their village, and so it was always the same--Amandis took his time just to savor the feeling.

The wind blew again. Birds glided overhead. Children played in the distant town, and the ghost of laughter reached their ears over the meadow. At last Amandis was satisfied and finished the braid, tying it off with a bow.

"Done," he said.

Diadne swept it over his shoulder for a look, then cast an amused glance back at him. "You put half the meadow in it. You know it's a pain picking all these out at night, right?"

"Stay at my place, I'll take them out for you."

Diadne shook his head, still with a smile. There was a moment of quiet before he spoke again and said, "When I die, plant flowers on my grave. Then my spirit will live on forever."

The words came out of nowhere, but Amandis wasn't surprised. Whimsical things like this came out of Diadne's mouth all the time, and that was just one of many things Amandis liked about him.

"What are you talking about? You can't die before me."

He wrapped Diadne in his arms and planted a kiss at the corner of his jaw.

The words were spoken lightly, but deep in his heart, Amandis prayed that they would be true.

Diadne smiled and leaned against him, and for a while, on that ordinary spring day, Heaven embraced them both.

~<>~

Two years later, side by side, two boys departed from a quiet village in the plains and joined their kingdom's military. When they reached their destination, Amandis gave Diadne a necklace with an enchanted seed burrowed in its center.

Neither of them said as much, but their idle, comfortable lives were gone, and when they locked eyes, each could tell the other knew.

~<>~

Diadne was a simple man. He thought that's what people would say if someone asked what he was like. Nothing about him was exceptional, save maybe for his hair, but that had all been cut at his shoulders.

He liked flowers, springtime, and was very fond of honey. The only other thing he was very animated about--and he thought people would also say this if asked--was not a thing but actually a person, the man he'd grown up alongside. Amandis.

Right now, Amandis's blood soaked his clothes.

It was slick, sticky, and cooled all too quickly in the snowfall. His hand, clutched around Amandis's right side, was already stained red and numb. Though in truth, he wasn't sure whose blood had painted it, nor whether the numbness was due to the cold night air or blood loss. His other hand was only in slightly better condition, and the only sensation left there was pain in his joints from keeping an iron grip on Amandis's wrist.

Side by side, with his arm around his friend's waist and Amandis's over his shoulders, Diadne carried them both through the thickening snow. He'd shed his mortal agony somewhere behind them. He was hardly better off than Amandis, but all he felt was a deep chill, and a fatigue he knew would bring his last rest.

He couldn't say why he was going to the trouble of dragging Amandis through the snow, away from the battlefield. They'd both known that someday they would die in battle and be left to rot on the fields of war. It was their fate, their duty as soldiers.

Maybe it was just that he thought that that fate was far too cruel for someone he'd loved for so long.

If possible, he would've wanted Amandis to live a long life, one full of luxury and free of hardship, and with many people to mourn his death when it came, gently and quietly, to whisk him away in the night. Or to at least die painlessly, in a meadow under the spring sun, as if he were only nodding off for a nap. He'd always loved to do that.

But now that he could feel his friend's life draining out on his side, Diadne found that there was no storm in his heart. No monsoon to pour from him in strangled sobs and searing tears. There was a lake, perhaps. A vast, unending grief, too deep to perceive the bottom.

But it was peaceful. He thought maybe that's because he was dying too. That, at least, gave him a wisp of joy.

They passed into a little antre, where there was shelter from the snow. Diadne helped Amandis to sit against the rough stone.

A rattling sigh escaped Amandis's lips. How familiar that sigh was, how horrid it was now. When Amandis spoke, his voice was wet and congealed.

"What a shame." He coughed faintly, and red tinted his pale lips. "If I'd made it home from this. . ."

His gaze seemed distant, but he blinked then and shook his head. "Hey, Diadne, let's meet again next time, yeah? Maybe. . .if I'm lucky, you can be mine then."

Diadne smiled. "Next time."

It was a vow, even though he knew there was no way either of them could keep it.

Amandis smiled back for a brief second before he was overcome with harsh coughs. Blood welled in his mouth and dripped from his chin. These were his last moments.

Gently, Diadne took Amandis's face in his hands, and for the last time, he kissed lips that were already cold.

Amandis breathed his last with the ghost of joy on his face.

Diadne went back into the snowfall and stumbled on.

For minutes, or for hours. After however long, he reached the edge of a wood, and the last of his strength faded. He fell into the snow, closed his eyes, and discovered that peace wasn't the right word for how he felt. Acceptance would be a better word.

But there was still a bitter regret within him that in the end, he was dying alone, an unbelievable distance from his family and friends.

That was the last thought he had time for. In the cold, still night, his breath scattered and disappeared.

Next to him, lying on the snow, his pendant lit with a soft glow and unfurled a sprout.

At the edge of the woods near a flourishing trade town, there was a shrub.

He was by no means a notable shrub. About the size of a healthy young melon, with ordinary leaves and ordinary branches. He did have some nice white flowers, and bees would sometimes rest on their petals, take some of his pollen, and fly away. He liked bees very much, and butterflies as well. Springtime was his favorite because the bees and butterflies came the most then. Sometimes he even got to raise the butterflies' young and feed them on his ordinary leaves. That, he thought, was quite a special thing when one was by no means a notable shrub.

For a good while, the woods were quiet, and this little shrub lived a peaceful, routine life. He sheltered birds and squirrels, raised caterpillars, and slept in the winters, dreaming of spring to come.

One day, when the caterpillars had just hatched and begun to munch on his tender new leaves, the woods were loud.

It wasn't because of the animals, or because of the plants. In fact, this racket had chased away all the critters of the forest and caused the plants to shut their ears tightly.

The shrub was a curious shrub. He got up and walked into the forest.

He was notable in that way, he guessed. In this wood, there were only a few other beings like him who could leave their roots, but they were all far older than he. Probably, they knew what this racket was about.

He walked a while. The noise died after some time, but he felt something in its absence. A vibration, or a pressure. It grew louder, or heavier.

Near the pond where the animals liked to drink, there was a creature sitting on the stone slab.

It was strange. He'd never seen anything like it before. It almost looked like him--it was the same shape, but this creature was colored strangely. It had no leaves, flowers, or bark. It muttered to itself and threw small stones into the pond, churning its surface into chaos.

He stood behind a tree and peeked out only enough to observe this odd new being. As if winter had suddenly come back, all of his sap felt frozen, cold from the inside. He shivered and made a soft noise.

The creature's head whipped up. His first instinct was to be still, as a shrub should be.

His second was to pelt through the forest back to his roots. It was this which his body obeyed, and when his thoughts caught up, he was already sprinting away.

Behind him, the creature crashed through brush and knocked into trees. It called out to him to wait. He ran faster.

He had spent many springs, summers, and autumns in these woods. He was familiar with every inch of its floor, and before long, the creature's loud, clumsy chase was behind him. It faded further and further. He reached his roots and retreated back into them, once more becoming an ordinary shrub.

A short time later, the creature stumbled out of the fringe of the forest and stopped. It panted for breath and bent slightly, hands on knees.

"What. . .what the hell. . ."

It was very winded. He thought maybe this creature was usually lazy and didn't move much. But he thought that too was probably wrong, since lazy creatures were also quiet and didn't make so much noise.

It recovered its breath and stood straight again, scanned the plains beyond the woods, and raked a hand through the chestnut-colored hair upon its head. Then it cupped its hands around its mouth and shouted, "Hey! Where'd you go? Come back!"

His leaves quivered. What a fearsome being this thing was.

Its gaze fell on him again, and he stilled at once. Even his sap stopped in his branches.

It walked closer and crouched down. "No way. . ."

It reached out with a hand, almost hesitant, and tried to touch one of his branches. He pricked its finger with a thorn instead.

It drew its hand back with a sharp, indignant "Ow!"

And then it sat for a while and watched him.

"Hey, can you. . .hear me?" Its voice was threaded with both uncertainty and self-doubt. "Are you a. . .a faerie or something?"

He was still. So this creature was curious too. He relaxed a bit as a breeze blew through, ruffling his leaves and laughing through his branches.

The creature stood up again with a scoff. "What am I even doing? A faerie. I really am an idiot."

He stirred. Now that he had calmed some, this creature actually didn't seem very scary. And anyway, it certainly didn't seem interested in hunting a shrub.

So he crept out from his roots and, squatted behind a nearby tree, poked his head out.

The creature was still standing beside his shrub. Its back was to him.

He deliberated, then softly asked, "What kind of creature are you?"

The creature jolted, then turned around. For a long interval, it was quiet and still, its mouth hanging open. At last, it said, "What do you mean, 'what kind of creature am I'? I'm a boy."

"Oh." He looked at this creature again. "I'm also a boy. But you don't look like a plant."

"You. . .What? I'm not a plant. I'm human." The human boy looked at him too. He seemed baffled. "What are you?"

He came out from behind the tree. "I'm a shrub."

". . ."

Another long silence passed. Then the human boy said, "You're a dryad."

He considered this. It seemed more-or-less correct--though he was a bush and not a tree. "Mm-hm."

". . .Do you have a name?"

He considered this as well. Then he shook his head. "Do you?"

"Yeah. Audric."

"Audric." He said it slowly. It had a nice taste. Then he asked, "What's a human?"

And that was how they met.