Submission (#7844) Approved

Flicker gave one last sleepy chirp before nestling into the moss again, and Mavis took that as her cue to move along. “Rest well, little light,” she murmured, brushing her paw over the soft glow left in his wake.

The path ahead twisted deeper into the trees, where the light dipped low and the air thickened with cool dampness. Above her, branches wove like lace, stars caught between their silhouettes. She didn’t have a destination in mind, she rarely did, but that was the thing about Silveil. It always showed you something if you just kept walking.

A few steps later, the scent hit her.

Sweet, but not cloying, more like sugar boiled down with a splash of something floral, and a hint of citrus that caught the edges of her nose. It tugged at her curiosity like a ribbon on her wrist. She slowed her steps, ears tilting forward, sniffing the air with interest.

There, growing low at the base of a slanted tree, was a patch of plants she hadn’t seen before.

They looked like lanterns, in a way. Broad leaves curled around a bulbous center that glowed pale gold, soft as candlelight behind parchment. The glow pulsed gently, and with each pulse came that same warm, sugary scent, like a treat left to cool on a windowsill. Small translucent filaments, like the fronds of sea anemones, fluttered around the bulb whenever the air stirred.

“Oh,” Mavis breathed, dropping to her knees beside it. “You smell like a dream.”

She leaned in and gave the edge of one glowing petal a careful sniff. The sweetness lingered, but now she caught a hint of something familiar, manaberry, maybe, or some cousin of it. Her stomach gave a soft grumble, and she laughed. “That’s unfair. You’re not even food.”

The plant responded with the faintest shiver, one of its fronds brushing her paw. It tickled.

“I’ll call you Sugarwisp,” she whispered, brushing a bit of dirt from the petal’s edge. “You smell like stories I forgot I knew.”

She stayed a little while, watching the Sugarwisps gently sway, their light reflecting in the dewdrops scattered over the nearby grass. The forest around her was quiet save for the occasional creak of wood, and the rustle of leaves

Eventually, she rose, giving the plant one last fond glance. “I’ll come back,” she promised. “Maybe I’ll bring Flicker. I think he’d like you.”