Submission (#7883) Approved

Tucked beneath the shade of Faerindell’s towering sakura Eldertree, where pink fallen petals gather like soft snowfall and the air is warm with mana, grows a rather peculiar little plant known as the Whimfern.

At first glance, it looks like a tangle of curling pink vines, each one no thicker than a kittom’s whisker, if they have whiskers that is. They sprout low to the ground in clusters , and their color is beautiful and delicate, softer than sakura petals, but brighter than cotton candy, and the leaves reflect faintly when touched by the light. They grow in soft spirals, almost like the plant is always mid twirl, dancing slowly in place like a ballerina.

But the most curious part of the Whimfern isn’t its shape or color. It’s its interesting and different smell.

As soon as someone gets close, the air turns sweet, almost dizzyingly so. The smell changes from person to person, and no one’s quite sure how. To some, it smells like sugar dusted fruit. Others say it’s like warm tea with wild honey. Siobhan once bent down to sniff one and promptly laughed, claiming it smelled exactly like her favorite bakery from home.

The blooms only open in the golden hour, when the sun sinks low and casts the whole forest in peach light. Tiny heart shaped flowers unfurl from the center of the curls, each one no bigger than a pomu’s paw. Fireflies seem drawn to them, settling among the vines as if they’re old friends returning home.

Despite their delicate look, Whimferns are hardy and grow in tangled patches along shaded forest paths. Wanderers often take clippings to tuck behind their ears or tie into bundles for keepsakes. Locals say they’re lucky, especially if you find one with a twist in the shape of a spiral heart.