In a world unrecognizable by the people who inhabit earth now live, wildlife and the gods and goddesses who take care of it cherish the land beneath their feet. It’s the heart and will of a god or goddess to love and take care of their wildflower. As long as their piece of wildlife grows they will continue to breathe and be a part of the earth, rather if it dies off they will lose their connection to the earth.

Pinophet’s flower is a scrawny little thing. The stem is almost brown, there are no leaves. The few petals that stand look to be wilting, they seem to be white yet they are so wrinkled you can hardly tell it’s even a petal. The flower is barely the size of a finger. The flower has been that disgusting little thing since the day she was born into the earth, no one can seem to understand her feelings towards it. Every other god or goddess was born with a magnificent tree or wonderful full flower. Why should she be stuck with this thing? Why can’t she have Tilaphia’s  willow tree?

Pinophet stares for hours in the grass, so long that the soft bristles will be marked into her skin. She looks for so long and no matter what she does her anger grows. She can’t recognize the feeling. All she knows is that she wants so badly to covet what she cannot have. The willow tree is everythings she wishes she had in a piece of wildlife. She decides to forget about Tilaphia’s and look for her piece of teather.

Except Pinophet knew exactly where her flower was, she had placed it in her pocket. The pocket that was right under where she was laying. As she peels it out the tears start to flow. How could she be so ungrateful? The pitiful little petals all fall off the prawny little stam before the entire flower disintegrates into her palm. She misses it now, the charming delicate thing. Now it’s gone, and Pinophet would be too.