This was one of the easily traversible parts of the Viridian Labyrinth, a jumble of well-maintained dirt roads that allowed even flightless travelers a path through the lush growth of plants. It was located on the vast plains north of the Wild Sanctum, far enough that the magic that oozed from the crossed ley lines was no longer so strong and permeating that it prevented roads from being cut into the greenery. But the magic was strong in the air here, too, as everywhere in Gladekeeper's domain- roots pushed on- and upwards through the rocks and sand where the roads marked a hole in the canopy of stalks, and seeds sprouted where they landed and seemed to grow more leaves right before your eyes. Even now, a pair of spirals were crawling on the road, with fast fingers picking sprouts and grass off the walkway to keep it from being lost in the sea of green. Rozsada nodded a greeting to them as she passed.

As the snapper walked past gardens and fields, she felt a pang of something. She was a traveler at heart, she really was, but she'd thought of eventually retiring to a garden like this- or not exactly like this- these were well-maintained gardens, with things planted in neat rows or artfully assembled into sweeping ensembles of colors and flowers flowing over on top of each other like waterfalls of petals and colored leaves. What Rozsada had in mind was more jungle-like, a chaotic experimental garden. Or perhaps it was not at all the garden that enticed her, but what -or whom- she might find in it, hidden in the canopy of trees not quite like any other.

Rozsada sighed and shook her head. This wasn't the right place. She had a specific garden to find. It was one of those with neat rows of shrubs and herbs, but not as neat as many others because the dragon who lived there hadn't the eye for maintaining a neat row for form. And there it was- a familiar gate of bent-to-form tulip trees, with a sign of carved rock declaring this to be the home of a herb-healer. Rozsada passed under the lofty arch of living wood, and a few pale flower petals floated down and sattled on her hat.

The garden was full of weeds, and there wasn't a spot of bare earth visible. Cultivated plants grew in sections, arranged by utility rather than aestethics, and many a plant had a little label either tied on a branch or stuck on the end of a stick next to them on the bed. There were a few compost heaps scattered in various locations around the garden, and a small relaxation area was cleared in the shadow of a large alder tree. Halfway across the large garden was a ratty waddle fence boarding off the end half of the garden, where the myriad of medicinal plants was replaced by an almost monocultural field of tea bushes.

Among the tea bushes, pinching off the fresh brilliant green- almost chartreuse- new growth into a basket, was a golden brown pearlcarcher. She was like a dry leaf in the endlessly green landscape. As Rozsada walked closer, navigating the familiar moss-covered stones that marked where the paths between plants should be, she noticed that not only was the pearlcatcher like a dry leaf- she was also covered in drying leaves. Bundles of herbs were tied onto her wings, where the sun would dry them as she worked. Rozsada smiled. Plants grew, trees fell, but some things stayed the same.

"Hello!" Rozsada called. "Delivery for Lamstein!"

The leaf-covered pearlcatcher startled and flapped her rustling wings, rising a few feet to the air before setting down again, facing Rozsada.

"Rozsada!" Lamstein chided. "Don't sneak around like that!" Then her face softened and she exited the tea garden to greet the snapper properly. "It's good to see you again. Let me put these inside and I'll make us some tea."

Rozsada followed Lamstein along the wattle fence, to a copse of labeled trees that hid from view a house, a careful construction of wood and stone that would have stuck out like a sore thumb in the greenery if it weren't almost entirely obscured from view by vines and ivy crawling on it. A door was visible, left slightly ajar without much care. Lamstein led Rozsada into a wide room with vine-covered windows that filtered in light through a haze of green leaves. Potted plants that weren't so picky about lighting stood in clusters on the floor and hung from the ceiling, placed around a few low beds of various sizes, all empty. A large hearth took a large portion of the back wall, surrounded by a busy workbench and shelves full of herbs, salves, tinctures and other remedies and raw materials. In a basket on the workbench, nestled in wilted rue, was a large pearl.

"No patients?" Rozsada asked, observing the empty beds. "Everyone keeping healthy?"

"No patients right now," Lamstein said as she set her basket of freshly picked leaves on the bench next to her pearl and sighed. "Some time ago I was brought a veilspun hatchling with severe septicemia, Mother only knows how the poor thing had survived so far, and he was beyond herbal help at that point."

"Did he die?" Rozsada asked. Lamstein was young, and losing a patient had brought her down before.

"No, luckily," Lamstein said and unearthed a large copper kettle from somewhere under the bench. "but I had to use some pretty strong magic on him, you know, the kind that requires serious getting better later, and the mother was... not happy."

"Ah, I see," Rozsada nodded. Lamstein was an excellent herbalist and was increasingly more often than not able to not use visible magic while doing healing work. She was a plague dragon, after all, and especially here, in the Viridian Labyrinth, in the current political climate, that was not an easy thing to be. Last time Rpzsada had bee here, at least, the locals liked Lamstein well enough, but thongs could always change.

"Mmm," Lamstein agreed as she bustled around the hearth, filling the pot with water and a very generous handful of dark, wrinkled leaves. "I gave him as much herbs for aftercare as I could and told to bring him right back if he got worse, and they haven't been, which is good, but I keep wondering..." The pearlcatcher set the pot determinedly on the stove and turned back to Rozsada. "Would they... would they not bring him back, even if he got worse? You know. Because I'm. Plague."

Rozsada sighed. She wanted to tell the young pearlcatcher that of course they would, that the fear that came with love was always stronger than the fear that came with hatred, but she'd been around. So she hung her head and said, "We can only hope. But I can ask around, if you'd like."

"Really?" Lamstein asked. "Oh, thank you so much, Rozsada. Here, why don't you sit down while the tea boils? You must've been on your feet for the last week!"

The golden pearlcathcer herded amused Rozsada to settle down on what could be generously be called a chaise, and presented her with a little rattan table with a plate of honey cakes. The first one crumbled into dust in Rozsada's large, clumsy claws, but the second one merely broke into two halves that both made it to her mouth.

"These are good," she commented.

"Aren't they just?" Lamstein agreed. "There's a centaur herd nearby that makes them. They have a lot of interesting tradeables. I mostly trade them tea and medicines, myself."

Rozsada watched as Lamstein worked and prattled on about herbs and what the centaurs had to offer as she spread the fresh tea leaves on large trays to wilt, stoked the fire, stirred the teapot, and poured over various bottles and jars. The snapper could see a definite familial resemblance between Lamstein and her uncle, Couronne. The two pearlcatchers shared an un-plaguelike, almost manic, intrigue in plants and how they interacted with the body, though they approached the subject from very different directions. Both of their first reaction to seeing her after a long time was 'oh, I better make tea,' which made Rozsada almost tear up sometimes. The world could be a cruel and dangerous place, but to balance it out, there was always someone with an open door and a cup of tea, waiting for her to come.

Temporarily lost in a wish-world, Rozsada startled back to reality by the sound the sturdy teapot made as Lamstein set it down on the rattan able. The pearlcatcher set down two cups, the other one a significantly sturdier one for Rozsada, and poured them both steaming hot tea.

"Lamstein," Rozsada said as she peered at the oddly opaque liquid in her cup, "why is this white?"

"It has milk in it," Lamstein explained. "The centaurs sometimes drink it like this and made me try it. It softens the flavor and makes it less bitter."

Rozsada squinted at the pale liquid with calculating eyes. It smelled like tea, and Lamstein would never make her drink anything inedible. But milk... she was no expert but she thought it had something to do with mammals. "Where do the centaurs get it?" she asked.

"They make it, I think," Lamstein said as she took a careful sip of her own, slightly chipped, cup. "They wouldn't tell me how, though. I assume it's a trade secret."

"Mm," Rozsada said and finally dared to try the tea. It was... hard to describe. She had quite nothing to compare it to. It was definitely a much rounder taste, a softer taste. It sanded corners off the usual flavor of tea she hadn't thought possible to shear, thus bringing to the surface duller edges that had been lost among the sharp ones. Rozsada swirled the odd tea in her mouth. "This is very strange tea."

"But it's not bad, is it?" Lamstein encouraged.

"...no, it is not," Rozsada said, very carefully. She took another sip. "Now, I have mail for you."

"Ooh, mail," Lamstein said and set her cup on the table.

"This is from a horticulturalist on the Reedcleft Ascent," Rozsada said and dug a thick scroll and a small pouch from her bag. "He seemed very eager to meet me. And this is from Highland Scrub," she procured a lump wrapped in cloth and handed it over. Lamstein took the bundle eagerly and carefully unwrapped it, revealing a shlightly sunken cactus arm.

"And last but not least," Rozsada said and gave her a neatly wrapped, rattling box tied off with twine under which was a thick folded letter, "this is from your uncle. Directly from the Scarred Wasteland."

Lamstein took the package eagerly. She opened the letter, glanced it over quickly before tearing the paper on the box and digging in. "How's he doing?"

"Oh, same old," Rozsada said. "Still sneaking secrets out of the quarantine zone, working his experiments."

Lamstein studied her face closely. Rozsada thought the pearlcatcher was seeing exactly what she didn't want her to see there. "That's not all," she said.

Rozsada sighed. Lamstein knew her too well.

"He's getting lost in the woods," she admitted. "He's... he's slowly fading. I'm worried for him."

Lamstein nodded solemnly, almost as if she were expecting the news. "The same happened to my mother," she eventually said. "I thik he's finally stopping fighting it properly."

Rozsada looked into her cup, silent. She hand't been there to witness the ending, but she knew what had happened to Hydnellum. She knew Lamstein had aunts somewhere, slowly fading, wasting away.

"Visit him, will you?" Lamstein suddenly said, almost startling Rozsada. "He doesn't write often but I know he likes you. Help... help ground him. For a little longer."

Rozsada nodded. She would. And when the time came, because it would come, she would help ground Lamstein.