You asked of your sentient moss companion to attempt and cover the unbloomed flower with its greenish fibbers. They did so, skidding off your neck and down the length of your arm on which you held the lily. The flower whimpered as your sentient-moss-on-neck wrapped its verdant body around it, patches of greenery concealing the alluring presence.

The petite beast stopped, its yellow eyes dimming. It shook its head, disorientated and shaken. Raising its gaze to notice you, it bent its back and pushed the rest of its body aback. You rose the axe above your head, waving it towards the frog-like-creature. It stood unmoving yet frenzied until you made an agonistic step towards it. It wheeled around, rushed, and soon disappeared from the bushes it came.

You lowered the axe with a sigh of relief. “Maybe its best to keep it covered until later,” you said.

Sentient-moss-on-neck whispered many words, most of them in approaval. No other carnivore or critter troubled you on your way out of the morass, and you soon left the Russet Swamp, although a bit away from the waggon and Carinda’s gaze. The flower was cryptic; it was as if neither you or it knew what needed to be done for it to blossom. You both had guesses, at least. You asked your mossy companion to unwrap, and then settled the flowering swamp plant on the grassy field below.

The moistened moss relocated back to its scarf-like form under your neck. You winced, the bright winter sun temporary blinding you. You sat a few meters away from the flower, watching as it basked in the sun.

It made a noise as the sentient-moss-on-neck left but remained silent even after you called for it. Time passed, and you had no other choice to wait for something—anything—to happen. It did. With a brilliant golden flash the lily unravelled, its petals and sepals as bright as a burning torch. A dew of liquid gold-like fluttered across its reddish-amber leaves, there but refusing to slid off and fall.

“I feel great! It feels so amazing, to be full of vigour, of energy, of life.” Its voice cracked like a flame. It danced, its petals and leafs fluttering in seeming uncontrollable yet somehow graceful manner. “It feels strange. It feels weird. It feels undeserving, but I have bloomed now irregardless!”

You scratched your cheek, “So you will -not- poison those who’ll eat you?”

“It was not poison … It was an unbloomed gift, a remedy to all ills and worse.”

You sat down, narrowing your eyes at the flower. “If Vera eats you -now-, will she be healed?”
“There is nothing—I feel—what flows through me cannot heal.”

You scratched your cheek. “You are sentient now, eating you will be painful, and that's ignoring every other uncanny detail.”

The voice boomed passionately. “I know—a deep feeling—that this is what I am and should do.”

Be it true, you felt no need to argue with it. “Does she need to eat your petals from you itself?”

The flower shook its heavy bud. “The parts of me will carry the potency for some time yet.”