I tend my garden alone, growing plants that I tend to prove I am sane.

I can break minds with a gesture, but flowers have none to break. My endless smile is not dampened by unconquered prey, but brightened by the prospect of things I have no power over.

It’s comforting, the knowledge that, for all our power, we can still not control such a large section of life. We are not unstoppable, no matter what they might think.

The others do not share my optimism on the issue, preferring to burn forests to cause suffering to creatures capable of pain. They deliver prisoners to me, for my knowlege of toxins, hallucionogens and painful plants is far greater than the rest’s put together.

I try to keep my patients happy, at the very least. Though they may be defiant till the end, I talk to them. They are people, after all. I learn stories from their mute lips, tales of bravery triumphing over the forces of darkness, the time of heroes and the light.

I wish I was a hero, but all I have is plants.