Hybrina

Chapter Seventeen: Garden

{Rosy: this is a sad chapter}

Rose had been dead for an hour or two now. Miller decided to pick up Rose, she headed towards the elevator, her eyes still full of tears. 2 gone within a month, 2 of her friends. She entered the elevator and pushed the garden button. Her heart was shattered.

Maybe if I didn't ask for help with my garden, Snowy would've been alive, maybe even Rose, maybe this all started because I wanted help with my garden. If Rose had gone to see Snowy instead of me, he could've saved Snowy. Maybe this is all my fault. Miller thought to herself, her eyes watering even more heavily as she walked towards a certain spot in her garden. A gravesite.

A bunch of graves, each of a dead mothcat guard. Each was nicely put together, flourished with various flowers and plants that fit well with the mothcat.

Miller walked over to the one decorated with lilies, daisies, and other lightly colored flowers. The name engraved on the stone was Snowy.

She dug a hole in the ground, placing Rose's lifeless corpse right outside the hole. Miller looked around before walking over to a large shack, it was made of gorgeous greyish-violet stones. She entered the shack and grabbed a large stone. She placed the stone on a table and etched Rose's name onto the tombstone. She grabbed the tombstone and a coffin too before walking out of the shack.

She gently nudged Rose's lifeless body into the hole she buried and then covered the hole up with loose dirt.

Miller placed the stone behind where she buried Rose, grabbed her shovel and sunk the tombstone into the ground more. She grabbed rose, primrose, and sunny lily seeds from her bag and planted them around the grave.

Miller stayed rigid as she stared at the grave, her face distorted with nothing but grief. Tears rolled down her cheek before she dried her fur with her paw. She paced around her garden for a couple of minutes. She laid down on the grass, surrounded by dandelions and lavender, her favorites.

The magenta grass was soft, and the scent of lavender helped calm her nerves. Being in the garden in general helped calm her nerves. She loved the garden, she always felt too nervous to leave it. She rarely ever left the palace, except for a few missions here and there. Outside of the palace scared her.

The few times she did leave the palace she lost both the ability to see in her left eye and her best friend. She was still brand new to the job. 5 years ago, she was 21 at the time and was finnally ready for her first mission after her hard work training. She had to make sure that there were no intruders trying to enter. And before she knew it, she was attacked, attacked by 2 catterflies. Her left eye was deeply scratched. Thankfully her friend Lyma was nearby, he ran over to Miller and... killed the catterflies to save his friend.

He rushed Miller into the palace's medical room to take care of the wounds inflicted on Miller. He stitched the wound and wrapped it securely in a bandage.

Miller thanked him, then ran off to the garden. Soon after Lyma came too, they read in the soft grass.

"Hey, Lyma." Miller greeted sadly.

"Yes, Miller?" He responded. Miller shook her head- Lyma was happy, and it wouldn't be fair to force her grief onto him.

"I hope you live a long, good life!" She answered cheerfully.

"I hope you do too, Miller." Lyma smiled at her hopefully.

...

A couple of days later...

Lyma was found...

Dead.

He fell to his demise. It was quite unusual. His wings were ripped out, he was covered in feathers, and on his torso some creature carved a '7' symbol His shimmering golden blood leaked from his insides.

No. No. NO! He can't be dead! Miller thought to herself, her eyes red from crying.

She carefully lifted him up and told Queen Sphynx about his death, Queen Sphynx was also devastated, but seemed to lack as much emotion, probably from all the trauma she already had.

Miller buried Lyma in the garden's graveyard. She was determined to study medicine and take care of Lyma's garden in his honor. And so, she did and was great at medicine.

Miller hated that memory of Lyma. He didn't deserve that, he should've lived a long, healthy, good life... but he didn't. Miller tends to blame herself for the event.

It was 1 am, she was tired, and the lavender soothed her. She quickly fell asleep in her garden.