Avyr knew Lily well. He knew theshapeof her, the form of her soul. It was inevitable, he couldn’t help but think, when it came to living with someone— to have been such a close connection with someone over the past few years— that he would have eventuallyunderstoodher. It was not a thing hindered by the differences between them— and thereweredifferences between them, as inevitable as the tawny fur on his back, or the paws on his feet— for it was something borne ofseeing. Of knowing, the patterns of things, the way her mood ebbed and flowed with the coming and going of triumph and tragedy.

It was not unusual for her to be… enthusiastic… about whatever project caught her fancy at the moment. She’d been like that with formations to start out with, he knew— it was his judgement that was the very same impulse that led her, in some way, to her initial devotion to the way of cultivation.

The difference betweenthenandnowwas that Lily did not oftenfail. Setbacks, yes— those were common enough for someone who walked such a volatile path, and she had learned to weather those as they’d come. She’dseenher as she learnt to weather those. Yet, failure? This sort of failure, the pernicious andrealthing, that coiled its way in around her and scattered all her effort, and left her likethis— a morose wreck on the couch, absentmindedly snacking on jerk as she worked on her homework—thatwas unusual.

She would get over it eventually. Avyrknewthat she would— if there was one thing he had great confidence in, it was Lily’sresilience. It was a resilience that continually awed him, whenever he saw it in action. It was so fundamentally, so intrinsicallyher… he was certain that eventually she would move past the failure, and find something else that captured her attention so; he didn’twanther to. Standing there, in the corner of the kitchen, looking out of the corner of his eye to where she sat slumped… hewantedher to have the very best. He wanted her to push through this andwin, even though it might be impossible—

He wanted to help her. He wanted to be a good friend; he just didn’t knowhow. So, for a long second he just… stood there, in that not-knowing, ignorance steeping, just…

“Avyr.” His gaze snapped over to Lily, who… she hadn’t shifted from her earlier slump, he would have noticed if she did, but shehadfocused on him. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling well? You look ill…” she frowned. “Do you actually get sick all that often? I can’t imagine that there’s a lot of human diseases that affect you…

He huffed out a laugh. “I do, occasionally. Most commonly when I eat something my body doesn’t agree with, but occasionally I catch some sort of bug or another… it’s been a while since the last time I had one, given how little I see other cats, but itdoeshappen. I had a nasty disease the year before I moved to East Saffron.”

“Oh.” It was a whisper. “Glad to hear it…” howironic, his mind could not help but claw to the thought— thatLilywas the one who’d noticedhisdistress first, even despite everything…

Well, in this moment— in this one step, forward, to her, for her, he could borrow a little bit of her boundlessresolve. For her, he could simplyact— and damn the consequences. He would scatter them before him, so much sand and ash.

He prowled forward, slinking up beside his friend and resting his head against the side of her leg. For a long moment, he just stood there, warm— silent, his companionship the companionship of afriend. A reminder of just what they had in common, the two of them.

There was so much that could have been said in that moment. Neither of them spoke a word.

For a long minute it was just—

Them.

What felt like an interminable time later, Lily drew in a shuddering breath, slumping further against the couch. “I must be a sorry sight… I didn’t mean to make you worry.” Avyr didn’t ask her how she’d figured it out— it was obvious, after all. “I really thought I had it, then… Ihad it. I had grasped the sand in my hands, and yet the wave came and took it all away… I don’t know what I can do, Avyr.” Almost plaintive. “What can I do?”

The problem was that he didn’t knoweither. He wasn’t a formation specialist, and they both knew it. He had some minor expertise in the art of herbalism— not a great bit, but enough to gain recognition for his skills in the class— but he certainly wasn’t the sort of generational talent that Lily was. Not even in his greatest field, much lessformations.

He had a sinking feeling, though, that whatever Lily was doing… whatever was pressing her to devote the whole of herself to accomplishing it, whatever would make her trawl the depths of the library andsever her very spiritjust for the chance at seeing it done… He had the suspicion that whatever it was, it was forhim. He wasn’t sure how that made him feel.

What could he do, what level of wonder, what gift, what effort, whatlovecould he give to match a friend who would sacrifice themselves for him so? The last time he’d felt so helpless, so soul-deep touched, he…

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Well, the memory of his parents’ last, desperate fight was still burned fiercely into his memory.

Ultimately, though, all he could offer was to just be there, silently supportive.

Ultimately, that seemed like it almost might even beenough.

………

Avyr stood in front of his torch ginger. It was not a subtle thing, compared to the other spiritual plants that were being cultivated by his fellow students— its stalk shot straight upward taller than he was, unfurling into a brilliant, showy flower that looked richer than most cuts of finely marbled meat. To his less physical senses, it shone with a brilliant, bloody qi… whichshouldhave, if his efforts had borne fruit, been a deep, almosticyyin. Instead, it was just a powerful blood-aligned treasure.

That wasn’t bad. Compared to some of the lackluster or even dead plants of his fellow classmates, it was clearly leaps and bounds ahead. It wasn’t the complete transformation that he’d wanted, but it was still the best plant in the greenhouse— even including the fragrant golden spiritual daisy that their instructor had grown.

It was not a formation that could upturn fate and change the course of a life, though, and in comparison to the sort of thing that Lily pulled out daily…

He sighed. It was no use comparing himself to others. He was himself, and that was that. He wascontentwith that; he did notwantto be Lily, he just… wished he could support her better.

Well, no point in waiting. He grabbed his pot— awkwardly, as these things tended to go— and half carried, half dragged it up to the center of the room. Their instructor— a portly sort of woman who Avyr could only describe askindcooed over each plant in turn… though Avyr couldn’t help but think that she wasextrainterested in her plants. “Everyone did a good job. Just because your plants didn’t take well doesn’t mean that you didn’tdowell! Sometimes these things just happen.” Some took a bit of reassurance from that, clearly; some knew where they stood, and didn’t allow themselves to get false hope.

Avyr was the best of them, and so he did neither; heknewthat he’d won. It was only ever more and more clear— without the Song clan scions present, he and Lily were the best cultivators of their cohort.

The instructor went past each pot, inspecting them cursorily before shooing everyone back. “Good, good… today we’re going to be talking briefly about the mycorrhizal associations of spirit herbs and spiritually charged fungi— or even whole spiritually charged fungi— which you’ll soon find can be rather critical to high level growth…” he already knew about that. In fact, he tended to already know aboutmostof what she taught, having learnt it from his parents, or from the library, or some other source…

It did not mean that the lecture wasn’t valuable. Rather, hefocusedas the instructor showed them the techniques that would allow them to gently modify the interrelation between different soil-elements and their plants, and all the complicated science that went into it… and yet further still, the element so veryspiritual; holding still the mystery of qi and of the transformation of the myriad things, and of the secret and profound. That, he found himself enjoying most of all.

It was a rather productive lesson, ultimately, and he found himself in a good mood as he returned home. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and spring seemed to have taken a particular interest in their courtyard today, bidding a late-blossoming plum tree to a sudden and splendorous bloom. It really was a wonder to see, he couldn’t deny. The scent of blossoms on the wind…

Lily was standing in the courtyard when he arrived, staring up at the tree, absent in that way he’d come to associate with her meditation. Perhaps she was sensing something— or perhaps she was merely taking in the natural qi of the world. Either or, he was just glad she was feeling better.

She smiled the moment he entered, though she did not look his way. Clearly, she could see him regardless. “It’s happy to see you.” He blinked, cocking his head at her— which finally got her to giggle and turn to face him. “Sorry, I just had to… you know, all cool and cultivator-like. Very cryptic.” She raised a hand, pointing at… the tree. He squinted, pushing forth his aura and trying tosensewhat she was talking about— only to flick his tail in surprise as a different sensationreached back. It was a quiet and gentle sense, the quiescent and quickened presence of a nascent spiritual herb, turning to him as plants turned to the sun. Pleased, he flicked a bit of his qi out of aura with its next rotation, sending it up to the plant, which greedily sucked it up.

Slowly, it began to transform— a gentle thing, an almost imperceptible thing, but he’s spent enough time looking for the same sort of change in his torch ginger— at least before the university had ruined it— that he could see the subtle essence of it swirl and transform.

Lily could clearly see it too, as she smiled as she looked up at it. “I wonder what they’re going to be like when they grow up. It’s a really weak spiritual fruit…” but the fact that a spiritual fruit had managed to grow in East Saffron at all was a worthy marvel. Besides, whatever came of it, they would not be there to see it blossom into the fullness of its power. That would be for whoever managed to secure the house after them…

He liked that, that scattered continuity… “golden, I imagine. It has supped on the qi of radiant sunlight, and that will change it. To what form…” even he could not know; his comprehension was not yet deep enough, his understanding of the natural world not yet complete enough. Yet, it did notneedto be complete in order to appreciate the marvelous mystery of it. “A treasure, from us to whoever finds it.”

“I like the sound of that. Of the connection…”

“There reallyisa connection between all things, no?” It was just a passing statement, but Lily’s eyes widened as she heard it, a brief little gasp of surprise passing over her. Struck, just for a moment, stunned by something only she knew.

Then, she laughed.

She laughed, her peculiarhumanlaugh, so different from his own and yet able, nevertheless, to evoke within him a suffusing warmth as she grinned and turned her face up to heaven, and laughed. Her hair spilled back behind her, catching— the sunlight raced to leap into the wavy curls of her hair, splashing off her skin and trickling into the gentle curve of her eyes, jubilant and rendered in that single moment so utterlygolden—

A divinity, caught in freedom; the spirit of some immortal, descended to earth; blessing, connection— he could not know. Yet he felt it nonetheless, in some core of himself deeper even that cultivation, where emotion stirred the deep of his soul. “That… oh, it all makes so muchsensenow.” She spun to him suddenly, pulling him into an impromptu embrace. “Thank you! Thank you so much, thank you—”

He could notbutbe happy.

Springtime was a time of joy indeed.

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