After the Sculptor now Dancer or what not left, the Rock was once again left on its lonesome. Not that a rock needed company. Before the rock had gotten pushed away by the sculptor's cold shoulder, it was pressed into the ground and dug up a bit of soil, filling in the crack on its body. Of course, this didn't truly fix it and was just a temporary filling, just like the hole in the rock's heart that could never be truly filled.

Then again, if a rock had a heart it would be weird, a hollow inside would be preferable and the norm. There was a part of the rock's core that could be called the heart and even had a bit of red to it, likely from iron content. Then again the whole talk about heart and holes was more philosophical than physical.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Given enough time, the dirt packed into this crack could truly become one with the rock, but the devastating forces of erosion such as rain and wind would strike long before then. As the nature with rocks is that they got smaller throughout their lack-of-lifespan due to such forces, rather than larger. Besides, without the pressure of being deep underground, this soil trapped between two valleys wouldn't be able to match the toughness of the rest of the rock, becoming a soft scar or Achilles heel.

If the rock was alive, it would consider removing the soil, or perhaps attempt to add more so that the soil could take the brunt of natural forces, letting it last longer. Such a thought was instantly destroyed by a simple happening. It just so happened to be the season for weeds to release their seeds into the air and one such seed managed to find itself to the soil between the crack. Even in such a small space, such a hardy plant could grow and widen the crevasse for more space, ringing a death bell for the rock's wholesomeness.