Ash skipped through the garden. She walked through the paths that broke up the rows of food, herbs, and flowers that grew. It was her peaceful place where everything worked in the order it should and with the direction she requested. Some of the other orphans joined her at times in the garden, but that was usually because the produce was soon to be harvested and they could get one of the first bites.

Though it was early enough in planting season that she was undisturbed by most. Only the flowers drew the interest of a few. Her hands worked to prop up the falling branches of plants and spray their soil with water. The trees required some trimming, but not much since she had done most of it before they started to bear fruit.

Ash's garden was a canvas of colors and hearty greens, a living mosaic that changed with the seasons. The air was always fresh here, filled with the earthy scent of soil and the sweet fragrance of blossoms. It was a place where time seemed to slow down, allowing one to savor the simple pleasures of life.

The garden was more than just a plot of land; it was a sanctuary, a place of learning and growth, both for the plants and for Ash herself. She had learned to listen to the whispers of the earth, to understand the language of leaves and petals. Each plant had its own needs, its own rhythm, and Ash had become attuned to them all.

As she moved through the garden, her hands were never idle. She tended to the young tomato plants, their stalks still tender and leaning slightly, craving the support that her stakes and ties provided. She whispered words of encouragement to them, as if her voice could instill them with the strength to reach towards the sun.

Nearby, the herb section was a riot of scents. Basil, thyme, and rosemary released their fragrances at the slightest touch. Ash pinched off the tips of the basil to encourage bushier growth, and as she did, the scent clung to her fingers, a reminder of the pesto she would make when the leaves were plentiful.

The flower beds were a particular joy. They were a patchwork quilt of colors, with marigolds, zinnias, and cosmos standing tall. The marigolds were more than just pretty faces; they were guardians, their pungent aroma deterring pests that would otherwise feast on the nearby vegetables. The zinnias and cosmos, with their bright blooms, attracted bees and butterflies, their delicate dances pollinating the garden's many inhabitants.

Ash paused to watch a honeybee as it flitted from flower to flower. She marveled at the bee's tireless work, a reminder that every creature, no matter how small, played a part in the garden's symphony. It was a symphony she conducted with care, ensuring each note, each plant, had its moment to shine.

The fruit trees at the far end of the garden were heavy with the promise of future harvests. The apple tree, in particular, was a source of pride for Ash. She had nurtured it from a sapling, planted when she arrived, and now it stood tall, its branches laden with the swelling forms of young apples. She reached up to snip away a few stray branches, opening up the canopy to let in more sunlight.

This was her world, a place where she could shape and be shaped, where the cycle of life was on full display. The garden was a teacher, imparting lessons of patience, resilience, and the interconnectedness of all things.

The other orphans sometimes asked her why she spent so much time in the garden, and why she poured so much of herself into the soil and plants. Ash would smile and invite them to join her, to feel the satisfaction of nurturing life, of watching something grow from a tiny seed to a flourishing plant.

Ash sat on a bench, her gaze sweeping over the garden, when she saw Greg.

“Greg, what are you doing?” she asked.

He looked up at her gaze. His back was hunched in hiding and his movements were slow.

“You promised me your time. Don’t think I have forgotten. Even while you ran off and got punished.”

“Oh yeah, that.”

“Don’t ‘oh yeah’ me. Where are Taylor and Brad? I thought Taylor would at least keep you all to your promise.”

“Me and Wilson ended up practicing sword fighting instead,” Greg responded bashfully.

“Can you get them now? I’m calling in my favor and you are working with me today. I have some work to do beyond the garden and need some help and an older orphan to escort me. Do hurry.”

"Alright, Ash. I'll get Brad."

Brad leaned back in his chair. He pushed the wooden game pieces across the game board. The boy across from him considered possible moves before making his move. Around the playroom, other kids used their free time to play games of their own. The place buzzed with conversations, but Brad stayed silent as he contemplated his next moves.

Greg found Brad still engrossed in his game, the intensity of his focus evident in the furrowed brow and the strategic placement of his game pieces. He barely acknowledged Greg as he made his next move.

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"Brad, we need to go," Greg said, his voice cutting through the din of the playroom. "Ash needs us in the garden. Remember the promise we made?"

Brad looked up, the competitive glint in his eyes relaxing as he remembered the commitment they had all made to Ash. “Oh yeah. We did have that to do sometime. Can I at least finish my game?”

Greg looked down at the game board. Brad shirked back. “Fine then. "Let's go," Brad said, standing up and leaving the game unfinished. He turned to the other player. “Sorry. Maybe we can finish another time.”

He followed Greg out toward the garden. The blue sky poked through a thin layer of clouds.

“So, what are we doing for her today?”

“I’m not sure of everything, but she needs to be escorted around by one of the older kids. In this case, us,” he replied.

“I guess we will find out.”

Ash led the way, her steps light and purposeful as she moved beyond the familiar confines of the garden. The freshly turned dirt beyond the walls beckoned, a blank canvas awaiting the touch of her green thumb. Greg and Brad followed; their curiosity piqued by the mystery of Ash's plan.

As they reached the edge of the garden, Ash turned to face her companions, her eyes alight with the vision she held in her heart. "You see this space here?" she began, gesturing to the expanse of soil. "It's more than just dirt. It's potential. It's the future."

Greg and Brad exchanged glances, unsure of what Ash had in mind but ready to lend their hands to her cause. "What's the plan, Ash?" Brad asked, his voice tinged with the respect he had for her knowledge of all things that grew.

Ash reached into the pockets of her bag and pulled out a handful of wildflower seeds. They were a mix of colors and shapes, each tiny seed a promise of beauty yet to unfold. "We're going to plant these," she said simply. "We're going to turn this bare patch into a sea of wildflowers."

The boys looked at the seeds, then at the vast area of dirt. "That's a lot of ground to cover," Greg remarked a hint of doubt in his voice.

Ash smiled, undeterred. "That's the beauty of wildflowers. They don't need much. Just a chance to take root. We'll scatter the seeds across the soil, and nature will do the rest. We won’t do it all in one day, but a lot can change in a single day."

"But why wildflowers?" Brad inquired, his mind seeking the purpose behind the actions.

Ash's smile widened as she explained, "Wildflowers are resilient. They can thrive in tough conditions, and once they bloom, they'll transform this place. They'll add color and life. They'll make this empty space feel like a part of our garden—a part of our home."

The boys nodded, understanding dawning on their faces. "And they'll attract bees, butterflies, and birds," Ash added, "They'll help the environment, but most of all, they'll beautify the area. Imagine looking out from the garden and seeing waves of color where there was once nothing but dirt. It'll be a reminder that even the simplest things can create something beautiful."

Greg looked out at the dirt hills. The place reminded him too much of the rot and fight that had taken place. He still remembered the smells of the place and from the look of things Brad did as well. The undead would surely return. He considered for a moment why they should even do this in the first place. In the days before the attack these hills were covered in short grass. Leaving them would result in their slow return. He looked back over to Ash.

In the soft light of the afternoon, Ash, Greg, and Brad stood at the edge of the wall, the expanse of untamed soil stretching out before them like a blank canvas. The air was filled with the scent of earth.

Ash held the wildflower seeds in her open palm, their varied shapes and colors holding the diversity of life waiting to spring forth from such tiny vessels. She looked at Greg and Brad, her eyes reflecting a mix of determination and hope. "Let's start here," she said, gesturing to the edge of the wall. "We'll work our way outwards, spreading the seeds as we go."

The boys nodded, and together, they began their work. Ash showed them how to scatter the seeds, a gentle toss with a flick of the wrist, so they spread evenly across the soil. The task was simple, yet there was something profoundly satisfying about it. Each seed they sowed was a potential burst of color, a future contributor to the beauty and biodiversity of their environment.

Greg, who had been quiet for most of the task, finally spoke up. "Do you think they'll all grow?" he asked, looking down at the seeds that now dotted the landscape.

Ash paused, considering his question. "Not all," she admitted. "But many will. And those that do will make all the difference. It's like us," she continued, her voice soft but clear. "Not every effort we make leads to success, but it's the trying that counts. Each success adds beauty to our lives, just like each flower will add beauty to this garden. The rain in the next few days should help them flourish."

They each grabbed handfuls of the seeds. The small pieces were thrown out around them and then stamped into the ground. They made sure to spread out as they worked and covered a large area.

“Should we just water them today?” asked Brad.

“I think we should let nature take care of them herself. There is no need for extra work and these flowers need the strength to stand on their own.”

After only a few minutes they scattered all the seeds Ash had available. More would need to be collected and scattered over the space they had remaining. Greg found the process relaxing. It was certainly less taxing than his previous outing beyond the wall. The actions required some thinking on where to move next but wasn’t difficult. As their time ended he started to hope that all of the wildflowers would weather future storms of battle that might pass them by.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the newly seeded ground, Ash, Greg, and Brad took a moment to look back at their day's work. The vast expanse of soil now speckled with the promise of future blooms felt like a testament to their efforts and a hopeful gesture towards a brighter, more colorful future. The air was cooler now, a gentle breeze whispering through the trees, carrying with it the scent of earth and the faintest hint of the coming night.

"Looks like we've done what we could for today," Ash said, her voice tinged with satisfaction. She wiped her hands on her pants, leaving behind traces of soil. "Thanks, you two. It wouldn't have been possible without your help."

Greg shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "It was actually kind of fun," he admitted. "Different from what I'm used to, but... good different."

Brad nodded. “I do wish I could finish my game.”

“Another time buddy. And Ash, good luck on the rest of the field. I do hope it looks nice in the end.”