Skye waited patiently as Mars went to get his guitar. The young man was respectful and nice, and she valued him as a member, even though she didn't know him that well. She wondered how long Orin had known him - probably for a while, since they evidently came from the same pack. She wondered if they'd grown up together, and if Niro had known him as well, since Niro was Orin's brother. Mars had a cool head and a calm voice, and he had many talents to boot. She knew that he would be a reliable member if anything went awry, and was glad that he agreed to accompany her to the garden. She wondered if his many talents encompassed the arts of tending to gardens.
"I'm doing good, thanks," she said to the man as he came back. "Yourself?" She then began to lead the way to the garden. Mars's house was a little ways away from the garden, so she cut through the center of the town and started walking. The day was cool and crisp on Skye's thick fur, and the asphalt provided a luxurious warmth on her paw pads. She lead the way until they passed by her own house and finally ended up at the garden. She looked down proudly at her sprouts.
Many were ripe and green despite the cold winter months - the combination of sprinkling water on them to give them warmth and putting peels in the ground helped keep them nice and alive. Some were yellowing, but still had a healthy look. A few were dead, but in Skye's eyes, that was a little failure - small potatoes. She was just glad her mother's advice was working. She heard Mars ask what kind of plants she grew there, and she turned her proud gaze to the man.
"Well, over here," she said, pointing to a close cluster of plants that had a wooden spike embedded in the ground in front of them that read 'blue berries', "are the blue berries." She understood that the writing was small and sort of illegible, since Skye hadn't had much room on the spike and had just put them there to differentiate the different sprouts. She pointed to another cluster. "Those are the red berries - they're really good I had some before - and those," she said, gesturing to another clump, "are some flowers I thought were pretty and took some. There are others, but I'm not sure what they'll grow into - it's sort of a variety here. I hope they survive the winter." Skye didn't know what she would do if her precious plants were destroyed in a storm of sorts. She would surely be devastated - she worked so hard on these plants, put so much effort into them. She wondered, much too late, if she should have put them in a sort of greenhouse instead. That would have protected them from storms, mostly.
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