Anneli suddenly grabbed Castor by the wrist and pulled him to shrub at the base of an old dying tree. “Here is it,” said Anneli. “Here what is?” asked Castor. “The rose plant, the rose plant.” Castor looked down at the humble looking shrub. It was about two feet tall with waxy leaves and thorny stems and small unassuming white buds.
“Are you sure?” asked Castor, still not quite convinced.
“Yes, absolutely,” replied Anneli crouching by the shrub and staring at its thorns. “It is still like this because it is only just spring. When it gets warmed its will bloom properly.”
Castor sighed, maybe it is just what wild roses are like he thought, trying to convince himself the past few days of travel were for something, “alright, but we have reached our second problem.”
“What is the second problem?”
“How are we going to take this with us? I need to take it back to my country and that will take a couple weeks at least.”
“You can put it into one of those things.” Anneli cupped his hands to described the mysterious item that he had seen people use before.
“A pot!” exclaimed Castor, “ah! I am so stupid, I should have prepared more.” Castor laughed in frustration and Anneli patiently watched him. Castor unpacked his bag to find some miscellaneous items to use instead. A piece of thick leather that had previously been used to wrap food and other important items was laid on the ground. Using his blunt but ornamental knife, Castor cut the a branch with small white buds. Anneli felt sorry for the plant which cried in pain as the branch was roughly cut. The branch will grow back, it will be alight thought Anneli to himself. He helped Castor dig up some soil that was looser by the dying tree and placed on the piece of leather. One end of the cut branch was placed in the soil and the leather was wrapped around it like a make-shift bag.
“Hopefully it will survive,” said Castor but Anneli doubted it would survive the next few days.