ᵂᴱᴸᶜᴼᴹᴱ ᵀᴼ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴹᵁˢᴱᵁᴹ ᴼᶠ ᴹᵞ ᴹᴵᴺᴰ·.°·.

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Papa Bear told Graeme and Josh to clear all the unwanted plants 
from a long patch of land, leaving only two trees and a row of tiger lilies. 
They did as they were told, and they enjoyed the work, laughing and talking 
as they tore away the countless weeds. As they were weeding they noticed 
a reddish liquid seeping from the stalks of the plants they tore from the ground.
It covered their hands. Besides the two trees and the row of tiger lilies, all that 
remained of the patch was torn and root-ridden dirt, scattered and crushed corpses 
of weeds. They stepped back to look upon the product of their hard day
of work. They were horrified by the nakedness of the dirt, the ground where
wild foliage had once bloomed in sweet and warm greenness. Deep regret shadowed their faces. Later that night, guilt ridden, Graeme told Papa Bear. 
He said: That land we weeded today used to be full of life, overflowing. Now it is dead, a patch of cold dirt. 
Not for long, said Papa Bear.

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