She pulled the Golden Sansam from its rubbery tethers in earth. The arid, wispy topsoil belied the plants’ tenacity to find water. When she found a patch, no matter the near danger or threat, she harvested it. It reminded her of her mother, who had used the tender shoots in fresh greens, cool and crisp. The story of lost parents was too common now. She was not alone in her experience, but alone by choice in path. But the rogue girl, soft as soot, kept rooted to her comrades: her loyalty to the guild was true: abandonment, not an option.