(short story)

High, in black, as if made of silk sky, the stars burned brightly, illuminating the way. A man was walking in the desert. His red cloak stood out as a bright spot against the background of dark sand hills. Green hair occasionally poked out from under the hood.

“Finally, I’ve been chasing you for ten years, beautiful”, the cloaked figure bent over the incredible wonder of the desert. A second and a terrifying howl swept across the sandy expanse, a strong wind rose, but it was over as quickly as it had begun…

In the morning, almost all the inhabitants of the town gathered in the tavern. The city buzzed like a disturbed beehive.

“Did you hear it?”

“Of course, only a deaf person would not wake up from angry spirits.”

“What do you think happened?”

“Someone found it!”

“What?”

“A fern flower, what else?”

“Are you laughing? It’s just a legend. What fern, even with a flower, in our desert?”

“Every legend always has a grain of truth! I tell you, they plucked the flower-soul of the desert, that’s why the spirits were angry!”

“Well, if so, then this abnormal person is definitely already dead. He sacrificed himself for the sake of the legend. Spirits do not forgive sacrilege.”

The residents discussed the night’s event for a long time, and only one man sat and quietly drank kamra. The world-renowned owner of the most amazing tea shop had just made a deal with a local owner to sell a rare purple tea and was wondering where to go next. Here all business was completed.

Finishing his drink, he stood up, tied his green hair in a ponytail so that his red eyes could see the details, and putting on a red cloak, left the tavern. There were new worlds ahead, which still had a lot of curiosities worth adding to his herbal collection.