She stirred awake, pushing herself up from the little straw bed that served as her nest. A quiet stretch loosened her limbs as she adjusted to the soft morning pressure. Most of the other plants preferred resting inside Crazy Dave’s living room or scattered across the Zen Garden, but she always chose her favorite spot by the small window. From there, the night sky kept her company, and on calm evenings she would lie awake counting stars until sleep claimed her.

This morning was peaceful—no battles to prepare for, no urgent calls to arms. She hopped lightly from her bed, savoring the first sip of her daily sun juice, its warmth spreading through her veins. The garden was unusually still, only a handful of plants awake and moving about. With no war today, the air felt lighter, almost serene, as if the entire world was taking a much-needed breath.