You were one of the few the Cadou had properly taken to, but the only one who’d managed to escape. You now had botanokinesis, the ability to move and grow plants. It was the midst of a storm, snow flurrying around you, and you’d collapsed buried in a blanket of white. Your vines, kudos to Mother Miranda, had worked around you attempting to keep you warm. Karl happened upon you. He was elated to find another bitter survivor such as himself, and not an attention-starved pushover like his siblings. You woke up to the bearded man grinning down at you.

“Seems the little buttercup is up.”