Why would you mate a mortal? Vervain asked from the little hammock of milkweed-down she had woven for herself.

Why indeed? He was different. He did not sit with the others drinking hobbit-nectar, shouting songs and tossing pony-shoes about. He wandered in the wild, wondering. What turned an ugly grub into a many-colored flower-kisser, or what made a maidenhair fern look silver when one dipped it in the stream. Climbing trees to look into nests. Wondering what made things fit together, becoming more and more. He was beautiful.

Because I am the piece that fits against him, Petal said smiling.