“No,” Cerené insisted. “My ashes are special. They are cold ‘soda ashes’ or ‘sodium carbonate.’”

“How do you know stuff like that?”

Cerené discarded the question. “These special ashes can only be obtained from drying and burning certain plants like Saltwort and Glasswort, but we don’t have those here,” she said then darted down the hill like a maniac, toward the tower.

“Wait!” Shew said and followed her. “Where are you going?”

“To get the plant that makes ashes from the tower of Rudaba,” Cerené yelled. “It’s called Rapunzel,” she said and disappeared in the dark.

Shew walked cautiously, calling for her, afraid she’d trip. The earth was muddy underneath her. The tower itself was creepy and dark, shooting aimlessly into the night sky like someone’s mistake.

“Shhh,” Cerené appeared out of nowhere, patting Shew and urging her to kneel. “Here it is. The Rapunzel plant,” she pointed at an orange plant that looked like a sunflower among many of its kind, scattered in an uneven circle around the tower. The plants swung slowly to a slight breeze.  They also looked as if they were alive. Their tiny petals acted as if they were arms.

“Why don’t we just get one?” Shew whispered.

“You will see why,” Cerené giggled. “This is no ordinary plant.”

The two girls waited until a frog hopped by happily in front of one of the Rapunzel plants—reminding Shew how Loki hated frogs. In a flash, one of the once-peaceful plants grew sharp teeth between its petals, snatched the poor frog from midair with its wavy arms and swallowed it.

The plant chewed on the frog and swallowed it down its green throat, as if it was a snake, all the way down to feed the belly of the earth. When other plants sneaked toward it to try to get a piece of the frog, it snarled at them. Once it finished its meal, it spat out the frog’s legs and plastered a merry sunflower smile on its face again.

Shew fidgeted a little, not only because of the Rapunzel plant, but also because of Cerené’s giggles.

“Is this the plant you want to burn down to ashes,” Shew wondered.

“There is no other way. Magic comes with a price, remember?” Cerené said. “Believe me, I love plants and animals, but this one is vicious. If we come near it, it will eat one of our toes. It has a thing for them.”

“So how are you planning to get one?”

“With this,” Cerené pulled out a golden coin from her  dirty dress.

“Where did you get a golden coin from?” Shew said.

“I stole it from the Queen of Sorrow,” she smiled, looking at the trophy in her hand. “I am sorry, but you said you wanted to do something, and this is all I do when I have time.”

“I don’t care about you stealing from my mother. And although I’m not comfortable with it, I wonder why a girl like you wouldn’t buy herself something with that large amount of money?”

“Buy?” Cerené looked confused as if someone had hit her with a rock. “I never thought about it. I only stole the coin to practice my magic.”

“You never thought of buying yourself a new dress, or a good meal?”

Cerené looked dazed. Shew was worried but she also sympathized with her. The poor girl had lived a life down low and got so used to it that when she had a golden coin in her hand she never thought of spending it wisely.

Maybe her passion for the Art was just much greater than all the money in the world. What if she bought herself a nice dress, how would she explain how she got one? She is a Slave Maiden. No one in this damned kingdom will let her shine. They like to see the way she is, ashen, lost, and miserable. In order for the riches to exist, the rags have to exist, too.

“I guess next time I will buy myself something to eat. Great idea,” Cerené patted Shew on the back. “But for now, I’m going to use it to get that plant and practice my magic.”

“Alright,” Shew sighed. “How is this coin going to help?”

“It’s the plant’s weakness,” Cerené explained. “Myth has it that this plant was seeded by an evil sorcerer who craved gold more than anything in the world. The Rapunzel plant is poisonous, and is also cursed with an insane hunger for gold; the same hunger its creator had.

Only one girl, ironically named Rapunzel after the plant, has power over it.”

“Where could we find this girl?”

“I have no idea,” Cerené said. “She isn’t the solution to getting the Rapunzel plant though. This coin in my hand is how I’ll get it.”

 “Tell me about it,” Shew demanded.

“Once the plant sees a golden coin in my hand, it will want it so bad that it will rip its roots apart trying to get it,” Cerené explained.

 “Did you say rip its roots out?” Shew said. “Which means it will kill itself?”

“I told you it’s a crazy plant,” Cerené said. “You want to know what’s really crazy about it? If you plant it back to the earth after its dead, it grows back alive in an instance. Now let me do what I have to do,” Cerené stood up and ran toward the plant impulsively. She stretched her arm and showed the gold coin the someone would tempt a horse with a cube of sugar.

The Rapunzel plants went crazy, arching their bodies and stretching out their petal arms, wailing like creepy ghosts. The plant closest to Cerené was losing its mind.

“Give me that coin, you filthy ashen slave!” the plant wailed, almost ripping itself apart.

“Say please,” Cerené teased it, avoiding another one sneaking up behind her, trying to eat her toe, but failed. Thanks to Cerené’s unusual slippers.

“I won’t say please to you, daughter of Bianca!” the plant screamed.

“You nasty witch!” another plant screamed in high-pitched tones. “You always come here and take one of us! You make us kill ourselves.”

“I will rip your ashen heart apart,” a third plant said, stretching high enough to bite on Cerené’s knees. A couple of other plants bit parts of her dress off.

Cerené backed off; too far for the plant to reach her, “You’re horrible plants,” she talked to them. “You eat every living thing that passes next to you. What has that poor frog done to you?”

“If you think we’re horrible, you’re just as horrible,” the plant said as Shew tried to pull Cerené away from them. Talking plants weren’t that surprising in the Kingdom of Sorrow.  Weird was just about the norm.

Cerené pulled away from Shew’s grip and dared brush the coin against the plant’s arm then pulled it away immediately. The plant swallowed the trick and stretched out far enough to rip its roots from the soil.

Cerené picked up the dying plant—and several others. They were flopping like fish out of water before giving up.

Cerené she ran away, the other plants cursing her.

“Run away, daughter of Bianca!” the plants snarled.

“Burn! Burn! Burn!” the plants started spitting the food they’d eaten at Cerené and Shew; frog’s legs, chicken wings, and squirrel teeth.

Shew and Cerené ran back to the hill. Cerené acted as if she were just playing, waving her Rapunzel plant in the air with a wide victorious smile on her face, not paying attention to the cuts the plants made on her fingers.

“You’re hurt,” Shew said. “I think we should get back to the castle. I can mend your wounds,” she regretted not snarling with her fangs at the plants.

“I’ve been cut worse,” Cerené said nonchalantly.

“Did the plants cause the same cut on your cheek and neck?” Shew inquired, unable to hold her curiosity. Suddenly, it occurred to her that Cerené hid her scars intentionally behind the ashes. That was why she wouldn’t clean the ashes off her skin, because they’d show the wounds she’d preferred hiding.

Cerené’s eyes dimmed, betrayed by Shew’s question. She stared at her with moist eyes. All the happiness she’d just experience in getting the plants just withered away.

Shew knew the girl was about to burst into tears, but she couldn’t help but ask her.

“You’re horrible,” Cerené screamed at Shew. “You promised not to ask,” she threw the Rapunzel plant in Shew’s face and ran down the other side of the hill, deeper into the forest.