• The clay took flawless form under the careful guidance of Abbott’s experienced hands. Soon it would be shaped into the body of a young girl which would be the foundation for the daughter that the old sage had always wanted but never had the opportunity to sire. He had decided he would name her Salvia for his favorite plant which grew in abundance outside of his cabin in the foothills of Greenheart. With his home crowded with books, paintings, scrolls, parchments and statues (most of his own creation), he had little room to work with yet was determined to make this his greatest work. But making her body would only be the start of it. Raising her would be a project that would last him to his deathbed. He would give to her all his love, knowledge and wisdom and more if he could. And she would be beautiful besides. Her skin would be the color of the clay from which she was made with mud flecked across her cheeks for freckles. Her hair was to be made from a fox’s tail and she would be taught to wash it so it kept its soft and glossy quality. For eyes, Abbott had picked two dark, smooth pebbles that shone and sparkled in the faintest light. Oh, yes, she would be lovely. And smart as well! Salvia’s brain had been crafted with the finest soil to keep her thoughts grounded and was large so she would be very curious. The heart of a doe, the finishing touch, assured the old man that his new daughter would be light-footed and carefree but cautious to the evils of the world.

    As the clay figure hardened by the fire, the sage made clothes. Some were for dress because he planned to take her into town on those rare occasions when he visited. But most of her clothing was made for comfort. The two would spend many evenings by the fire, Abbott decided, reading and researching and expanding their minds. Together they would make great works of art that she would one day pass onto her own children. Abbott laughed at himself for thinking so far ahead. She had yet to even learn to speak and it would be quite a while after that before she grew interested in a family of her own.

    When the clothes were made and the body prepared, the sage dressed his creation and carried her outside. He set her onto a bed of the purple flowers from which she took her name and knelt beside her. He closed his eyes in prayer and reached out to the Spirit with his bare soul. “So busy have I been finding the answers to man’s questions,” he prayed “that I have never taken time to find a wife.” A wind blew over the grass and mint, caressing the sage’s wizened shoulders as it passed. The Spirit was with him. “Grant my latest creation a life, so that I may know the joys of a father. So I may never again be lonesome. So my life’s research will not die with me. But most of all, grant my Salvia a life so that she may live and know the joys of it.”

    The sun radiated its gentle warmth over Abbott. Birds sang in delight and the wind carried their tiny voices far. Blue mountains with white peaks reached above the horizon, framing the grass that was all too healthy and green. The world stood still in that perfect moment and the only grief Abbott knew was that it would not last forever. This, he knew, was the Spirit’s way of acknowledging his prayer and there was no doubt that it would be answered. The world began to spin once more but the sage did not take notice; a yawn had captured his attention. Salvia’s eyes drifted open and she stretched as though awakening from a nap. The clay had turned to flesh and the fur and pebbles were now hair and eyes. She observed the world around her with the look of one who sought understanding and enlightenment and the smile of a girl with an innocent heart and the intention to play. Abbott was stunned with the realization that he had just created a perfect entity. He knew that he would never love anything more than he loved this creature yet could not find any word in his vast vocabulary to tell her so. But when she turned to face him, her eyes more enchanting than the most potent magic spell, he knew she understood. “Good morning, Father,” were Salvia’s first words.