Foxglove could feel the shift not only in the seasons and the world, but within the group. He needed to be more present, although he'd spent the majority of his time getting the garden space more defined. Fox was still stewing over the situation between Bee being gone again, and now River as well. He wasn't sure how to address any of it, finding himself longing again for the closeness of family. His family he hoped were thriving and enjoying their lives. Maybe he had nieces and nephews, hell - he wouldn't even have known if he had new siblings. He hoped his mothers were happy still and that the missing of him hadn't hurt them too much.

It seemed that although he had the best of intentions, it was unfair that he had been the cause of many being's hurts. There were only a few ways that he felt he could contribute in a positive manner, and that was by doing what he could around Avon. The meadow was no Glade, but, it had potential. It was during one of his little surveys of the land trying to find a decent place that he'd call his own to bed down in that instead he found a grove of flowers of every sort, including a surprisingly strong number of his own namesake flower's. He frowned - immediatelly thinking of the girls. They were old enough they'd listen if he instructed them to stay away, but what if they confused the safer flowers for the dangerous ones? Without hesitation he immediately called for the Matriarch, knowing that Fable would appreciate the swift response from the Apotheca to keep them all safe.

It seemed so unfair to have to have to tear them up, but, the safety of Avon overall was more important to him.