This is a "Tasting," a short-short story inspired by a tea I made at my tea company. This particular one is for the "Minthe's Tears," a peppermint honeybush herbal. I suggest ordering a little bag of the tea to drink while reading the story, but I'm certainly not biased in this matter.

She tended her garden well, as she always did. This was her forest, her plants, her garden, her trees. It surrounded the tree she called home, the tree her soul was linked with, the place she could never leave, and could never imagine wanting to.

Minthe lead a simple life, tending her garden, growing luscious crops for travelers and animals alike, never needing sustenance beyond her tree for herself. She loved to see the adventurers leave happy, munching gleefully on a bowl of her raspberries, packs full of her incredible, full-bodied corn, the deer standing on their hind legs to reach her juicy, succulent apples. Nothing made her happier than seeing creatures of life partaking in the fruits of her labors.

Everything changed when she got a visitor from a bizarre source. A man came to her in fine black robes, pale of skin and a look of disgruntlement about him. All the same, she approached the weary traveller and offered her fruits. He scared her, not because she was worried about what he would do to her, but more that she could almost feel the things he’d done, and few were good.

He took an apple, and thanked her, taking a bite. The stranger smiled and took a seat on a rock nearby, and she joined, opting to sit on the ground cross-legged.

“So you’re a dryad, then.”

“Yes!”

“So you can never leave your tree?”

“Nor would I want to! It gives me life, protection, and a place to call home. I’d much rather tend my garden here and make the lives of wanderers easier than wander myself. Why, I don’t know what I’d do with myself in the big wide world.”

“You never wonder about the sights of the world? You don’t wish to see the monuments of man, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, the Colossus of Rhodes, the Pyramids of Giza, monuments to the gods that man has constructed?”

“I had an artist come by once. She painted me while he partook of my berries. She showed me paintings she had done of the hanging gardens and of the colossus. Both were unbelievable and striking, but I was happy to just see their representations. I don’t need to travel to see them with my own eyes, simply to hear others’ tales make them all the more grand.”

“You are a beautiful thing, Minthe.”

“Thank you, sir, but I pale in beauty compared to the forest I belong to.”

“The whole forest is yours?”

“Absolutely not. I am tied to a single tree of the forest, and by no means the biggest or most important. I am just another part of this forest like any of the deer, squirrels, or insects.”

“You’re so humble, and so selfless. No living woman could compare to your generosity.”

“Humans are troubled creatures, and have many worries. This is part of why I don’t travel, stranger. I’d rather listen to their woes and help to assuage them than take in any myself. The wildlife of my forest hardly provides any drama.”

“Tell me, would you share a bed with me tonight? The sky grows dark, and I would love a warm place to stay.”

“Of course, Stranger, you are welcome in my bed.”

They spent the night and shared great earthly pleasures, leaving him to venture forth a happier man than the one he came as. She tended the garden the next day with a bigger smile on her face than normal, satisfied that he left so content, and still content herself with the night before.

This resulted in her garden flourishing well beyond what she had intended, as the plants felt her rapture and partook in it, sharing in her glee and blossoming brighter than before. This made her all the happier. Days passed, and wanderers came and went, but none brightened her day more than the mysterious stranger that passed. This did not result in her treating any wanderers any worse, but she still missed the company of the strange man.

Until the day that a woman came to her garden that radiated anger like she had never seen. This woman was furious, and Minthe could tell immediately.

“What brings you to my garden, my lady?”

“You, dear Minthe. We have business, you and I.”

“And what would that be?” She cocked her head, hoping this wouldn’t end in violence.

“You met my husband many days ago, and shared a bed with him.”

“I do apologize, my lady, but I had no intention of stealing him from your promise. He was looking for a warm place to stay, and we shared pleasure. I have no ill intentions towards you.”

“My husband has a wandering eye, little dryad, and it falls on many women. You are not the first, but I do hope you will be the last. Still,” she sighed, clenching her fists, “a lesson must be taught.”

“I’m sorry, my lady, but I have no intention to take your husband from you.”

“Not a lesson for you, little one, but for my husband and all who would claim him.”

She rose a hand and it glowed a fierce color. Vines wrapped up from the ground and enveloped Minthe, crushing her muscles and bringing her into the dirt.

“Do you know who the man you slept with was, Minthe?”

Minthe struggled, but her chest was collapsed. She couldn’t hope to talk, let alone breathe.

“My husband is the lord of Hell, the god of death. Hades himself. I am Persephone, mistress of the dark and wife to death himself. I do not condemn you to death, wildling, for that would teach no one. I instead condemn you to a life of a plant, small and unassuming, made to be trodden upon and crushed under the boots of men, walked over by humans like you have all your life. You will spread, covering your beloved garden like a weed, sapping strength from other plants and ending the cycle of them with a greed beyond your control. Let this serve as a lesson to any who would take my husband into their beds.”

Her head stayed above ground just long enough for the woman to walk away and out of view. The dirt took her, and she lost all sensation. She could feel her leaves growing and blooming, her roots spreading and taking over the garden, and killing the other plants, entangling their roots to get more water. She hated it, and wanted to stop, but couldn’t help herself.

Adventurers trod on her leaves, crushing her limbs under their boots wantonly, and she cried to herself, deep in her soul. But after time had passed, her mood brightened as she refused to be defeated by a jealous wife. She let her leaves bloom with positive energy, growing higher than before. She soaked in the sun and shined as brightly as she could, letting her leaves grow wide and tall. The forest took her, and she could feel the tree spirits accept her.

The passing men soon found that the leaves of the plant was was Minthe could be harvested, which Minthe took no umbrage to, sharing herself willingly with the world. The leaves held onto her positive energy and surged with sweet, incredible flavor. Her name grew anglicized as her seeds spread from continent to continent, now known today as Mint. 

Her spirit lives on to this day in plants the world over, spreading her positivity and brightness to anyone who would have her. She grows in every country, every land mass, and looks to the marvels of civilization, hoping that the god of death notices, and is glad she finally travelled.