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I had moved out of the kitchen and resumed my walk down the hallway. I could hear a faint buzzing sound somewhere in the distance not far away from where I was, so I decided to follow it. Maybe that's where my answers were.
The temperature had been comfortable enough throughout my walk not to regret having left my jacket on the bridge. Nevertheless, the further I walked, the warmer it became, but I wasn't sure why. It wasn't unbearable, barely noticeable, but I did. I assumed that meant the farm would sooner rather than later come up to view.
The garden.
I felt weirdly excited about it. Maybe because Sam had mentioned it in one of her videos. Maybe because I thought that'd get me closer to her. Maybe because I hoped she'd be there as I remembered her.
That triggered a memory of Sam back in Arkadia after we fought the people of the Mountain.
I had found her walking with Monty around the garden we had set up inside our walls. She hadn't seen me and I hadn't wanted to bother her, seeing the smile on her face as she walked down the paths with Monty, pointing at things, looking at him as he took notes, deeply engrossed in a conversation of their own.
I had known Sam for around six or seven months back then, and I had seen her and heard her always say that she wasn't as useful to the camp as I was, as Raven or Monty were. But it was in moments like those that I knew she was wrong.
Yes, she was useful to the camp because she could fight and was the stubbornest person we had ever met, but there was so much more to Sam than just her rage. And it had always hurt me so much she couldn't see it.
She didn't see the way people looked up to her, the way she inspired even some of the guards she disliked so much. I had heard little kids speak about wanting to be like her when they grew up. I had heard parents call her a phoenix and tell stories to their youngest children about her.
But even all of that, it didn't speak about how smart Sam was, how resourceful she could be even in the face of despair.
I had seen the things Raven had built solely on a what-if from Sam. I had watched Monty get stuck planning something and get out of his root just by running things through Sam.
And yet Sam had always ignored most of it, assuming those were things anyone could do. Things everyone did.
FLASHBACK
Monty and Sam had been walking back to the garden's exit, closer to where I stood, still unnoticed. She had paused her walk, dropped to her knees, and collected something from the ground in front of her. I heard Monty call her out, saying whatever she had in her hands could've stayed in the ground for a couple more days.
