Elara
The third tray was already cold.
Elara touched the soil with two fingers, then checked the leaves nearest the glass. Their edges had curled inward. Not dead. Not healthy enough to survive another careless night either.
She moved the tray away from the crack and put her coat over the gap in the frame.
It was a poor repair. It was also the only one immediately available.
The lower growing room held the winter plants she had carried through the previous cold spell. Her project concerned keeping existing roots alive with limited warmth. Starting again with new cuttings would give her prettier trays and ruin the comparison.
She wanted these plants to live.
The third tray had looked almost as good as the first at yesterday's check. Now she could see the difference without consulting the notebook. She turned it toward the light and counted the curled leaves again, careful not to press them flat with her fingers.
