“Skunk flies,” June muttered to herself “Anyone who claims they aren’t harmful should come out here and try gathering swamp beets from their nest and then tell me they just smell bad.”

1. Her prize secured, June placed the swamp beets into her bag and began the hike back home. She would have to stop by Eddie’s garden on the way back in order to gather the last of the ingredients that she needed. As June neared the garden, a sudden acrid smell stopped her in her tracks. Something wasn’t right. She climbed the nearest maple for a better look. Between the treetops, June immediately saw the choking green smoke rising into the sky. Her eyes widened. “Pirates.”

2. As another swamp fly descended upon her, only to meet it’s demise with a satisfying SPLAT, June reasoned she had to make her way to the garden. From there she could climb the sycamore tree and deal with their nest once and for all

3. As June climbed over the rocky embankment of the creek bed, her thoughts began to wander. “I hope the garden can grow these beets. The shop could really use something new to sell. Mother’s age certainly hasn’t….” Suddenly June stopped and took a deep breath in. Her heart skipped a beat. The smell of arid smoke hung in the air.

4. June sighed, picked up the remaining beets, and headed back towards her garden.
   
   June’s so-called garden had become famous throughout the small country of Globb for dividing philosophers into two competing schools that had frequent arguments about whether it actually was a garden at all. Those supporting its garden status pointed to the fact that everyone called it a garden. Others insisted that it simply didn’t meet any reasonable definition of a garden, claiming that anything planted in its slimy mud would be so offended that it’d just uproot itself, climb over the old fence, and flee outright.

5. Looping the pan over her gear, she stooped to grab the mangy swamp beets at her feet. A ripple broke the swampy ooze. Slowly, a pudgy beaver climbed up, shuddering sending water in a spray.
   
   “Hey Clyde”, cocking her head towards the beaver.
   “Hi June”, replied the beaver settling on its haunches.
   
   His black eyes eyed the beets.
   “Those are good lookin’ swamp beets you have.”
   
   June smiled tossing one over.
   
   “One day Clyde, I’ll figure out how I ended up sharing a swamp beet with a sentient beaver in an infernal swamp.  It ain’t exactly the Garden of Eden.”