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Chapter Text
Amy wouldn’t call herself a Green Thumb. That title belonged to Sticks, rightfully so with the amount of shrubbery surrounding the badger’s home. Amy, as much as she hated to admit, couldn’t keep a cactus alive if she tried. However, something drew her to the beauty of the Winter Camellia in Stick’s botany books. The evergreen plant with its layered, pink petals cascading in perfect symmetry caught her eye as soon as she pulled up the page. The delicacy, the strength to thrive in bitter conditions as snow and frost mantle the leaves. It made Amy believe it was a better rose. And, she wanted it.
Sticks laughed at Amy when the hedgehog admitted that she wanted the flower. She wiped tears from her eyes as she claimed that the Camellia is rare on the island-- even doubting that she’d find it in its blooming season: winter. Amy’s face grew red at Stick’s doubt in her, and they took up a dare with stubbornness. If Amy couldn’t find a single Winter Camellia before spring, she’ll help Stick’s with her garden and any conspiracy plans, and vise-versa.
The hedgehog immediately went to pack, seeing that it was already December 5th. By the time she finished and was about to leave the house, she opened the door to be greeted by the rest of Team Sonic.
“Oh, hey, guys.” Amy smiled as if it was any other day.
However, the rest of the team seemed disgruntled-- save for Sticks who seemed smug.
“Amy, you can’t just leave! What if you get hurt?” Tails spoke the group’s entire sentiment.
Sonic nodded, crossing his arms, “Yeah, Ames, you can’t survive out there!”
Knuckles copied Sonic’s crossed arms, “It’s gonna snow too!”
Amy rolled her eyes. “Knuckles, there’s not a cloud in the sky.”
“Well- well, you never know?”
“Knux,” Sonic raised an eyebrow at the Echidna, “We live on an island. A sunny one at that.”
Tails frowned, “I don’t know, Sonic, the weather’s been getting colder every year…”
Sticks narrowed her eyes, “Isn’t global warming supposed to do the opposite? Honestly, it might just be another government lie meant to keep us in line.”
Tails stares at her, unamused. “Well, yeah, but-“
“Can we please focus!” Amy growled, tired at how off-topic her friends could get. Amy pulled her bag straps tighter and grabbed her hammer at the front of the door, “I’m finding that Winter Camellia, and no one is stopping me.” She tried to walk right past the group, but Sonic grabbed her arm.
“Ames.”
The pink hedgehog stopped in her tracks. Her eyes widened at the sudden touch, and she could feel the heat in her face. She turned her head to see Sonic’s face, knitted brows, and an uncharacteristically soft smile on his muzzle. She could feel her knees melt like snow.
“Ames,” He repeated. “At least let one of us go with you. In fact, I’d be happy to tag along.”
Amy’s gaze softened at the gesture as a large smile took her face. Oh, that’s actually kinda sweet.
“You need someone to watch out for you. In case you can’t protect yourself.”
Amy frowned, eyebrows dropping in anger and… and disappointment. The sting of tears try to flood in her eyes at the comment and throat swelling as she removed his hand off her arm with a forceful shrug. “No. I’m going.” She asserted, swinging her hammer to rest on her shoulder-- the stinging now dying, but she found it hard to swallow. “Try- try and stop me, and I’ll hammer you into the ground.”
She didn’t bother to turn to see Sonic’s confused, hurt expression. She continued to walk away, hammer feeling 10 times heavier.
Amy trekked the canyons a few miles away from the village. Every now and then she stops to see if the team was following her- her paranoia finally dying out once she was far enough. The last conversation with Team Sonic played like a record in her mind. Maybe she was a little harsh…
Amy shook the thought off. No, they needed to understand that she can do this: she can survive the wilderness and find the flower before spring. The hedgehog pressed on through the chilly canyon- her eyes peeled for the flower. Although the Winter Camellia was nowhere in sight, she found other flowers blooming in reds, pinks, and blues. Taking her extra glass jars and pots, she places each one she finds into the pot-jars and draws each one in her journal: homemade, leather bound with recycled paper that Sticks made for her birthday.
She continues walking until a small snowflake lands on her nose. Looking up, Amy sees gray clouds covering the sky like sea foam. White bundles of snow begin to fall. Her eyes widened at the sudden beauty. Guess she was wrong about it not snowing.
“It’s beautiful.” She comments before her face turns into a hardened expression. “But, it’s not as beautiful as the Winter Camellia.”
She continues to press on through the canyon. The cold wind pricks her skin, but she ignores it as the snow piles around her. It doesn’t take long for the snow flurries to turn into a storm. Amy’s shivering becomes worse.
“Okay, maybe Knuckles was right… for once.”
Despite her shivering, she continues on with the vision of the flower now out of her mind. Now, her eyes only search for shelter from the flurries. Through the white haze of snow, Amy spots a shadow in the mountain. Her eyes light up at the sight of the cave. Her footsteps feel like lead and her bag and hammer like boulders in her drowsy, freezing state. Without the sun’s guide, it felt like hours by the time she reached the entrance.
As soon as her boots reached dirt instead of snow, she flings herself to the nearest wall-- sliding to the ground in a fetal position. Taking her bag off, she holds it tight to her chest, teeth chattering and fatigue invading her thoughts and eyes. Sonic was right. What was she thinking? She’s not like him or Knuckles. If either of them were here, they’d know how to survive this. Nature was never her strong suit. Her tears freeze on her fur. She looks into the darkness of the cave and sniffs.
If he was here, at least she’d have company… She imagines him making a joke-- probably at her expense, but Amy’s too tired to think of it. She just wants to laugh, roll her eyes, push him, just do something. Something other than stare at the cold, pitch black surrounding her as her brain drifts off into her own pitch black. Within her last moments of consciousness, the sounds of heavy footsteps wisps in her ears, and she can’t help but grin sleepily at the sound.