the rise of the dandelions

The sun glared down from a clear sky onto a grassy knoll at high noon, on a hot mid-summer’s day. Aster, transient Empress Taraxacum Dandeliona, surveyed her vast weed army spread out before her. Already, white seeds sprouted amongst her bright yellow petals, indicating the completion of her life-cycle drew near. Soon, her seed distribution would begin and with it her reign pass on.
“Weed Army, hear this!” she declared, “with the Russian Vine largely decimated little stands in our way. We take this land as our land, for generations to come.”
In response, a cloud of seed released into the air and flew in formation over the Empress’ head.
“Good luck patriots!” she called after them, “God’s speed!”
With the seed cloud passed from sight, her attention returned to the assembled troops. “Take heed of this,” the Empress said, adopting a cautionary tone, “one garden enclave up ahead is proving tricky to overcome. The Humarnus living at this address, has taken to tearing the heads off our soldiers, before they have reached full maturity.”
Furthermore, he has painstakingly applied a nocuous liquid, condemning many of our comrades to a slow and painful death.”
“How will we rest control of his land, Empress?” several soldiers cried out in synchronisation.
“Kill! Kill! Kill!” went up a chant, building to a feverous level. The Empress waited patiently, before addressing her minions.
“Guile is our most effective weapon, guile and tenacity – both of which we hold in large measures. Cooperation with our allies, the Buttercups and Daisies, has seen established a reliable chain of communication. It appears the Humarnus likes our friends, who are allowed to settle sparsely across the lawn. The information gathered so far, indicates a weakness along the flanks of the garden. Our enemy fails to trim back the grasses up near the wall on one side and fence on the other, making these our best routes of access.
“From here, we shall move up and into the crevices of the unkempt crazy paving patio and launch our main offensive, flowing out across the entire lawn.” The Empress paused, she felt the heat of the sun on her barnet, yellow turning to white, petal by petal.
“The time is near, those of you who are ready keep your seed dry and light, await your Empress, as I will lead you from the front. When the next gust of wind sweeps across, be ready to release upon my command.”
The Dandelion army shimmered in anticipation as an initial current of a cool breeze swept amongst their stems.
“We do this for the multitudes of generations who follow us and we shall not be forgotten!”
“Indeed!” roared the army.
A fully mature signaller cast it’s progeny into the prevailing wind. As seeds soared over the Empress, her last command sounded out.
“Ready? The game is afoot! All… together… now! …”

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