It starts with a gentle misunderstanding:
what if Medusa didn’t mean to start a garden?

She stands in a quiet yard, surrounded by stone children frozen mid-play, looking mildly confused—like she doesn’t remember planting any of them.

Then there’s Amy. Calm, smiling, watering them like this is completely normal. To her, they’re not statues—they’re something to care for.

Medusa didn’t plan this.
Amy decided she did.

The humor sits in that contrast: a legendary monster unsure what’s happening, and a child confidently tending her garden.

Everything is peaceful.
Everything is polite.
And Medusa is wondering how it got here so fast.