The rose continued to sit undisturbed in the meadow for several centuries.<br/><br/>As years passed the meadow began to fade more and more, becoming swallowed by the forest as the land changed. Several wars had taken place in the meadow, the rose eluding destruction, and scars of these wars were everywhere. A village had even been built.  Everyday people from the village would gather around, curious as to why the rose had not withered and died, and treat the site of the rose as a place of worship. The surrounding area might have been swallowed by the forest but there was a single opening in the trees where the sun shone down upon it. Some say the light was almost like some sort of protection. That would be believable, as it really did seem like something was preventing the rose from becoming lost in the overgrowth of weeds and other foliage. But not everyone was aware the rose was special to the village.<br/><br/>One day while he was roaming around the forest a brown rat named Montrell had discovered the rose. Now, we are not talking about the average-sized rat here, as he is in no way small, but a rat that was pretty big. He was about the size of a large dog though he probably weighed more, he wasnâ€™t exactly light. Having no prior knowledge of it, had decided to take the rose for himself when he had seen it. Out of everything he had seen in this forest, this simple rose had stuck out to him. It seemed to be beginning for him to take it home with him. Compared to everything else in this dismal place it really was out of place. He liked the look of it; he was a rat after all, his mind was often simple. Despite his intelligence he was still an animal. There was no way he could just leave it here.<br/><br/>After he took the rose by the stem gingerly, in his mouth, careful not to prick himself on the thorns, he retreated back into the forest. He lived in the deepest part of the forest, closer to the swamps where they would often send people who have been exiled. A lot of horrible things lived in the swamp. It was perfect for a creature like him, who was probably something that should not even exist. After living there as long as he has, he has gotten use to it. He was rarely bothered by the other creatures anyway so he saw no reason to worry about them too much. It was the humans that concerned him, and he made sure to stay as far away from them as he could. Once they have been claimed by the swamp there was no way they could ever return to their previous lives.<br/><br/>His place of residence, if you wanted to call it that, was an old house. It was fixed up pretty nice and kept neat and tidy which was unusual for a rat. He didnâ€™t like to live in filth, even if he did have quite a lot of stuff; sometimes he couldnâ€™t help but hoard things.<br/><br/>Pushing aside some things on a table, Montrell set up a place to put the rose. There was a window where the moon shone its light inside the house which was the only area that let light of any kind. It was similar to the place he had found the rose originally, it was the perfect place. When he went to take the rose out of his mouth he had priced himself on one of the thorns. Disgruntled, he left the rose on the table and went to go search for something to patch the wound with.