Meg - Grows Strawberry Plant

Below us, a dozen strixes burst forth from the mouth of the tunnel, shrieking in a chorus of pre-disembowelment fury.
“TRY THE FRAGGLE ROCK!” I yelled.
“Fragaria,” Meg corrected.
“WHATEVER!”
Rather than throwing her strawberry seeds into the void, Meg ripped open the packet and shook them out along the edge of the ramp with maddening slowness.
“Hurry.” I fumbled for my bow. “We’ve got maybe thirty seconds.”
“Hold on.” Meg tapped out the last of the seeds.
“Fifteen seconds!”
“Wait.” Meg tossed aside the packet. She placed her hands over the seeds like she was about to play the keyboard (which, by the way, she can’t do well, despite my efforts to teach her).
“Okay,” she said. “Go.”
Grover raised his pipes and began a frantic version of “Strawberry Fields Forever” in triple time. I forgot about my bow and grabbed my ukulele, joining him in the song. I didn’t know if it would help, but if I was going to get ripped apart, at least I wanted to go out playing the Beatles.
Just as the wave of strixes was about to hit, the seeds exploded like a battery of fireworks. Green streamers arced across the void, anchoring against the far wall and forming a row of vines that reminded me of the strings of a giant lute. The strixes could have easily flown through the gaps, but instead they went crazy, veering to avoid the plants and colliding with each other in midair.
Meanwhile, the vines thickened, leaves unfurled, white flowers bloomed, and strawberries ripened, filling the air with their sweet fragrance.
The chamber rumbled. Wherever the strawberry plants touched the stone, the brick cracked and dissolved, giving the strawberries an easier place to root.
Meg lifted her hands from her imaginary keyboard. “Is the Labyrinth…helping?”
“I don’t know!” I said, strumming furiously on an F minor 7. “But don’t stop!”
With impossible speed, the strawberries spread across the walls in a tide of green.
I was just thinking Wow, imagine what the plants could do with sunlight! when the domed ceiling cracked like an eggshell. Brilliant rays stabbed through the darkness. Chunks of rock rained down, smashing into the birds, punching through strawberry vines (which, unlike the strixes, grew back almost immediately).
As soon as the sunlight hit the birds, they screamed and dissolved into dust.
Grover lowered his panpipe. I set down my ukulele. We watched in amazement as the plants continued to grow, interlacing until a strawberry-runner trampoline stretched across the entire area of the room at our feet.
The ceiling had disintegrated, revealing a brilliant blue sky. Hot dry air wafted down like the breath from an open oven.

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The Burning Maze, Chapter 3