She ought to kill it. A shroomling. Fox-like with a body of gnarled, animated dead wood. Back covered in a bright, ominous carpet of mushroom caps. Hollow eyes with points…
The huntress froze, bowstring taut, arrow fletching pressed against her cheek. The forest had eyes. As she watched, the mossy hill stood up. The woody shrubs became antlers. The moss…
The green and growing things gathered in the greenhouse. They shuddered their leaves and rasped their roots, communicating as only plantlings can. In the ivy-covered house beyond, the plant mage…
There was a knock at the door. The mage stood, smoothing the thick fabric of her gardening robes, and opened it. The plantlings scattered with a rustling of leaves and…
The mage paused on the path home. She could hear … mewling? The high-pitched but muffled cry of something very small and at least a little scared. She followed the…
The plant mage answered the door to find a little plantling with plump green leaves shuffling its roots nervously. Rain poured beyond the doorstep, and slipped from the plantling’s waxy…
The plantlings stretched and sang as rain splashed from their leaves. They wriggled their roots, drinking with greedy joy. The plant mage snapped her spellbook shut. ‘Better?’ One plantling shivered…