Chapter 17

Haledon stepped through the grass screen and emerged into a quiet corridor. There, Witch-Hazel already stood talking with Spark and Mek-Tek, their goblet splashing sap with each drunken sway.

"Wait...you were—" Haledon blurted out, pointing behind him.

"SOIL modifications," Witch-Hazel replied, noticing the two emerge. "It looks like the three of us are sitting there, listening to Sparrow for the next little while. Let's get moving."

Witch-Hazel stumbled their way down the empty passage before merging into the main corridor. They quietly hummed through the damp wood of their face as the guild rushed to catch up.

Travelling the length of the empty Astralaceae, Haledon felt an eerie sense of abandonment as he investigated the space. He had never seen the ship so desolate. Even in the night shifts' quiet evenings, the occasional Druid could be seen at work in a corridor. But as Haledon passed the abandoned nodes, where Earth Druids once stood, he craned his neck to find the guards.

"Where's the Sequoia Squad?" He asked.

"Watching the speeches, having drinks, and switching posts at the speed of molasses on a cold day." Witch-Hazel waved a hand around. "Which means easy passage without unwanted attention."

Witch-Hazel dragged a hand along the wall. Reaching in and freeing a nutrient line, they stopped to top up their goblet.

"Should they be doing that?" Gazeas leaned in and whispered to Haledon.

"Probably not—definitely not," Haledon replied with a sigh.

"Witch-Hazel," He approached. "Please stop weakening the stilt roots for sap."

"What? Come on, this doesn't hurt anyone."

"Like you pouring sap down my throat in the game? I wasn't okay with that, you know."

"Wow, you had that one germinating for a while, didn't you? Haledon, it was all in the spirit of the game and for the show—"

"No, I did not appreciate it and would like for it not to happen again."

Witch-Hazel inspected the Druid closely as the thin root drained sap into their goblet. A leafy frown revealed itself as their foliar stare softened.

"I apologize for upsetting you. That said, you should know the display was also for the crowd and Sparrow. Everyone saw us—everyone saw you get angry and storm away. That's what Sparrow wanted."

"Sparrow told you to force me to drink so I would get angry?"

"Not in so many words, or nearly as specific."

"Why?"

"That information...I do not have. But, knowing Sparrow, it had something to do with Mesa."

Haledon thought as he stood beside the bramble being. His mind raced to the conversation with Hummingbird. The oddness of her questions and how strongly she had taken him by the arm. He grabbed at his forearm as he remembered what she had said about Sparrow.

"And here," Witch-Hazel continued as they placed the nutrient line back into the wall. "I will even graft the stilt back in place."

They finished, lifting the goblet and soaking their lignin mouth in a swig of sap.

"Thank you," Haledon responded with a nod, unconvinced by Witch-Hazel's display but eager to move on. "So, the Hilum?"

Witch-Hazel continued to lead the group down the hall in relative silence. Stopping at each crossing corridor, they instinctively poked their head out before continuing.

Nearing an unusually boisterous section of watering holes and glades, they overheard Druids enjoying sap and feasting together joyfully. The words of different speakers echoed through the bluster of conversation that saturated the air as the guild marched along.

The coolness of Hannar's comments at one junction was contrasted by the fire of Mesa's passion at the next. At the next passage, the sobriety of Sparrow's eulogy was followed by the optimism of Hummingbird's sermon.

By the time they had walked the ship's length, Haledon had overheard the different perspectives of Primeval Druids one fragmented speech at a time. A mosaic of opinions on Nature and the Druid's place in it had revealed itself to him.

Still, the memory of Hummingbird continued to root its way deeper into the forefront of his thoughts. He felt his mind anxiously racing to paint the picture of Earth's ideologies and what they meant to him.

His thoughts were regularly interrupted by Spark, who would sporadically stop the group. Bringing the guild to a halt, she patiently observed passing groups of Druids as they laughed and sang.

"Why do we have to stop?" Gazeas finally whispered at one of the nodes. "Why can't we just keep going?"

"Because we're supposed to be stealthy."

"Why?"

"Because Sparrow wants us to do it discreetly, and that's what we're going to do." Spark lectured. "Imagine it as a test of your ability to produce no waste. The waste you're trying not to create is a lasting thought in anyone's drunken memory tonight."

"Aside from Basin Racin'," Witch-Hazel interrupted. "That was a yield obtained."

"We yielded the attention of the Druids?" Haledon asked.

"Yes, and a drunken state! Though I'm sad to see you two are sober now."

"Probably for the better," Haledon fiddled with the burdocks across his SOIL. "I don't think I would be very helpful like that."

"You underestimate the power of drunk. For example, how do you sober Druids plan to handle that?"

Witch-Hazel pointed down a side path to a duo of Sequoia Squad rigidly standing before the Hilum entrance. The five rapidly hid from sight before leaning out to inspect the guards more closely.

"I thought it was going to be empty," Haledon whispered. "This does not look empty."

"Sparrow said we might encounter them," Mek-Tek squeaked. "Give me a second."

"Whoa, whoa—" Witch-Hazel extended a hand drunkenly to Mek-Tek. "Let's let the Astra Druids use their sober minds."

"What's the point of that?" Gazeas asked. "Mek-Tek has an idea. We should hear him out. Plus, he’s sober too!"

"Yeah, see!" Spark chirped at Witch-Hazel.

"I was trying to teach you how to apply self-regulation and accept feedback—"

"Through alcohol?" Gazeas asked with a puzzled look.

"You never know if you can succeed at something until you fail repeatedly—but okay. Mek-Tek, what's your plan?"

"Thanks. To begin with, it's not as simple as going up and talking to the guards. We need a proper strategy." Mek-Tek squeaked as he raced up Spark's shoulder. He affixed himself to her SOIL and reached his small hand out to the group. In the grip was a fleshy-looking orb.

"I'm recommending we use my psilopod. You throw it at the feet of the Druids, and with a blast of psilocybin enriched spores, the last thing they will remember is the beginning of a wild trip. Once they're dosed, then we can walk up and persuade them to let us through!"

"Okay, I've changed my mind, that sounds great." Witch-Hazel corrected and reached out their wooden hand. "Just throw?"

"Yep. Get it within five feet for optimal potency." Mek-Tek finished and handed over the pale purple mass.

Witch-Hazel looked at the small orb for a second, inspecting it and giving it a quick sniff. Looking back to Mek-Tek, they revealed a devious grin. They leaned over and lobbed the psilopod towards the Hilum.

Haledon poked his head out and watched as the ball flew through the air, landing between the Druids. There was a moment of tense silence as he felt the rest of the guild beginning to breathe down his neck. They stood in anxious anticipation for several seconds before one of the guards finally looked down at the ball.

Perplexed by the small purple orb, he nudged it with his foot. The sphere immediately popped, oozing a thick blue pus across the ground.

"Ah, gross—" The Druid yelled out and stepped back from it.

"What's that?" The second asked

"I don't know. I think it fell from the ceiling." He looked above at the leafy canopy.

"Hmm, ship rot?"

"I guess...?"

The guild leaned back around the corner and looked to Mek-Tek.

"What?" He replied, fiddling with his backpack. "Non-Druidic Psilogenetics is highly experimental. My research is pioneering the field and will obviously be met with setbacks."

Mek-Tek withdrew his personal orb and took a long drag from the straw. As he did so, his eyes darted anxiously from Druid to Druid.

"Well, let's go with my approach," Witch-Hazel remarked and walked out into the hallway. "Stay here."

Haledon stuck his head out again and watched as Witch-Hazel stumbled towards the Druids. They dragged a hand along the wall as they sauntered closer before eventually stopping beside the Sequoia Squad members and withdrawing a nutrient vein.

The three exchanged quiet words before Witch-Hazel laughed loudly and drank from the goblet that had finished filling. Extending the drink forward, they offered it to the Druids, who eagerly took the steins. Their posture relaxed, and with each sip, the conversation continued. After a few rounds of sap, the two Druids began to stumble down the hall towards the guild.

The guild adjusted its position around the corner and watched the Druids pass by, eventually disappearing down the hall with half-empty drinks.

Haledon was the first to rush out and down the lateral root to a wobbly Witch-Hazel.

"Wh—what?" He asked and looked back down the corridor. "How did you do that?"

"I asked them if they wanted the night off, gave them a drink, and sent them away."

"Just like that?"

"Never underestimate the power of drunk—" Witch-Hazel said before tripping over their own rooted feet and stumbling through the Hilum's threshold.

Haledon looked to the rest of the group. Mek-Tek quietly approached, inspecting his psilopod closely before stuffing it into his backpack. A passing Spark lifted him and placed him on her shoulder as she entered the room.

"I don't like this," Gazeas muttered under her breath.

"Primeval Druid Hummingbird approached me." Haledon interrupted.

"What?" She replied quickly, her attention snapping to him.

"After the race, I thought I saw something in the crowd, but Hummingbird got to me first..."

"What did you see?"

"A pale tree...it was, strange."

Gazeas patiently waited for more. Haledon could see the roots of her mind linking ideas in search of the cause of his hallucination. He didn't wait for her to locate one. Instead, he continued talking.

"Hummingbird talked about Sparrow. That she thought she was a god."

"A what?"

"I don't even know," He replied, shaking his head. "But she came to me trying to get me to think for myself."

"I get that—"

"I'm feeling a bit tired of people telling me what to think." Haledon snapped and looked at Gazeas. "Primeval Druid Farran hasn't been gone more than a few days, and it seems everyone wants to dictate how I manage my ecosystem. I just want people to trust that I know what I’m doing…"

Gazeas’ expression shifted from respectful objectivity to that of empathy. She reached out and took his hand. Opening her mouth to speak, the voice of Witch-Hazel cut in.

"Well, I don't want to tell you how to manage your ecosystem, but we could use it in this room."

The Druids exchanged a glance. With a sigh, Haledon squeezed Gazeas' hand before crossing into the Hilum.

He stepped in and looked at the familiar spore image of the Astralaceaes and Megacolides.

"Whoa, it's changed since I last saw it," Gazeas remarked as she investigated the room. "What's that?"

Haledon looked to the side, where a heap of humus gradually decomposed in the dim bioluminescence. It appeared to have fallen from the ceiling and covered three terraces' worth of seating.

"That would probably be the spider," He replied. "That seems about the right size."

"I guess I imagined something a bit more…discreet?"

"From Sparrow?"

"And look at the nut on this one," Mek-Tek cut in as he emerged at the mound's top. Reaching back, he withdrew an object twice his size and in the shape of an acorn.

"That'll be the fly." He continued, wiping the black ooze from its exterior.

"I guess we didn't need your help." Witch-Hazel laughed and turned back to Haledon.

Haledon watched as the vines that grew over their face twisted and curled into a nervous expression, quickly becoming hostile. With a flourish of their hand, a gnarled staff appeared. Their free palm reached out, sending a whip of vines that wrapped around Haledon's waist. With a violent tug, he was ripped forward to the ground.

"Ouff," He huffed as he hit the stone platform. "What the forswyn, Witch-Hazel?"

A second later, the body of Gazeas tumbled against his.

"Ahck!" She grumbled.

Haledon pushed himself up and looked back to where he had been standing. There, two bramble beasts had appeared hunched over. A putrid green sap dripped along crevices in the gnarled bark of their bodies. The wooden heads bore a stag's semblance, with prominent antlers that curled up to sharpened points.

With the sound of snapping branches, the two creatures straightened their backs and stood eight feet tall. Hollow eye sockets flashed teal as their heads twisted to look at the group.

"Witch-Hazel...what are those?" Haledon began to panic as a newfound emotion took hold of his body: Fear.

"Wendigos." They replied somberly.