Book 1: Chapter 42: The Mimicseed.

Book 1: Chapter 42: The Mimicseed.

Life continued on. Despite my worries, despite my fears for Ishilas safety, the world did not stop for me. Night passed into day, and I found myself tired, distracted while I worked. A night of twists and turns had done little for my wellbeing and mental energy, and now I gazed at my half-finished home and groaned inside,

So much remained to be done, and I distinctly was not at all willing to continue on. The walls had been lain, formed to be a proper lodge of notched logs atop each other, cut from the largest, longest trees I could find. With a sigh, I shook my head, sniffed at the wet, cloudy morning and got to work. Wether or not I liked it, it had to be done.

Harvest nipped at my heels, and it was necessary for me to vacate the old home and move into her so I could have a place to process the crops before they would be stored in this houses cellar. Having lent my horse to Lerish, any trips to sell plant parts and other goods would have to be made by the strength of my own back.

The huntress had also all but depleted my reserves of milk, and with the coming influx of bodies on the horizon, the prospect of profit demanded more. Once she had returned, I would ask her for the location of this farmer these cows were from and wrangle more back myself. The bare minimum done for myself to consider this an acceptable day, I turned and instead directed my attention to the fields.

Past the ripened crops, the birds that circled warily above and mice that crept below. Onto my monstrous plants. They were fattened now, large and above all else, dangerous. I had forbidden Artyom from being close to them, for his own safety. The stalks from which I had harvested biter pods wer thick and engorged, birthing new pods from veiny vines.

I bent to examine these half-grown podlings, and found them aboust as expected. Tiny, only partially developed. Their thirst would emerge soon enough.

Every time I approached the metallic burstbombs warranted more and more caution. For the sake of ensuring relative safety and not random violent demises delivered to anything in theimmediate area, I no longer approached without a full bag of sleep spores. Every slow movement was an agony to me as I inched closer to the trembling growths and dusted their surfaces with the powder.

Slowly, quietly, their trembling ceased, and I could harvest several more. Carefully packed into bags filled with spores, they uneasily slept, their raw explosive energy barely contained.

The others needed a much lesser level of caution when handled, but some was still required. Without Ishilas help, the entire process ate through the afternoon, until the final far of freshly-harvested acid was safely tucked away.

Now, my expirements could begin.

Try as I might, I could not summon any excitement. Ishila was not here with her usual lop-sided grin and words of encouragement. I know not if she was even alive. Now, I could do little but wait for the call that this dungeons entrance had been opened and that the search could start.

There remained one particular experiment I wanted to perform. The mimicseed I had tested on living persons, inanimate objects, and the like, but there was one venue that I had not yet touched upon.

Various bags of harvested plants in either hand, I nodded farewell to Artyom, told him to keep Gol on the yard and set off for a secluded place. Where, I hoped, the carnage would be minimal. A clearing in the dense forest yielded itself some time after. With careful touches, I pulled free one of each specimen at a time.

For this, I did not want my essence copied by the mimicseeds, so I brought forth an entire vine. Held by its stalk, it was navigated to hover above a drowsy burstbomb. A gentle brush against the metallic surface was all a lone seed needed to peel open, attach itself, and gain a quivering metallic appearance.

Carefully plucked from the vines, it seemed in every way a miniature burstbomb. Size, shape, and even the same quivering energy. A cautious flick revealed it held none of the originals explosive energy, however.

I had suspected this when it mimicked the cleric-shines energy and radiance, yet offered no healing effect. There remained one other wild possibility I wanted to explore, however.

The first mimicseed lost among the undergrowth, I touched another pale fruit to the slumbering burstbomb, waited for it to absorb its properties and then brought it over to my other specimen. The biterpod.

Its fleshy, toothy surface swelled as the mimicseed latched on. As I watched, the metallic features flowed from the seed into the biterpod. It transformed before my eyes, becoming enlarged, hardened and shaking. Now for the test.

Another bellow and vicious rear of my head tossed it skyward. With the last of its life, the hybrid defied gravity, reversed itself, and shot back down towards me, maw stretched wide open.

And impaled itself right on the horns sharpened tip. Such was the force at which it came that its body only stopped halfway down the horn, nearly split in twain.

All of this happened in the space of several heartbeats.

This was one combination I would not recreate under any circumstances, I vowed to myself. Grimace on my face, I felt at the jagged grooves in my otherwise untarnished horns where the teeth had shorn through. A reminder for myself, and my future ambitions.

Both variations had been relentless, exerting themselves right up until they violently perished. The burstbombs explosive potential combined with the biterpods relentless hunger should have been a predictable outcome.

If I did not know before, I could no longer claim ignorance as an excuse.

Cautious further experiments showed my own essence, although copied by the mimicseed on a direct touch, could not be transferred to the plants. And with that concluded, I gathered everything back, heaved up the broken mossdear corpse and trecked back home.

Thick and dense though the undergrowth was, I had some sense of smell to guide me through the otherwise pathless forest. The trees faded away, and I found myself uphill from my farm, gazing out over what was mine. It seemed idyl at this moment, a picture of tranquility. But I knew that it was a fragile peace I maintained, one that could be shattered at any moment by the world of dangers upon my doorstep.

Blood leaked and dripped behind me as I walked, corpse slung over my shoulder. But it was not for meat I was concerned.

The cleric-shines lonely blood grew amidst dried puddles of blood, its plucked leaves rapidly regrowing as it sucked nutrients from the stained soil. It stood alone, as I had been unable to duplicate it. Insofar, I had been unable to find any seeds on the plant itself, but I would keep trying.

For now, I tossed the corpse into the dirt next to the plant to let it bleed out and feed the flower.

After a long day, I was tired, bloody and matted by dirt and sweat. A bath was in order. Fresh clothes grabbed from the house, I stopped and looked at Artyom dejectedly sitting atop Gol. The felinid was staring up the road, his ears drooped and tail lifeless. A small pang went through my body as I observed his sadness. I wasnt the only one who missed Ishila, and burying ourselves in work hadnt paid off for either of us.

Shell be alright. I tried to convince him, but whatever facade of courage I mustered was revealed by the tired tone of my voice.

Thats what I want to believe, yes-yes. He muttered. Annoying orc brat. Free from her torment. Not here to bother me, no-no.

There was little I could do to lighten his dejected tone, but still i tried.

Go get yourself some milk. I suggested. Wth my permission.

No." He simply replied. Bad for me. We know this both. Stupid to bury myself in addiction and hope for better times-times.

I respected that decision. With a nod, I trudged off, intent on thoroughly cleansing myself. The water proved lukewarm, and was soon filled with dirt, loose hair and blood. All which would soon be washed down to water my crops. A small whisper that no matter what hardship I endured, the world marched ever onwards.

It was sometime later that I sat beneath the massive tree and watched the sunset, my mood pensive, a lit lantern bobbing by my side. I did not know fully what that moment signified, but at the time I was entranced by the image of a small, warm light shining into the darkness, faintly bobbing on the wind.