Chapter 12: Germinating Companionship

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As Haledon stepped into the room, he was hit by a cloud of pungent odours. He briefly coughed in protest of the smell as he waved his hand in front of his face.

"What is that smell?" He asked, anxiously approaching the trunk at the center of the Hypogeal Nexus.

Haledon stared through the dissipating cloud of vapour at Witch-Hazel. They stood with their bramble arms to their hips and a leafy smirk beginning to reveal itself. With a shake of their head and a slight laugh, they raised the goblet again to their lips.

"Don't look at me." Witch-Hazel chuckled before taking a drink.

Shifting his gaze, Haledon noticed a figure behind the trunk. The wooden armour kneeled over a knotted root growing at the tree's base. Arms moved quickly as the head perked up, looking directly at Haledon.

The Druid's long black hair was tied back into a bun atop her head, and dark brown eyes stared back at him. She had a curious look as she investigated him up and down.

Standing, she moved around the tree with the silent grace of a leaf drifting from the canopy. And with the quickness of a viper's strike, she was in Haledon's face where he could see the detailing of her SOIL. Finely cracked bark of irregular plating covered the body entirely, with golden needles filling the space between each plate.

"Hello." Her quiet voice spoke before he could react.

"Hello?" Haledon flinched in reply and looked to Witch-Hazel and back to her.

"I am Seral Druid Spark."

"Seral Druid Haledon." He replied and nodded. "Can I help you?"

"Well, this is the Hypogeal Nexus, right?"

"Yes."

"See!" She turned back to the tree. "We're in the right place."

"Who are you talking to?" Haledon asked as he inspected the bark.

"Me." A squeaky voice answered as a grey-furred body scurried around the side of the tree's radiating moss.

No bigger than Haledon's forearm, the creature jumped to the ground and propped itself on its hind legs. The white fur of their stomach had brown stripes on either side that matched the streaks beside each eye.

A helmet made of roots rested atop the furry face and twitching nose. The vines snaked and weaved down the grey back into a rucksack firmly affixed with woven straps.

"Who are you?" Haledon asked as he leaned down to get a better look.

"Mek-Tek."

"I don't want to assume..." Haledon looked over to Witch-Hazel for approval. Witch-Hazel shrugged before taking a drink. "Are you a squirrel?"

Mek-Tek blinked and looked at Spark.

"Is this Druid for real?"

"I'm sorry, did I say something wrong. I didn't mean to–"

"Yes, he is a Sciurus." Spark replied to Haledon as she looked at Mek-Tek.

Reaching into his backpack, Mek-Tek blindly fumbled his hands around before eventually removing a small sphere. He played with it before a short straw emerged from one end. Reaching again into his pack, he withdrew a small piece of metal with a blue crystal fused on top.

Pressing the crystal into the ball, Mek-Tek inhaled deeply through the straw before looking up with a puffed chest and pursed lips.

"The first uplifted Sciurus to sail the stellar sea." He said before coughing out a vaporous cloud that shrouded him from view.

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