Tanner and Grandma roamed the maze of tree roots, marking the passages where they had been by scratching lines in the lichen and moss. The roots varied in size from knee high to towering overhead, and they frequently had to scramble over the smaller roots, or duck under the occasional arches formed by the larger ones. When they encountered the brightly colored spore throwing mushrooms, Grandma looked for other ways around them rather than trying to sneak past them. They found a few more chicken mushrooms, which the foxes dispatched with ease. What they didn’t eat immediately, Grandma made Tanner carry, until his arms were full and he staggered under the load.
“I guess we should head back, since you’re about to fall over from all these mushrooms,” Grandma said.
From behind the mound of mushrooms, Tanner grunted in annoyance. “About time!”
Grandma reached out to the foxes with a tendril of mana. [Could you guide us back to the place we came in from?] she asked.
The foxes tilted their heads this way and that, then yipped in assent and set off. Grandma felt confident that she could have found her way back out by the marks, even if the foxes didn’t help, but it was a lot easier to follow their white tipped tails than try and find knife marks on a root. Soon enough, the final hurdle came into view: the cluster of spore shooting giant mushrooms that guarded the only path to the door.
“Should we just hold our breath and run for it?” Grandma mused.
“I don’t want to die,” Tanner said nervously.
“All right, let’s take as many precautions as we can.”
The foxes watched them as the children tied the strips of cloth around their faces again, makeshift masks to help protect against breathing in the spores. Then, Grandma envisioned the thin bubble that filtered and cleaned the spores out of the air. It shimmered to life around them, a delicate film that caught the diffuse light and turned it to rainbows. Finally, Grandma and Tanner split the armload of mushrooms, each taking half.
“Ready?” Grandma asked.
“Ready.” Tanner gripped his mushrooms tightly.
“Go!”
The children sprinted forward, keeping as far away from the mushrooms as possible. As they neared the fungi, they could see the shafts of the mushrooms bulging. Spores released from the gills under the cap and formed into spheres of concentrated powder before shooting out and chasing after them.
They ran as hard as they could, not pausing to look back, until they reached the doorway to the stairs back down. The foxes brought up the rear, bounding along behind them cheerfully, their ears pricked forward and tails swishing.
“I think it’s safe now,” Grandma said cautiously as she looked behind them. The spore balls had fallen onto the ground, the powdery substance staining the moss a deep purple where they had landed. “It seems like they can’t shoot the spores very far. That’s a relief.”
“I wish we had a way to knock them out from far away,” Tanner grumbled. “Maybe if you could set them on fire before they could poison us. Who knows, they might even taste good.”
“Things that colorful are usually not good to eat,” Grandma mused. But here in this other world, who knew if the rules were the same. Just earlier, she had eaten a mushroom that was walking around like a chicken, pecking and scratching at the ground, and it had had no internal organs at all. Just how was it moving around in the first place? Grandma shook her head. Never mind, best not to dwell on how weird everything was. She was here, so she would make the best of it. In any case, those chicken mushrooms had been quite tasty.
Tanner made a noise of dismay and turned away. “Let’s go back now, I’m worried about Chestnut.”
They made their way back down the stairs, emerging from the tree as the sun was starting to dip down to the horizon. Chestnut whickered softly in greeting and walked over to nuzzle Tanner. The boy murmured soothing words to her as he stroked her nose, then checked her all over to make sure she was unharmed.
“What a pretty horse you are,” he whispered. “Good girl.” He pulled out the feedbag and filled it with a measure of oats, then tied it on so that Chestnut could eat. “There you are, sweet girl.”
While Tanner took care of the horse, Grandma started a fire and set a pot to boiling. They still had some leftover beetle meat, which she offered to the foxes. The foxes sniffed curiously, and each plucked one lump of meat gingerly from the wax cloth. The pair of creatures seemed to enjoy the meat, and eyed the remainder hungrily.
Grandma picked out two large lumps of beetle meat, plopping the chunks into the pot of bubbling water, then let the foxes eat the rest. They fell upon the meal with gusto, polishing it off in a few bites and flopping down with their tongues lolling out, panting happily.
To the beetle meat soup, Grandma added sliced chicken mushrooms. The chicken mushrooms added a savory richness to the soup, though Grandma still wished they had some salt or soy sauce. Still, a little improvement was better than nothing.
The children ate up the soup, blowing on their bowls to cool each mouthful, as dusk turned to night. In the dim light of the embers, the foxes’ eyes glowed, blinked, then disappeared with a rustle of grass.
[Oh! They left.] Mina’s voice was tinged with sadness.
[Wild animals will come and go as they please. I’m just happy that we didn’t have to hurt them.] Grandma felt a little lonesome too.
“I wish we could bring Chestnut into at least the entry of the tree dungeon,” Grandma sighed. “I would feel much safer if we weren’t just sleeping in the open like this.” She laid back on the grass between the roots and stared up at the underside of the leaves. Under the canopy, the light had faded to darkness, and only the dull reddish glow of the embers gave off any light at all.
“What if monsters come out of the dungeon, like in the graveyard?” Tanner asked, lying beside her.
“Well, we only saw mushrooms today, and they were either harmless or couldn’t move, right?”
“Fine, I’ll see if I can convince Chestnut.”
Tanner rolled to his feet and groped about in the dark looking for the stake that the horse was tethered to. Grandma lit a small globe of light in her hand to help him, sending dark shadows leaping about them as she moved. Chestnut had already bedded down for the night, but climbed to her feet as Tanner tugged on her lead. She followed them to the edge of the doorway, but refused to go in after them.
“Well, it was worth a try. Can you tether her right next to the door? At least we can sleep inside, right?” Grandma eyed the opening, and the small flat area beyond it.
They moved their supplies into the flat stony area just inside the doorway, before the stairs started climbing. It was hard and uncomfortable, but they were protected from the wind and rain here. As Grandma and Tanner drifted off to sleep, she vaguely felt a soft, warm, furry body settling in next to her.
In the morning, Grandma was surprised to find herself curled around a sleeping fox. [Mina,] she whispered in her mind, prodding the sleeping girl. [Look who came back.] Grandma held still, enjoying the soft warmth of the fox cuddled up in her arms. She extended her senses and, through the flow of mana, felt the presence of Tanner and the other fox behind her. From the tangle of mana, it seemed like the boy also had an armful of sleeping fox cuddled up with him.
[This is the greatest moment of my entire life,] Mina whispered in utter delight.
[It’s pretty great,] Grandma agreed.
[Do they have names? Can we give them names?] Mina asked.
Grandma stroked the fox’s fur, her fingers gently combing the soft fluff along its back. The fox whimpered and squirmed, then opened one eye to stare at her. “Do you have a name?” she whispered to the fox. Forming a connection with a slip of magic, Grandma sent images of Mina, Tanner, and Chestnut, each with their names. Then, an image of the foxes, with a question.
The fox replied with the same image of themselves, with a question, followed by a sense of wanting.
“Do you want us to name you?” Grandma asked.
The fox licked Grandma’s nose and sent a feeling of approval.
[What should we name this little one?] Grandma asked Mina.
[I’ve never named anything before. How do we name a fox?]
[Well, I’m terrible at names, but I usually pick a word or sound that I like, or that reminds me of the person or thing I’m naming. For example, I like how soft and warm this little fellow is.]
[Then, how about,] Mina paused in thought. [Ember?]
[A lovely name. Want to switch with me so you can tell him?]
Grandma closed her eyes, and Mina opened them. “Ember,” the girl whispered. “Your name is Ember.”
A sudden pulling sensation sucked at Mina’s chest then, as mana rushed out of her all at once. She gasped as exhaustion trickled in in the aftermath of the mana outflow, frantically grabbing at the energy of the world around them to fill the emptiness. In her arms, the fox glowed brightly, a sigil gleaming on his forehead, before the light faded.
“What are you up to now?” Tanner grumbled, shielding his eyes from the glare.
“I named this little fox Ember,” Mina said, still tired. “And then all my magic was pulled out.”
[Thank you for my name,] a new voice said in their head. It sounded young and dignified, full of pride.
[We can talk now?] Mina asked, startled. She stared at the fox, who had sat up to look down at her.
[Why are there two of you in there?] Ember asked, confused.
[It’s a long story,] Grandma answered.
“Do you want a name too?” Tanner asked, interrupting their silent conversation.
The other fox yipped a sleepy assent and licked Tanner’s hands.
“Careful,” Mina warned. “Circulate your magic to pull in power from the earth before you do it, otherwise you might get hurt.”
“Uh. Okay.” Tanner concentrated, and Mina could feel the flow of magic shifting as it swirled around the boy. “Your name,” he muttered, brows furrowed in thought. “Your name is Spark.”
Mina watched in fascination as power surged from Tanner to the newly named fox. Spark glowed, a sigil forming on her forehead momentarily before the light winked out. When Mina could see again, Tanner had fainted from exhaustion.
[He should be fine if you pour some mana into him,] Grandma reassured the panicked girl. Her Mina had read to her about mana exhaustion in the story, an inconvenient ailment that is harmless unless the victim is in a physically dangerous environment.
[I even warned him,] Mina grumbled. She scooted closer to him and let a trickle of power flow into him, slowly replenishing his depleted body.
“Ugh, what happened?” Tanner roused with a groan, rolling onto his back.
“You poured out a lot of magic and then fainted.”
“N-no way.” Tanner covered his face with one arm, but underneath, Mina could see that he was flushed a bright red. Suddenly, the boy sat bolt upright and gaped at Spark. “You can talk!”
“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that part.” Mina smirked.
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