Chapter Text
Marcy groaned as she pulled herself up from a mire of mud and tried to collect herself. Anne had opened the box and then… then…
She looked around the clearing. To her right were familiar plants, a cattail and dandelion, but they towered over twice her height. To her left were mushrooms, huge, but also glowing! Bright enough that even in the daytime they gave off a blue light. Above her, dragonflies the size of mastiffs buzzed past with a flutter of wings.
It had worked? The box really worked!?
She felt a buzz of excitement charge through her whole body. This changed everything! She wouldn’t have to move away! Well, technically she was still moving. But it was with her friends! They wouldn’t be separated! “Girls, are you seeing this!?” She whirled around to look for Anne and Sasha among the muck and overgrowth, but there was no sign of them. “Girls?” Only the noisy hum of the swamp answered her.
Okay, minor setback, but it was fine. She was in a new world! Full of mysteries to uncover and sights to behold! She would find her friends, and together they would go on adventures and be closer than ever! And who knows, maybe the three of them would be heroes in this world! This was going to be great for all of them… she just knew it.
Marcy took a steadying breath and struck a power pose, trying to fill herself with determination. She looked to the sky and declared, “I, Marcy Wu, will get out of this swamp, find my friends, and experience everything this world has to offer!”
Overhead, a dragonfly that had been hanging off a tree branch took flight, only to be quickly caught in the mandibles of a massive beetle, which was in turn snatched up in the beak of a truck-sized crow.
Marcy felt the blood drain from her face and she scrambled for cover beneath the treeline. Okay, giant dangerous wildlife, good to know. Also, wow it was hot and humid. She took off her sweatshirt and tied it around her neck like a cape. Her first order of business was to figure out what she had to work with. She pulled off her messenger bag and began to search through it.
In the main pocket, she had a mess of old papers and tests with A pluses stamped on top. They would make good kindling at least. Tucked in amongst the papers was a can of industrial strength hair spray that she had borrowed from Sasha for a cosplay. Most of the remaining space was taken up by her hard-bound journal, which was mostly empty aside from some doodles.
Her Nintwodo Shift and phone were holstered securely in the front pocket. She had a charger for each, but she suspected the odds of finding an outlet were minimal. Maybe she could build some kind of generator eventually? Short term, they were going to be bricks of plastic soon, so she switched them to low power mode. The pocket also housed enough pencil lead, mechanical pencils, and gel pens to fill her journal several times over.
She let out a sigh. This wasn’t going to be easy. But then again, if it was easy, it wouldn’t be much of an adventure, right?
She stood up and looked around. Her second order of business was to find drinkable water. She picked a direction at random and started walking. She only made it a few steps before the panicked cry of some creature sounded from deep within the woods, followed by an eerie silence.
Marcy turned on her heel and walked the other way.
Sprig Plantar was an explorer in want of adventure, a hunter in search of prey – a hero in need of a quest! There was a whole world full of things he could be doing, but instead he was riding in a cart to Wartwood with his family. Not the most exciting thing, but all he had to do was be patient. Once he was older, the valley would be his oyster.
Bessie came to a stop just outside the Grub n’ Go and Hop Pop turned to face Sprig and Polly. “Alright kids, I’m gonna do a little shopping, you watch the cart.”
Yes! A chance! “You got it, Hop Pop! I’ll defend this cart with my liiiiiife!” he hollered, pounding on his chest.
“Sprig, I was talking to Polly.” Hop Pop gestured to the little pollywog.
“What? Polly’s a baby-”
“You're a baby!” Polly retorted.
“Polly’s got more responsibility in one flipper than you have in your entire body.”
Sprig scoffed. “Ridiculous! What makes you think I’m irresponsible?”
“Oh, geez, let me think,” Hop Pop counted on his fingers as he spoke. “You ruined breakfast with a bomb cherry, crashed Mrs. Croaker’s cowapiller through my bedroom wall, and left the lights on overnight, which attracted the lightning bugs. Again.”
“So yesterday was a bad day.” Sprig shrugged. He had only been trying to help. Bomb Cherries should have made the soup sweeter, and he had been trying to return the cowapiller to the corral and lost control.
The lights were his bad, though. That one he had just forgotten to do.
“Mhmm. Polly, keep an eye on Sprig, make sure he doesn’t leave the cart,” Hop Pop instructed. He turned towards the Grub and Go and headed in to collect their groceries for the week.
Sprig deflated, hanging off the side of the cart. “Wish there was a way to prove I wasn’t such a goof up.” He swatted at the dirt morosely.
From the edge of town square, a growing wail approached. One-Eyed Wally came barreling out of the thicket. “A spirit! There’s a spirit haunting the woods! I saw it, it nearly took me soul!”
Sprig perked up to watch as a crowd of townsfolk gathered around Wally.
Mayor Toadstool raised his voice over the murmur. “Now, calm down Wally. Just explain what happened.”
“It was horrible!” Wally picked up a stick and started drawing something Sprig couldn’t see. “It had wicked unblinking eyes, unnatural spindly legs, hair as black as a moonless night, and a book clasped in its claws!”
“A book?” Toadstool quirked up an eyebrow.
“A thing of evil, I have no doubt,” Wally said with authority. “In it she draws you from your head to your toe! If she had gotten my name, my soul would have been forfeit! Trapped in its pages forevermore!”
The crowd started to murmur with worry before Toadstool stepped forward. “Well, we can’t leave this spirit to fester in our backyard!” Toadie raised a prepared banner behind the mayor. “Because as Mayor of Wartwood, the safety of every citizen's soul is my top priority. We will expel this spirit for the good of all. Or at least drive it out towards Bog Bottom.”
The gathered citizens clapped appreciatively.
“Great plan!”
“How responsible!”
“Serves Bog Bottom right!”
An idea came to Sprig, genius in its simplicity. “Polly! I have a great idea!”
“Doubtful,” Polly deadpanned.
“I’m gonna get rid of that spirit for everyone in town! Then Hop Pop will be sure to think I’m responsible.”
Polly gaped at him. “Sprig, you don’t know the first thing about spirits. Besides, I’m not letting you leave this cart,” Polly said confidently, flexing one of her flippers. “Unless you think you can get by me?” she taunted.
“Pfft, how hard could it be? Spirits aren’t even alive.” Sprig fished a fist full of candy out from his pocket. “And I mean, are you sure you can’t look the other way?”
Polly hesitated for only a moment before holding out her flippers, “Deal! Now gimme!” Sprig dropped the candy into her maw and hopped out of the carriage, heading towards the overgrowth Wally had emerged from. Sprig heard a faint sisterly call of “Don’t die!” before he was bushwhacking through the forest.
Sprig knew the forests around Wartwood like the back of his hand; he knew when its beasts were out and about, where the best places to hide were, and which hollow stumps had the best bugs for an afternoon snack. So, it didn’t take long for Sprig to find something amiss.
He initially followed Wally’s tracks, but soon found another set that looked out of place. Wally’s two-toed footfalls intersected with strange, single-toed footprints that Sprig didn’t recognize. He followed the tracks a short way to a clearing, where he heard the scritching of a quill on parchment.
Sprig slid into place behind a tree and slowly pulled out his slingshot and a small smooth stone. He nocked the stone and drew back the rubber before peeking around the tree. Sprig wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it certainly wasn’t this.
In the clearing was a creature he’d never seen before. It did have dark hair and spindly limbs, but it didn’t seem to be haunting anything. Its clothes were strange, save for the mud and muck caked on it. It seemed to be observing and doodling a brown quick death shroom. Did mushrooms have souls to steal? How did you even get a mushroom's name?
While he considered this, a small group of butterflies briefly interrupted the creature’s doodling. One fluttered gently onto its shoulder; it looked up and giggled as a second one landed on its nose. It flipped to a new page, and from what Sprig could tell, started doodling the butterfly.
What threat had Wally seen? This thing was weird, but it hardly seemed dangerous.
As Sprig pondered this, the butterflies flew off and the spirit returned its attention to the mushroom. It stared contemplatively at it for a moment before plucking it from the ground – oh, frog, was it going to eat it?
Sprig adjusted his aim and loosed the rock to behead the mushroom. “Don’t eat that!” The creature's wide, owl-like eyes darted up and locked onto him. Sprig felt a chill go up his spine. As it approached, Sprig fumbled for a second stone and pulled back his slingshot. “Don’t come any closer, spirit!”
It stopped, book in hand. “Oh, uh, sure. Hi, so… why shouldn’t I eat that?” it asked; its voice was remarkably high pitch for a spirit from beyond.
“It’s deadly. Saliva turns it to acid.”
It grimaced, writing in its book and mumbling, “Turns… acid… don’t eat.” It leaned down and picked up the mushroom, slipping it into a shoulder bag. “Oh!” Its attention returned to Sprig as it thumbed to an earlier page in the book. “So, you can understand me, right?”
Sprig started to slowly circle around the spirit; that was probably safe to answer. “...Yes, I can understand you just fine.”
“Oh, thank goodness.” They started to scribble in their book “I tried talking to a little blue frog earlier, but he got pretty freaked out. I was worried I was hearing your language translated into my language, but you all were hearing gibberish.” Their eyes focused on their book and they started to write feverishly. “Of course, this does raise questions. Why do creatures in another world speak English? Or are neither of us speaking English and the music box trained my brain to translate all the languages I say and hear back and forth?” They looked up at Sprig again. “Olá! Você consegue me entender?”
“What?”
“Hm… nope, that's not it…” they flipped their weird quill around and started to rub at something on the page.
The spirit didn’t seem interested in Sprig. They were clearly interested in a lot of things, but not him. Was something wrong with his soul? Did it smell? Can souls smell?
From the distance, a large crashing sound sent bugs skittering in every direction. Which meant it was time to hide. Nothing big enough to make a noise like that was good news. Sprig started to flee, but stopped after a few steps and looked back to see the creature absorbed in writing, completely ignorant of what was coming.
“Maybe our worlds made contact a long time ago?” they muttered to themself. “But even then, linguistic drift should be immense…”
In the distance, Sprig could see a flash of shiny red carapace before it brought down an entire tree in its wake. “Hey, we gotta go!” he called, but it fell on deaf ears. They were too absorbed in that book. Sprig looked towards safety then back to the creature. He groaned in frustration and ran back. Once he was close enough, he launched his tongue, sticking it to the back of the book and ripping it out of their hands.
“Wha- hey!”
“Thith way!” Sprig insisted. He ran through the clearing as the sounds of the approaching beast grew louder and louder. He spotted an opening in a hollow log and ducked inside. The spirit leaned their head in, looking irate.
“What's the big id-” He pushed the book into their hands, pulled them down and out of sight, and covered their mouth with his hand.
They looked indignant for a moment, but froze in understanding as a thunderous crash announced the beast’s arrival in the clearing outside. They both waited in tense silence as the massive creature paused in the clearing. After a few moments it continued on its way.
Sprig let out a relieved breath, let go of the spirit, and slumped against the wall of the hollow log.
The creature looked at Sprig gratefully. “You saved me?”
Sprig blinked, considering the words. ”Yeah, I guess I did!” He smiled briefly, but then scowled. “You really have a death wish, don’t you? Almost ate a quick death shroom and then served yourself up for that monster out there.” Frog, I sound like Hop Pop.
The creature frowned, clutching their notebook to their chest. “I… can get a bit obsessed. Everything else just kind of fades away when I’m focused on something,” they said apologetically.
“And the mushroom?”
A growl rang out from the creature’s stomach and they sighed. “Desperation…”
Sprig let go of his judgment and smiled. “Well, I can help with that at least.” He felt around for a seam in the wood and then pulled it away, revealing a banquet of bugs. He picked a few of the best ones and offered them to the creature. They seemed reluctant for a moment, only taking a small bite at first. Then they brightened and started to scarf them down. At least they had good taste.
“Thank you,” they managed between a centipede and a beetle.
Sprig nodded and sat down next to them. He took a closer look at the creature. Bruises and scratches covered their arms and legs. “How have you survived up until now?”
They looked at him, still wide-eyed. “You mean here, in this strange world, far from my home?” they made a sweeping gesture to their surroundings.
“I guess? But also, like… at all?” Hop Pop had always told him that absent-mindedness in the wilderness led to an empty coffin.
“Oh… I had a friend who looked out for me. She’d always pull me out of danger when I’d wander into it…” They frowned to herself as she inspected a purpleback beetle. “We came here together… but we got separated.”
Sprig frowned. “You’re not actually a malevolent spirit, are you?”
“Uh, no? Normal girl.” She held a hand out to Sprig. “I’m Marcy Wu. Who are you, little hero?”
Sprig looked at the offered hand, then up to the girl. Even for some strange creature, she had a warm smile. He shook her hand. “Sprig Plantar.” There was no flash of lightning or ominous crackle of thunder; he didn’t feel soulless.
“Well, thanks for the meal, Sprig. Do you think you can show me the way to town? I feel like I’ve gotten close, but I haven’t been able to find it… there is one nearby, right?”
Suddenly, Sprig remembered why he had originally come out here, and what a dozen superstitious townsfolk were gearing up to do.
“Sprig Plantar! You come here this instant!”
What a dozen superstitious townsfolk and Hop Pop were gearing up to do.
“Wuh oh.”
Marcy watched warily as the little pink frog, Sprig, suddenly seemed to become nervous. The sound of an approaching group was probably good though, they could help!
“Okay, so here’s the thing Marcy. You know that blue frog you talked to before?”
“Yeah, he hit me with his accordian.”
“Right, so that was Wally, and he thought you were an evil spirit after his soul. That’s probably the angry mob he’s drummed up.”
“Oh.” So they were in trouble. Unfortunate.
“Right, so I’m gonna go out there and see if I can lead them away from you, alright? I’ll circle back when I can.” Marcy nodded and the boy jumped out, dragging his foot to obscure Marcy’s tracks. Once done he called out, “Hop Pop! Hop Pop! I’m over here!”
Marcy repositioned herself in the log, shifting so she could look out of a knot hole. She peered out as a group of frog people - and toad people, if she wasn’t mistaken - gathered around Sprig. They bore pitchforks and torches like a stereotypical angry mob. An older-looking orange frog approached Sprig. Or at least she guessed he was older; he had sparse graying hair. Then again, a lot of the frogs didn’t seem to have any hair at all, so that might not mean anything. She was fairly confident, though, that the large tadpole on the orange frog's head was a baby.
Oh, they’re hugging now.
The older frog, Hop Pop she guessed, pulled Sprig into a bearhug. “Oh, thank frog, you’re safe. What were you thinking!?” He set Sprig down and gave him a judgemental frown. “Who knows what that spirit could have done if it got a hold of you!? You keep asking for responsibility, then pull something like this.” Sprig looked down in embarrassment.
A larger member of the mob, one of the toads, stepped forward to put a hand on the older frog's shoulder. “What’s done is done, Hopediah.” He then turned to Sprig, “So, did you see the spirit, boy?”
Marcy stopped her sketching, tensing up. Sprig glanced her way, looking guilty. “Uh, yeah actually-” Marcy stuffed her notebook into her bag and started to plan an escape route. “It went that way” Marcy looked up, but Sprig was pointing away from her, towards where they had met. Marcy smiled, letting out a slow breath of relief.
“Alright, you heard the boy, let’s-”
The toad’s words were cut short as a massive green mantis twice Marcy’s height crashed into the clearing, drawing gasps from the crowd. Marcy stared at the creature in fascination. She pulled her journal back out and started on a new page. Giant mantises were probably part of the food chain for the massive birds.
The large toad called out, “Quick, everyone, Mantis Formation!” The mob, not missing a beat, quickly stacked on top of one another into roughly the shape of a mantis.The creature stared for a few moments before retreating into the forest.
The villagers began to celebrate, but Marcy had the perspective to see what the green mantis had actually been intimidated by. A red mantis twice the size of the first landed in the clearing behind the frogs; the chitin on its back looked like platemail. It let out a screeching roar before knocking the frog tower down. Everyone scrambled for cover, pitchforks and torches abandoned in the face of the terrifying creature. Her eyes scanned for her little pink friend only to hear his voice above her.
“Quick, get away while everyone’s distracted!” Sprig insisted in a hushed whisper.
Okay, yeah, that sounds like a good plan.
“I’ll keep the beast occupied!”
Bad plan! “Sprig, wait!” Marcy tried to stop him, but the boy was already hopping away, slingshot drawn.
Things seemed to move in slow motion as she took stock of the world around her. In her mind's eye she could already see what was about to happen. Sprig hurt, or worse, in a dozen different ways.
Her eyes flashed to one of the torches that hadn’t been snuffed out on the damp swamp floor. Then she was moving, dashing out into the open, forcing her book back into her pack.
“Hey, tall n’ ugly!” Sprig called to the creature and drew back his slingshot.
Marcy’s nimbly swept up the torch from the ground and she sprinted headlong towards the mantis while digging blindly for the can of hairspray in her pack.
“Take this!” The sling stone barely phased the monster, only drawing its attention. The look on Sprig's face shifted into instant regret.
Marcy pulled the can out and dug her thumb under the lid to flick it off, then shook it violently as she skidded to a halt in front of the mantis.
Sprig let out a scream of terror as the mantis drew back its claw, preparing to sweep down at him.
Marcy positioned the torch just in front of the hairspray, then held down the trigger. The aerosol ignited, producing a jet of fire that bathed the creature’s head in flame. It screeched and swung blindly downwards, missing Sprig by a hair.'
“Aaaahhhhhhhh!” Marcy screamed, her common sense finally catching up to the rest of her mind. The mantis roared in anger as Marcy darted around its left side, holding down the button on the hairspray to maintain her improvised flamethrower. The armor plating on the mantis’ back seemed thicker, so she aimed for its legs and underbelly. Marcy stumbled over a loose stone and felt a claw sweep just over her head. She kept strafing around its side, aiming the nozzle at anything that wasn’t already burning.
As more and more of the creature caught fire, its attacks grew more frenzied. Most missed, but Marcy saw one about to bisect her and dove under it. The claw thunked hard against a small tree, almost cutting through it. Marcy tumbled across the dirt, repeatedly trying and failing to scramble back to her feet. The impact jostled the hairspray from her hand and it skittered out of reach. She looked up at the creature, wreathed in fire, as it reclaimed its claw and raised it, screeching in retribution. Just as it was about to plunge into Marcy, there was a loud creaking noise as the tree it had sliced fell and landed across its back. It tried to raise itself to its feet, but as the tree caught fire, it succumbed to the heat.
Marcy locked eyes with the creature as its carapace started to crack and split under the growing heat. It glared at her with feral indignation before its eyes became unfocused.
After a moment she shakily pushed herself to her feet. Adrenaline caused her heart to hammer in her chest like a drum solo.. She turned back towards the scattered crowd of frog-folk.
Her raven dark hair shone with a halo from the growing pyre behind her. She towered over near everyone in the clearing, ragged breath shaking her entire body, and her eyes shone with supernatural green light. “I-is everyone al-”
The frogs erupted into screams of panic as they scrambled over each other to get away.
“Demon! The spirit controls fire!”
“It will burn us all!”
“Save yourselves! RUUUUUN!”
Before she could say anything else, they scattered away through the underbrush.
Marcy let out a sigh. Another amazing round of first contact diplomacy by Earth’s own Marcy Wu.
After a few moments the only ones left in the clearing were herself, Sprig, Hop Pop, and the little pink tadpole.
Hop Pop was trying to drag Sprig away. The little tadpole on his head looked up at Marcy with awe. Sprig just stared at her wide eyed.
“Sprig, come on! Sometimes screaming and running away is the smart thing to do!” Hop Pop advised.
“You just saved me…” Sprig said to Marcy, then turned to his father - grandfather? - and spoke again. “She just saved me!”
Hop Pop paused to reassess Marcy, then looked down to Sprig. “Sprig, I’m starting to think you didn’t tell us the whole truth earlier. What exactly happened?”
“Well, I wanted to show you I was responsible by catching the spirit and protecting the town. But when I tracked her down she was just this girl.” He gestured to Marcy, who waved awkwardly. “She wasn’t dangerous, just lost and hungry… and lonely. And ugly.”
Marcy frowned at that. She understood there were different standards of beauty and she was basically an alien, but still. Words hurt.
“So, when I heard the mob approaching… I told her to hide, and then when the mantis came I told her to run… but she didn’t. She stayed, and saved me.” Sprig gave Marcy an appreciative smile, which she returned. “But I’m sorry. I put you and Polly in danger. Maybe I am just a screw up.”
Hop Pop’s expression softened as he looked down at Sprig, and he took a knee, “I’m sorry if my words earlier pushed you to do this.” He put a hand on Sprig’s shoulder. “I just want you to think things through, so you don’t get hurt,” he said with a smile. “You have a good heart, and a good head when you decide to use the dang thing. And the way you protected this creature proves it.” Sprig jumped into a hug which Hop Pop returned.
Marcy smiled at the sight and rubbed at her arm, remembering times when Anne had gotten hurt or in trouble and her parents had comforted and scolded her in equal measure.
After a few moments Hop Pop pulled back, a stern expression on his face. “All that said, this is definitely a creature from beyond the veil and it’s played on your sympathies to steal your soul.”
“Like a fiddle!” the tadpole affirmed.
“Polly, how did Wally say it takes you?”
“You give it your name!” The little tadpole looked at Marcy with an intense expression of reverence. “My name is-”
Disgruntled, Hop Pop slapped a hand over Polly’s mouth. “Thank you.” He returned his attention to Sprig. “Did it ask for your name?”
“Well, I guess,” Sprig waffled.
“Did you give it your name?” Hop Pop asked
“I mean, strictly speaking… yes?”
Hop Pop let out a long suffering sigh, stood back up to his full height, and handed Polly off to Sprig. “Alright, don’t worry, I’ll handle this.” The elderly frog - she was pretty comfortable with that assessment now - marched over to her with his posture straight.
Marcy braced herself, unsure what to expect.
“Oh mighty spirit of souls and fire, I beseech thee,” he wailed, “please take pity on my grandson.” He dropped to his hands and knees, bowing to Marcy. “We have little in trade, but I will gladly offer my soul in exchange for his.”
Marcy clicked her knuckles together nervously. She looked at Sprig, who just shrugged. She looked back down at the prostrated frog and decided to be honest. “So, first: Hi, I’m Marcy. I understand if you don’t want to tell me your name. But I’m not an evil spirit? I also don’t have Sprig’s soul,” she clarified. “But I could really use a place to stay? At least for a couple of days?”
“That's all?” Hop Pop looked up at her suspiciously. “Hmm… aiming for the chance to collect the rest of our souls by living amongst us. Clever…” he mumbled to himself. “Alright ‘Marcy,’ you got a deal, a few days of rest for Sprig's soul.” He held out his hand. Marcy shook it on instinct, only belatedly realizing that it affirmed the frog's misunderstanding. “Alright, let's head back everyone. Ain’t the first time the Plantars had to house a demon and it won’t be the last.”
Marcy followed a few steps behind, not wanting to impose further. Sprig looked behind him, giving Marcy a smile. Polly, cradled in his arms, gestured between Marcy and herself, mouthing the words ‘We’ll talk later.’
Well, at least she wouldn’t be stuck in that dark dirty cave for another night.
Well… it wasn’t a cave, at least. The Plantar homestead, which she already had a thousand questions about, was ridiculously cute and homey. The basement, on the other hand, looked about as inviting as Hop Pop’s attitude. At least he gave her a pillow and bedroll.
“Alright, that cord there will turn on the mushrooms…” Hop Pop said from the safety of the stairs.
“Huh?” Marcy looked to the pull cord, it looked like one that came with a ceiling fan. Except it just led up to the ceiling. She pulled it and with a click a number of mushrooms growing from the walls started to let out a warm colorful light. “How does that even…” she looked at the pull cord. She pulled it a few more times, the mushroom’s light turning on and off each time.
Hop Pop watched her for a few moments before speaking up again. “Right, well, breakfast is at seven sharp,” he said, “if you even need to eat,” he muttered.
It took Marcy a few moments to process the words. “Oh, thank-” the trap door slammed shut, leaving her in the dark, “-you…” Marcy took a deep breath before clicking the light back on.
Even as her mind spun with questions about how the string connected to nothing could possibly control the mushrooms, her body sluggishly insisted it could wait. She sat down and rolled out her bedroll only to find a surprise waiting for her inside: a small plush bluebird with a piece of paper wrapped around its leg.
She unwrapped the paper and found a little note
I don’t think you’re evil, so here’s a friend for the night!
Below the note there was a little doodle of Sprig in place of a signature.
Marcy smiled; it was a small but welcome comfort. She threw her pillow onto her bed roll, turned the light off, and then immediately tripped in the dark. She carefully stood up and turned the light back on, then dragged her bed closer to the cord, turned it off, and laid down.
She stared up at the ceiling and took a deep breath before closing her eyes.
However, just as she was starting to drift off, her eyes shot open again, and she clicked on the light to look at the note again.
“Yeah, this is definitely written English!” She reached for her notebook and a pencil to make notes in her ‘language’ section.
While I’m at it, there’s the mystery of the different sizes of insects here. Some are the same size as they are on earth, and others are as big as megafauna! If they’re not breaking the square-cube law, then they must be compensating some other way. Is the world more oxygen-rich? More plant matter means more calories in the food chain. The whole valley seems lush, but is the whole world that way?
Then there’s the mushrooms. Are they normal lights that are just mushroom shaped? She poked one of them. No, that’s a real mushroom. Some kind of bio-electrical circuit? Everything around me looks pretty medieval. Some kind of schizo-tech?
Sleep could wait. She should put down her thoughts while they were fresh. It would only take a few minutes…