Work Text:
The gardener told Stede to avoid the eastern edge of his property, but Stede had always been
a fucking lunatic
curious about the natural world. He couldn’t resist having a poke around. Spilling from the mouth of a cave was
something weird
a spreading fungus like nothing he’d read about. He knelt to get a better look. He didn’t notice the smattering of bones or the struggling hare, or he might
feel trapped
have retreated. Fungi could be toxic; he touched it anyway. It would be his undoing. It would be
the most fun I’ve had at sea in ages.