Chapter Text
Someone from the old world once said “If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden.” And little did he know just how accurate it would become. Some people say that after humans polluted the world to a near ecological collapse that the Earth got its revenge, others claim the corpse of a dead god turned to dust in the wind and seeded the world. What really happened? I don't know as much as I'd like, I'm no scholar. I'm not here to uncover the secrets of the Bloom, the collapse of the old world, or this festering sickness that has taken root in so many of us. Well, I'll leave all that to modern historians.
It was a day like any other that a lone hunter repeated for the past few years. She wakes up to the incessant beeping of a digital alarm clock. It read eight AM. As usual she begrudgingly got up and started her day. Checking the greenhouse, food preserves, the structural integrity where her home meets the inside of the tree hollow, the batteries.
No change, good.
A few weeks worth of food, preserved or refrigerated. She performs a quick morning harvest, using a trowel to dig out the most versatile vegetable, the potato. Just one for today, before she moves to rinse the dirt off at a sink. The hunter makes sure to season it with what little she has available before cooking and eating it alongside some preserved meat. An average day like any other, gray.
Oh, I'm about out of meat.
A sigh escapes from her. The hermit puts on a dark green t-shirt and patchwork jeans. Tucks her pant legs into mid shin boots, donningand buttoning a leather duster, tying her tattered scarf around her neck with a set of motorcycle goggles hanging loosely over it, and finally settling a dark tan wide brimmed sporting sun hat on her head and makes sure the right side is clipped up for convenience. On the way out she pockets a cigarette tin, sheaths a machete, shoulders her rifle, pulls the scarf over her mouth and nose. The lone hunter checks the two spore purifiers at the first barrier out of her house. Working in perfect order.
She ultimately seals the final barrier of a great ruinwood tree hollow. East was her heading, the search for some animal big enough to sate an appetite for the foreseeable future began with a rhythmic hacking away at branches and vines. Luckily she didn't have to journey far untill the huntress greets her only friend. Chopping away at some particularly troublesome plant limbs, clearing the path to a familiar clearing. “Hello again, Rowan.” His corpse twitches from its kneeling position in response, or he just twitches in general, it happens a lot. She looks down at his form, his legs spread apart, half buried in the soil, thorny vines and roots branching down into the dirt, his face screaming out in anguish towards the heavens as grayish brown branches with streaks of gold grow upward from his mouth and eye sockets, covered in a large variety of flowers growing off the same stem, the sapling of a ruinwood. “I'll free you one of these days I swear, I always forget my matches.”
The hunter pulls the cigarette tin from the left pocket of her duster and flips it open. She picks a small piece of dried root and replaces the tin to her pocket. Pulling down her scarf before placing the herb in her mouth and biting down. She exhales. Another day like any other. After pulling her scarf back over her nose, the lone huntress grips the rifle sling on her shoulder and starts walking East.
The scent of dogwood always draws me closer to the city. Perhaps the cornel deer want to avoid the great trees. Regardless, I hate traveling East, the further I go, the bigger the risk of running into someone, which is exactly what I wanted to avoid.
She peers around a nearby tree.
They're traveling in and around one cart pulled by a flaxmane mare, a light brown horse whose tail and mane is a beautiful green inlaid with dozens of light blue flowers. And she's in such pristine condition, no sign of decay, how'd they get that? Regardless, seven men in and around the cart, they appear to be provisional government soldiers, one woman in the cart, she appears to be of a lesser position, and definitely wants nothing to do with this. Ah, shit.
Out of the forest emerge five figures covered in green and brown robes, their bodies covered in floral and fungal growths. Each of them carry a bow. The one in the brightest green robe steps forward. The pinkish leaves on the branch growing from his left temple sway as he moves. “You dare trespass in the holy wood of Gaia, those who lock themselves in towers of glass and steel. I shall ask this of you once. Return to that damned city, or shed your mortal lives and give yourself over to Gaia's blessing.”
Damn Gaianists, they always talk like that.
The caravan's obvious response was for everyone to draw their guns. The leader of the group hops off the cart and approaches the wizened man in green robes with an aggressive stride. The hunter watches their interaction through her ironsights until the glittering of a gold colored dust catches her eye. She panics and scrambles to open her cross body bag and quickly finds and equips her respirator then tightens the goggles over her eyes.
The caravan leader places the barrel of his pistol directly against the forehead of the old man. “Look, I don't give a shit about your stupid ass god. We're heading north, just stay out of our way and you get to worship your flowers for another day.”
“It is far too late for that my friend. Our Gardeness has become Alraune and our numbers lay depleted. You stand in her grove on the eve of a blessing. You should bask in the glory of its golden splendor.”
The other only now notices the few specks of gold and green floating in the air. He abruptly turns his back on the priest. “We're leaving, now!”
“A shame then.” The old man pulls back his sleeve and reveals a sharpened branch growing out of his arm, before ramming it into the back of the caravan leader. The point between two specific ribs so it would hit the heart. Both sides open fire. A man with an assault rifle opens up on a cultist covered in thorny vines, tearing through flesh, bone, and plant fibers as the recoil draws the fire upward into his skull until an arrow finds its mark through the gunner's throat. Another fire's his pistol into the chest with branches growing from his chest. All that manages to do is cause the robed figure to stumble until the shooter catches an arrow to his chest in turn. One with a rifle manages to strike a cultist in the head. He pops up to yell to his comrades. “Aim for the head!”
And the irony of that statement is too lost on the rifleman as he also takes an arrow to the skull. In all the confusion, the lone woman in the cart had been biding her time until the right moment to run. She hops out of the cart and makes a break for the tree line. Another guy with a pistol turns to shoot at her feet in an attempt to stop her, for his distraction he takes two arrows to the chest which still causes the gun to fire, grazing the woman's leg and causing her to scream in pain as she collapses. The remaining gunmen only manage to kill one more cultist before they too are slain.
The flaxmane got free and fled during the conflict. The wizened man approaches the cowering woman. The sky begins to darken. He begins to speak but his words get stuck in his throat as he begins coughing, well, that word doesn't begin to describe the action, doubled over in pain, each heave causing blood and pink flower petals stained red to drip or flutter out of his mouth, pooling at his feet. The other remaining robed figure rushes to his side. “Brother!”
Only to be waved away by the light green clad figure. Barely choking out the sentence. “This pain is a small price to pay for Gaia's blessing.”
Which causes the other to acquiesce until the fit subsides. The sky grows darker. After taking a moment for his paroxysm to subside the old man returns his attention to the woman trying to scoot away. A flurry of golden powder descends onto the group. “Ah, her blessing has come at last.” He raises his hands to the sandstorm strength winds, visibility decreasing every second. The hunter sighs.
Okay… fine…
She takes aim. Bang. A shot rings out. The old man turns to the source of the noise. “What?!” Only to turn back when he hears his brother collapse, which of course…
Up, back, forward, down.
…was the last thing he saw. Bang. Shouldering her rifle, the huntress runs to the side of the other woman, her voice heavily distorted and twisted by the respirator. “Don't breathe it in.” Before she could respond the sniper ripped off her scarf and draped it over the other's mouth and nose. “You don't have to trust me but if you're stuck out here you will die. Can you walk?”
The woman shakes her head. “My home is nearby, I can bring you back to the city after the spore storm ends.” The huntress with some difficulty scoops her up and starts carrying her deeper into the forest. After what felt like an eternity, the injured woman hears a constant mechanical rhythmic noise. She wants to look but cannot due to the assault of gold and green dust moving in gale force winds. Soon the sound of wood creaking and a zipper opening and closing is followed by a sudden blast of wind from two directions. The distorted voice speaks again. “You can open your eyes now.”
Her green eyes flutter open. She looks up at the figure holding her. The area is filled with artificial light from a plastic survival lantern illuminating the wooden hollow the pair reside in. They move forward, the second barrier to entry, a tent cut, spread out, and stitched with others, nailed to the walls and floor to make a mesh that keeps spores out. Then the two pass through a third wall of fabric. The one being carried looks up into the tree hollow, well, cavern is a better word for it. Rising up tens of meters, various ropes, tarps and lights hang down from above. Several structures partition the large space. A weird translucent and white structure takes up maybe a fourth.
Taking her to another smaller partition, seemingly dug out into the heartwood. The smaller room is rather dark but also covered in a lot of furs and carpets. The woman is dropped onto a bed before the other starts ripping off her own restrictive clothing. Her hat, goggles and respirator are thrown aside and her duster shed. The one on the bed clutches and pulls the scarf off her face stained with suprise. “Oh- a woman… I couldn't tell cause of the mask and coat…”
She is ignored. The huntress hurries out of the room and returns with a large dark wooden box, a canteen, and a bucket. The string clasp holding the box closed is unraveled before a small door creaks open. The hermit rips open the bottom of the other's pantleg. First pouring a clear liquid over the wound, causing the other to grit her teeth and cry out in pain. “It stings!” she breathes through her teeth. The one remaining silent grabs a jar of orangish viscous liquid and pours a little onto a weird oval shaped leaf before pressing that onto the wound as well and then wrapping the bandage in twine.
“There, that should prevent infection.”
“W-who are you?”
“There is still One issue to address, you inhaled spores, do you understand what that means?”
“Ah- vaguely-”
“Close your eyes, tilt your head back and take a deep breath from your mouth.”
“Why? What are you-”
Sterner. “Just do it!”
The woman on the bed acquiesces. However right as the woman inhales, the other pours the contents of the canteen into her mouth. She begins coughing, hard. Doubling over forward as the bucket is thrust into her arms as she keeps hacking up a lung. Gasping for breath so much she starts gagging and vomits into the bucket. She is barely able to choke out between coughing fits “What. The. Fuck!?”
The huntress stays silent while resealing the supplies.
“Oi, answer me. What the fuck are you doing? You tryin’ to kill me!?”
The only response was a gesture toward the bucket, looking down into it, quite a few particles of a gold looking substance floating within. “Oh.”
The other simply rolls her eyes and grabs the bucket before exiting the small side bedroom. The injured woman again finds herself alone again. A dim light being the only thing illuminating the comfortable space. Time passes. How much? She doesn't know. Not until her strange… savior? captor? returns. The huntress merely sets down a plate of vegetables and turns to leave.
“Oi. Stop right there. You owe me an explanation. Several.”
A sigh escapes from the woman and her body abruptly turns before she responds with a barely audible “What?”
“Why did you save me? What are you planning on doing with me, and why do you refuse to speak very much?”
“Pity, send you home, and it's a waste of energy to converse with someone who won't stick around. Are we done?”
“No we're not fuckin’ done. Pity? You carried me several miles through a pollen storm after killing two tree huggers.”
“Well I didn't exactly save you out of the kindness of my heart, that's for sure. So let's go with pity. And it was a spore storm not a pollen storm, way worse. And the Gaianists deserved it.”
“And you're just gonna let me go? Just like that?”
“What would I gain from keeping you? I'm not that lonely. I have no reason to hand you over to them or those up north. I don't want you dead, but I want you out of my forest.”
“About that… I don't think I can exactly go back…”
“Not my problem… stop looking at me like that… okay… okay fine… why can't you go back to your sewers?”
The injured woman's face lights up with a realization. “You are a scraper, aren't you?”
“Not for a long time, and I don't need to explain why to a sewer rat.”
“Unless you can't go home either… look at that, a scraper and a rat, kindred spirits.” Her expression turns smug.
“I can tell you for certain, you don't want to be my kin.”
“You sure? It's not too late. I mean you almost literally swept me off my feet.”
“It'll take more than flattery to desire forming a connection with someone who's going to leave.”
“Woah, girlie, I already told you, I've got nowhere to go, so at least let me crash here for a bit”
The hunter acquiesces. “fine, but as soon as you can walk unrestrained, you gotta work for your food.”
“So like, are we just gonna keep calling each other ‘you’ or are you gonna tell me your name?” The woman leans up against an exposed dull brown and gold flecked root of the ruinwood tree. The huntress stands waiting while looking up and chewing something under her scarf. “Does it matter? We could afford an entire other person before names became necessary. It seems pointless.”
“You aren't curious about me?”
“If it'll get you to stop making that pained face at me I suppose it wouldn't be too distressing…”
“I'll go first then. Cypress Hanover.”
“Damn, green eyes and a plant name, you're just a beacon of bad luck.”
“I… can't deny that…”
“Given how I found you, clearly.”
A rope lowers itself between the pair. The huntress steps the arch of her boot onto the loop at the bottom before wrapping her arm around it. “Remember, you only have a few seconds to get on.” After ascending untold meters she passes the first few branches that are far wider than she is tall, and about a minute later something clicks as the rope abruptly stops. She steps onto a wooden platform and steadies her footing before flipping a switch which causes the rope to descend again. The next words that Cypress evokes are stained with uncertainty. “That was fucking terrifying… we're so high up…”
“Oh right you aren't used to heights, sewer rat. I saw similar views from my home at the top of my sky scraper.”
“Don't act like you weren't chewing on that root. I noticed, you take a piece out whenever you're anxious. And you're not only a scraper but a penthouse scraper? I'm practically in the presence of royalty.”
“It's American ginseng, yes it helps calm me down… But don't think I didn't notice you were a rat princess yourself. You're far too understanding to be so common.”
“Observant aren't you? Yes, my father is king of the green line. However… I won't let you dodge the question again. Speak your name. I just have to learn more about a scraper turned hermit.”
The huntress gestured and began walking across the various wooden platforms and ramps that interconnect all of the branches. “Careful with my scarf. A lot more spores will be up here, keep it secured no matter what.”
“Oi, what did I just say?”
“...Fine… My name is… Dahlia.”
“Last name too.”
“Moser.”
“Wait… ‘Moser’, like the president?”
“Oh, she made it? My condolences.”
Green eyes narrow, locked on the visage of the other. “Now that you say it… Blonde hair and gray eyes… you do strike a remarkable resemblance to her… Are you-”
“Do not akin me to that thing. I am no broodling of hers.”
“Touchy subject, got it.”
The huntress pauses and sighs. “No, sorry. Some rather unpleasant memories seeped to the surface. I'd rather not think about my aunt.”
“... Can I ask about it?”
“If you must.”
“That would make your mom… Montana Moser? The head government researcher that disappeared?”
“Ha. Disappeared is certainly a word for it.”
“So what happened? It was right after the tree huggers took the blue line tunnels about a decade ago, right?”
Dahlia’s pace slows. “Yes… my father… was king of the blue line at the time-”
“Oh…”
“Yes, he was lost with that section of the undercity and the provisional government did nothing to help. My mother left the city with me and we set off into the wilds. We found the hollow leading under the tree and the two of us lived here for around eight years…”
“I'm… sorry for your loss. But if it makes you feel better, the government did torch the whole line and we moved back in. But you're a scraper and an undercity denizen? That, like, never happens.”
“Let's… drop that topic for now, we're almost at our destination, and look.”
The pair gaze off towards the east, very faintly could the city's skyscrapers be made out, choked with vines and giant pink clematis flowers reaching several stories in height. Cypress' eyes widen at the view, she's never even imagined seeing the city like this. “Dahlia… I've been wondering something. I know the gold pollen is the one that causes hanahaki disease, but you corrected me on that, calling them spores, what's the difference?”
“Ah, simple. Pollen is half of what's required for a plant to bear fruit and reproduce, mainly in flowers. That being said, a spore is essentially a self contained organism that can grow on its own. Ruinwood trees don't have flowers, but yet it produces spores which when inhaled can cause flowers to grow from animals. The worst of which are inhaled by humans. You'll either grow into a ruinwood yourself or a large amount of other terrible megaflora. Even those clematis flowers decorating the city have human DNA running through them. A scientific impossibility, yet that remains our reality. Ah, we're here.”
The green eyed woman is surprised by the presence of several buildings hung by and ripped apart by the great tree. “What are these?”
“Apparently in the past this would be called a shopping center, I'm sure you've seen these in the city.”
“Yeah but usually they're picked clean and in way worse shape.”
“It's ripped in half?”
“Yeah but besides that.”
The huntress climbs up a branch onto the crumbling concrete surrounding the suspended structure and helps the other up. Cypress follows the other inside the outermost building. “So, what are we here for?”
“We’re finding you a means to defend yourself. We got serviceable guns and hunting bows. So what do you want?”
“Um…”
“Ah, with a gun, ammo is sparse, we have plenty of bullets here, but I doubt they'd last over a lifetime, and they make a lot of noise. A bow however is way quieter, you can go pick up arrows, but has a lot less stopping power. And a crossbow is very much a good in between, less arm strength is needed but way slower. Though I must say I'm quite happy with my Tikka.”
“Wow, I didn't know you could be happy.”
Dahlia’s face goes deadpan before she turns around and begins looking through what's available. “Are you more of a backpack or shoulder bag kind of girl?”
“... backpack I guess?”
“Thank goodness the previous world used far too much plastic. Quite a bit of the stuff here is intact.” The gray eyed woman tosses a plastic wrapped bag to the other. “So bow, crossbow or gun.”
…
…
…
After the two walked back across the many brown and gold limbs reaching out of desperation for the sky, they returned to the rope mechanism. Cypress tilts her head to the side. “Okay, I'll bite. How does this work?”
“If you're that interested. So the basic mechanism I scavenged from an automated roller style garage door. Basically, this part just spins and winds the climbing rope onto this spool. This mechanism that the rope threads through is like a switch. You see that knot in the rope. When it hits this switch the circuit stops and inverts. And when powered again it turns the other way, dropping the rope down and then back up. And can be triggered by this button, or the one in the hollow in the tree.”
“Oh… I… don't know what any of that means. But I kinda get it.”
“Fair enough, you first?”
In a small partitioned corner of the great ruinwood hollow the huntress is sitting and leaning against the arm of a rather old looking couch. Just another thing she's scavenged from across the many ruins that dot the verdant land. She reaches over to her mother's antique bookshelf. The only alone time the poor woman has had in a month. Pleasantly and completely alone, nothing could ruin this wonderful peace… Except of course by the vibrations that suddenly appeared from the other side of the couch. As the disturbance moves closer, a warmth entangles the huntress’s side. “Dahlia! Whatcha got there?”
The huntress replaces a leaf between the pages and abruptly closes it. “I thought I told you, you aren't allowed in here.”
“You did. I ignored it. I was curious what was behind these walls. I didn't know you had a reading room.”
“Please leave.”
“Hmmm… no.”
“Why not?”
“Well… you looked pretty sad before you went In here… so, I don't really want to leave you alone to be sad. You saved me… you gave me a home. So, can't I?”
The huntress sighs. “Fine.”
“Read to me.”
“What, can't read?”
“I can! I just would prefer if you did it. It reminds me of how my mother used to read for me. Her wasting what little light we had on me. Dad used to get so mad…”
“My mother read for me as well… Okay, fine.”
“Yay!” The rat princess presses her body closer against the other and rests her head upon their shoulder.
“Do I have to? Shooting things seems fun but this doesn't.” Cypress gives her best puppy dog eyes. The huntress however, is not so easily swayed this time. “I'm teaching you to survive without me. Stop trying to get out of chores. We aren't going to be together forever, and I can't take care of you forever. Now, see how this plant is starting to die, that means it's ripe. So you rip out the stem like this… and then use this trowel gently to find and dig out the potatoes.”
“...Hey Dahlia…”
“What?”
“I've had a question for a while now.”
“Is it about potatoes?”
“...No…”
“Then it's not important…” The gray eyed woman sighs. “Ask it anyway.”
“So… why do you let me sleep in your room while you sleep out in the main area in a sleeping bag?”
“It's fine, I don't mind.”
“You sure? I don't mind switching.”
“I said it's fine.”
“Actually your bed is big enough for the two of us, why don't we just-”
Whatever Cypress was about to say is cut off as the huntress seemingly in a fit of anger, stabs the trowel hard into the wooden frame of the growing plot. “Drop the subject. I'll teach you how to harvest the rest later.”
The other stands wide eyed and speechless while Dahlia steps out.
“Dahlia, what was it that you put on my leg the day we met?”
“Oh? Ah, I disinfected the wound with ethanol, used sap from a pine tree, and then wrapped it in a plantain leaf, both of which have antimicrobial properties. I'd have felt really bad if it got infected-”
“Oh? Cracks in your aloof facade, dear savior? You even acted like you were gonna throw me out, but in reality you just can't leave a poor girl be, now can you?”
"Shut up."
The rat princess is staring directly up inside the enclosed space of the ruinwood tree. “Dahlia… I've been meaning to ask. The fuck are these?”
“Hm? Ah.” She joins the other in staring at the large chunks of stone hanging from the top of the wooden cavern. “A battery.”
“Nah, you're gonna have to explain that better. That's not a battery, that is a hanging rock. Batteries are small and made of metal.”
“It's a gravity battery. When we first moved in, all the batteries available in the shops were dead, so we needed a way to store power for the night. During the day, the solar panels cause that motor to slowly turn and pull it up. And as soon as there is no power getting input they start descending and generate power using the same motor. Simple.”
“The fuck you mean simple?”
The pair is journeying east, still in search of bigger game than a cotton hare. The huntress’s keen eyes were the first to spot the squad of government troops. “Shit. Cypress, give me back my scarf and take the respirator.”
“What's the plan? We gonna ambush them?”
“No, listen and listen well, you know the way home? I need you to run back and lock the door.”
“You don't trust me? I can handle myself well enough, you don't think I can?”
“This isn't about trust. Look, they don't have a cart, and they're traveling light. They clearly aren't a caravan to the farm on the northern plains, which means they're looking for something. Probably the lost caravan. And by extension, you. Please, I'll give them the caravan and then come home.”
The expression on Dahlia's face was far darker and desperate than Cypress has ever seen on her. “Okay.”
…
…
…
“Oi, heads up, possible combatant. 12 o’clock.” The man in the front of the squad calls out, causing the others to ready their arms. “Identify and state your purpose.”
“A hermit, I assure you. I was just hunting for cornel deer when I came across you lot. I must ask, what's some provisional government lackeys doing in this neck of the woods?”
“That's government to you. President Moser has made us a proper government, not just provisional anymore.”
“Apologies, it seems I am a bit out of the loop. So what are some government lackeys doing in this neck of the woods? Could it be you're searching for a missing caravan?”
The man's eyes narrow. “What's it to you?”
“I may know it's final resting place, I may not. You could probably find it by combing this whole forest, or, I could save you all a whole lot of time and effort.”
“What's stopping us from taking what we want at gunpoint?”
“You ever kill a sun beast with nothing but a knife? Didn't think so. It'll take more than that peashooter to bring me down”
The soldier begins laughing. “Hahaha. Feisty, I like you. What do you want?”
Dahlia slings her rifle on her shoulder. “I got four conditions. One: That guy at the back has a .308 mossberg right? Give me some of his ammo. Two: A spare respirator, I'd rather be given one instead of taking one off a corpse. Three: I was never here and you didn't see me.”
“And four?”
“What do you have in your rations these days?”
…
…
…
“Here we are. One wrecked caravan as promised.”
One of the soldiers is staring at the gaianist corpses. “Ew… do they always twitch like that?”
Dahlia and the lead soldier in unison: “Yes.”
The huntress continues the thought. “They've already started taking root, it's gonna be real dangerous here soon.”
“Where's the flaxmane and the girl?”
“When your people started shooting, the horse got spooked, got free, and fled directly away towards the west. Long gone by now. And the girl tried to run south, but one of your guys shot at her which made the sewer rat run north into tree hugger territory. I wasn't about to risk my hide going after her. We square?”
“Why do you know so much about what happened?”
“Cause I caught the tail end of it. I even domed two of the robed weirdos. The girl clearly had some value to you so I thought I'd be able to sell her back, but she ran deeper in. Not worth the risk. Can I leave now?”
“...Yeah, get out of here.”
One of the soldiers turns to the lead. “Should we let her go? Just like that? She's clearly hiding something.”
“Eh, let the hermit be. It's not worth the hassle.”
…
…
…
The huntress closes the final barrier. To her home. “Guess what I got~” Only for the other to run right into her and hug far too tightly. “Cypress?”
“Don't ever do something that reckless again. I looked back and saw them draw a gun on you… What if you didn't come back? What would I do then?”
“Don't be so dramatic, I've taught you most of what you need to know, you'd be fine without me.”
“That's not why…”
An earth shattering noise rings out and shakes the very roots of the great ruinwood tree. Cypress appears incredibly uncertain and fearful. “What the fuck was that?”
“Lightning. Don't be so dramatic.”
“No! Lightning is that crackle that happens far in the distance. Not the whole world shaking!”
“Ruinwoods are the largest things around, of course it'd hit it, but also ruinwoods aren't very flammable so it's fine.”
“How is that fine?!”
“Look at the bright side though, with lightning comes rain. And rain means we can finally go out without a mask for once. As soon as it's over.”
“Oh… that actually sounds really-”
Cypress is immediately cut off by another earth shattering bolt. She flinches at the sound and cowers For a moment as Dahlia takes her hand. “It'll be raining for at the very least a day, so for now, I'll take this time to help get your mind off of it.”
“Cypress, I just remembered, you said the prov- I mean the government cleared out the blue line of all the invasive plants, right? How'd they agree to do that?” Dahlia appears genuinely curious.
“Well… president Moser wanted to trade with the pastoralists on the plains up north… And the undercity seemed happy to pay the price in exchange for no interference from the government.”
The huntress’s eyes go wide. “The fucking cannibals up north? Actually that explains a lot. The cheese I managed to get from those soldiers, why you were on a cart headed north. So you were… payment?”
“Yeah… people in the undercity aren't exactly on the government ledger so no one notices when we go missing…”
Cypress quickly yet maintaining a quiet step makes her way to the huntress. She speaks in a hushed tone. “Dahlia. I thought I was hearing things at first… but someone is knocking on the door?”
“Fuck. Grab your bow and come to the door.”
“Why? Who would-”
“Hurry.”
Dahlia rushes over to her mounted rifle and then to the door. Giving the rat princess a hand gesture to stay beside the frame, yet out of sight. The entrance creaks as the wooden rectangle pulls back and to the side. Standing before her is an older man in a set of half red half lime green robes in which the colors mingle about half way down. The upper left corner of the skin on his face is missing, with a few visible spots of the skull underneath the sinew and flesh, a few fungal stalks poke out from the edges of the wound, further examination shows scarring and vines growing around his neck and disappearing beneath his garb. The man smiles. “Sister of the woods, I hope I find you well. I come bearing a request, no, a plea.”
Dahlia bows her head slightly. “What do you wish of me, brother Reed?”
“A very simple request. We wish for the girl.”
“Apologies brother, but I know not of which girl you speak.”
“Do not lie sister, our scouts have seen you together. We have had a rather amicable relationship in the past. As was our agreement, you had handed over your previous companion in exchange for our leniency and respect of territory boundaries. We will not fight you, while many of my younger brothers remain obstinately aggressive, you do have the right to refuse.”
Cypress's eyes widen at the revelation that has just been spoken aloud, they gaze toward and revere Dahlia with some sense of dread and fear. The huntress stays firm. “You speak too much for your own good brother.”
“Apologies sister, I did not intend to offend. Regardless, are you still so certain?”
“Juniper was a special case and you know it. She even became your Gardeness. I refuse to hand Dahlia over. I'd put a bullet through every single one of you before I'd let that happen.”
“I understand, forgive my insolence then, sister. I understand that you would not wish to part from her given your inclinations. Though I truly wish her and you would partake of Gaia's blessing, I do hope your wishes come true as well. Sister of the woods.” The man bows. “As an apology, you may partake of a cornel deer from our territory. I waited for the rain for this very reason. It should be safe for you. And with that I must return to our garden, goodbye sister.”
“Goodbye brother Reed.” The huntress returns the door to its original position before locking the deadbolt. After the sound of footsteps fade Cypress appears somewhere between afraid and angry. “You have a lot of explaining to do. What did he mean, you gave the damn tree huggers a companion?!” Cypress's knuckles turn white from how hard she's clutching the handle of her recurve bow. Dahlia sighs. “I… have to show you something.”
…
…
…
The rat princess continues gripping tightly to her bow as the huntress walks in front of her. “How much further is it?”
“The clearing is up ahead…”
Emerging into a familiar break in the endless forest, a lone figure stays kneeling in the center, face upturned to the heavens, roots jutting out randomly. A figure clad in flowers and vines, branches jaggedly emerging from his eye sockets and mouth, while his body remains eternally tormented and twitching. Dahlia can faintly see Cypress mouthing “What the fuck.”
The huntress walks towards him. “Cypress. You… Are not the first person that has been living with me. After my mom died I picked up two reject siblings from the city, Juniper and Rowan. They… Well, they really helped me deal with a lot of my feelings. I took what my mom taught me and in turn taught them. Honestly the only reason my… our home is as comfortable as it is was because of them helping me set everything up. Rowan became like a little brother to me. Juniper… well… she became far more than that. I loved her. But being named after plants is bad luck. It finally caught up to us on one fateful day. We got stuck in the midst of a spore storm. They were usually so predictable. But me being my selfish self was the only one with a respirator. Usually scarves and the like were plenty to keep the ambient gold dust away, but here… The symptoms of hanahaki disease are not pleasant. It starts with discomfort in the lung area. It will persist until stems grow and you start coughing. And you keep coughing, desperately trying to excise the foreign flowers blooming in your lungs. But it doesn't stop, you cough until blood comes out, followed with blood soaked flower petals. If you wait too long after that, spores would move on and take root throughout your body. It is both a blessing and a curse. The harm it causes is merely a byproduct. The plants are a miracle, constantly producing a glucose mixture that can keep your cells alive. Electrolytes that cause your muscles to fire at random. A biological immortality, you may rot and wither but your body won't die. Rowan was the first to go, some minor internal hemorrhaging, bruises, bleeding, suffering, pain. Even now his body writhes in agony. Here is the spot where the individual came to an end. It's as if this clearing was fated for this. Maybe it was, I don't know. An internal branch grew building pressure until it finally gave way and pierced his brain. I come here quite often to talk to him. Even if he can't hear me. Juniper was luckier. Relatively speaking. She only had flowers. Emerging from cuts as she got them. Thorny stems. She didn't suffer as much as her brother but she still suffered. We were rather respectful of the Gaianists, and they offered to help her ease the pain if she joined them. In the end it was her choice to go, but I never saw her again. And I never will. She became their Gardeness, a pretty high rank. Though she has become Alraune now. Another plant abomination like the ruinwoods or the great clematis flowers growing on the sky scrapers.”
Cypress stands stunned for far too long at those admissions. “And… you're sure he can't feel that…”
“My mother left a lot of her research to me and I've spent a lot of time looking over them. His brain is damaged and his consciousness is gone. His twitching is just random muscles firing due to the electrolytes…”
“I understand why you tried to get rid of me at first. Why you built up so many walls. I'll stay as long as you'll have me.”
All at once did the huntress’s unwillingly held breath and anxiety evaporate from her body. The inner corners of her eyes moistened before she subtly dried them. “Let's go home then, Cypress. We should get ready to travel to Gaianist territory. While the scent of petrichor lingers in the air, then the golden spores of the ruinwood tree remain stagnant.”
“Finally, I can actually bag one after so long. Trust me, cornel deer are one of the best meats available out here.” The huntress gestures toward the forest around her.
“So how exactly are we supposed to find them? I mean you've been looking nonstop since I moved in…”
“Following the scent of dogwood. It'll bring us right to them.”
“That's what you said every other time… The fuck even is a cornel deer?”
“Odocoileus virginianus | Cornus florida.”
The rat princess goes deapan. “What?”
“It's the combination of two species. A white tailed deer and a dogwood tree. So it wasn't hard to establish a scientific name for it.”
“How does that work? Isn't hanahaki random with its flowers and effects?”
Dahlia hums in confirmation. “In humans. Other animals however tend to have one or two specific traits passed down to its offspring, a long time ago a white tailed deer probably got hanahaki disease and ended up with dogwood flowers and its offspring were born with it already…”
“Wait, what happens if a person has a baby with hanahaki?”
“...”
…
…
…
The green eyed woman abruptly stops in her tracks. “What's that smell? Is that dogwood? It smells really nice and honestly kinda relaxing.”
The huntress sniffs the air “Huh? No that's-” An intense stabbing pain inflames her right shin as she's abruptly awoken in a desolate section of the woods. Looking down she sees that her leg collided with a thorny bush which is easily freed. “Where-” Any semblance of figuring out where and when she was is cut short by the presence of a yellowish vapor in the air, along with a pleasant relaxing smell. Immediately holding her breath and dropping her shoulder bag while rummaging for a respirator as she desperately digs until it can finally be placed over her mouth and nose before taking several quick and shallow breaths. “Shit- It’s so cold…” The huntress begins panicking and sprinting through the trees. The yellow vapor condensing and dripping from trees. Avian and small mammal corpses litter the forest floor around her. “Cypress!” She runs deeper into the vapor cloud. The shadow of her thoughts constantly a black silhouette disappearing before her. The air starts heating up, uncomfortably fast, she must go closer to the source. The temperature is getting unbearably hot. The huntress reaches a small grove, the vapor thinning out. A trail of human shaped forms lay still on the floor, roots and stems growing in and out of their necrotizing flesh, which all lead to the source. A deep red flower whose leathery petals span fifteen meters across. In the center of the large red corpse lily flower is a circular recess with a bubbling yellow liquid. Her steel gray eyes dart between the human shaped forms on the ground. Gaianist, gaianist, gaianist, gaianist, Cypress! She rushes toward the unconscious body of her companion, quickly turning her limp self to the side. Quickly unzipping a specific pouch on the bag, the huntress procures a second respirator and fits it onto the other's face before one again scooping her up into her arms. Just as the blonde turns to leave, the corner of her eye spies an additional human form. “Shit.” An occasional break of the constant rolling boil of the yellow liquid reveals the vague outline of a sleeping woman in the fetal position. She turns her back abruptly toward the flower, feeling the smallest pinprick of liquid attempting to escape her tear ducts. “Keep it together-”
The sound of splashing restarts with a new boil. “Daaahliiiaaa-” The sudden intimately familiar voice emanates its radiant cheerfulness from behind. She freezes in her tracks and her hair stands on end. “-you don't have to try anymore. You don't have to keep it together. It's fine, you deserve rest, you've been trying so hard for so long. Just lay down and take a break.”
“You're dead. This is a hallucination caused by the pollen. Your body is in that rafflesia and not talking to me. There is no scientific basis that suggests that anyone, let alone you would still be alive and able to leave the flower.”
“Do you really think that? It's okay to stay with me, Dahlia. You shouldn't keep running from your past. I'm right here. Just get your well deserved rest. It doesn't matter, you know. You won't be able to protect her, she'll die, just like you weren't able to protect me. Just relax and join me here.” Dahlia swears she saw movement in the back corners of her vision, along with the sickening sense of a person hovering just an inch away from hugging her. “You aren't real. I reject your existence. I'm leaving and I'm taking Cypress. Goodbye, Juniper.” The huntress begins walking. She does not hesitate or stop or question, just walk forward out of the grove, and the yellow vapor.
…
…
…
Cypress’ eyes open to an unfamiliar wooden ceiling, before she abruptly sits up, startling the worried looking woman sitting beside her cot. The rat princess rubs her own temples. “My head hurts… What happened? And… where are we?”
The huntress immediately hugs around the other's neck in relief. “I was worried… I can't stand the thought of not being able to protect you either…” Her voice betrays a somber tone escaping from whichever part of herself she tried to bottle these feelings in.
“Dahlia? I've never seen you like this… are you crying?”
After giving her companion enough time to recollect herself Cypress asks once again. “What happened?”
“...We… entered the realm of the Alraune… More scientifically… The flower at the center is a Rafflesia arnoldii | Homo sapiens. One of the several anthropophagic megaflora, like the ruinwood. The normal flower resembles rotting flesh and produces an odor similar to said rotting corpse in the hope flies will show up, get covered in pollen and hop to another flower of it. This version however… in the corona at the center lies a pool of its liquid based pollen. The normal flower sometimes uses heat to help attract pollinators, so this one uses heat to boil and spread the pollen vapor over a large area. The liquid itself has tranquilizer-like qualities. Breathing it in will force you to relax. It will also cause dulled senses and the feeling of being cold. Which in turn will make you seek the warmth of the flower. It's honestly a miracle I got cut on a thorn, otherwise we'd both be dead by now…”
“When you say Alraune here, you mean… Juniper?”
The huntress gives a shallow nod before the other returns the hug from earlier. The door to the small stick built cabin swings open, revealing a man in red and green robes. “Sister of the woods, we located her bow- Ah- sorry… I'll just- leave it here.
The rat princess is lagging behind the huntress. “Dahlia… we've been walking for hours. Where are we even headed?”
“I told you, it's a surprise. You can rest when we get there.”
The other woman pouts.
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…
The purple-scarlet field consuming the horizon grows larger with each passing step. Cypress's eyes widen. “What is that?!”
“A flower field, we're stopping by two today. This one is amaranth.”
“Aren't flower fields like, really dangerous!?”
“Only if you go in. Some dangerous fauna or some anthropophagic plants would probably get you killed. In fact… look right… there.” The huntress points directly toward violet colored flowers in the sea of reddish purple. “a mandrake; Mandragora officinarum | Homo sapiens, about… 100 feet ahead. Probably the source of this flower field. We'll then.” She unsheathes her machete. “Let's get cutting. Faster we get this done, the faster we go home.”
“What does a mandrake do?”
“If you disturb It in any way, something will trigger it to release a cloud of very toxic pollen that contains histamine and a few other really bad things.”
“And that means?”
“Don't disturb it.”
…
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…
The pair soon proceed further south to another field of flowers. This one however was a sea of yellow. Cypress tilts her head slightly. “What's this one called?”
“Sun flower.”
“Is it cause it looks like the sun?”
“Partially, it's flower actually follows the sun in the sky.”
“Weird.”
After hacking at a few stalks and placing the bundle of flowers in her bag Dahlia’s head perks up instantly at a quiet noise. “Cypress…”
The rat princess looks over to the huntress only to watch the sea of yellow parting. The latter slowly backs her way toward the former. A low growl rattles both women to the core. the final few rows of sunflowers part, revealing the angry looking face of a large predatory animal. A brown colored snout leading the way for the abyss of black fur behind it. It's maw parted, drool drips from between its bare teeth. It growls again. Cypress appears as if she's about to flee, Dahlia moves in front of her. As the beast fully emerges, the pair get a much better view of it. It's right rib area has rotted away, revealing A few sunflowers growing inside, while its fur is inundated with green leaves. The huntress slowly grabs the rifle from her shoulder, before holding it up in an attempt to make herself look bigger. The bear paces while keeping eye contact on the two as they attempt to continue inching backwards. It rears up and roars before beginning to approach them. Dahlia quickly aims and fires directly in front of it, kicking up dirt into its face and making it flinch. The bear growls one more time at the two before they back out of sight and get away. Cypress whisper yells. “What the fuck was that?”
“American black bear.”
“You mean there's more?”
The huntress appears genuinely excited “Cypress!”
“Why are you yelling?”
“Cause it's finally time to cook something good.”
“you're speaking like an undercity dweller.”
“I really don't care.”
The rat princess smirks subtly. “So what are we making?”
“I'm glad you asked. Well, we can use the amaranth to create a flatbread, cook it using the sunflower oil, top with a mixture of that oil, the cheese I got from those soldiers, a few herbs and spices from the corner of my greenhouse, and a few slices of meat from some small game I hunted.” She appears incredibly smug and boastful.
“So how do we start?”
“First we make a dough. We grind The amaranth grain into flour, mix with water, a little sunflower oil, salt, and a small bit of garlic.”
“Okay two questions, one: where did you get salt, two: I've been meaning to ask, how is your water so clean and not taste strongly of metal or whatever that brown chemical they use to treat it.”
“That's an easy one, I get the salt from the ocean that borders the city, and that construction right there for the water. You put water in this drum, it gets run through this filter that removes sediment, and runs through vated charcoal, then into this drum which I made a basic induction coil around it, that heats it up into a vapor, which funnels up and then condenses into a liquid onto the pipe that drips down to this drum, and thus clean water.”
“Where'd you get all this?”
“I used parts from a moonshine distillery. Speaking of- want to drink?”
Cypress gently shakes the other awake. “Dahlia.”
She barely sits up and turns to the woman she's sharing a bed with. “Hmm?”
“Wake up, it's already noon and you're usually up before me.”
“My head hurts.”
“Yeah that typically happens when you get wasted and spend a whole night being clingy and possessive.”
The huntress blushes. “Was I that bad last night?”
“I wouldn't say it was bad but… yeah. And we did wake up in the same bed for once so I'll take that as a win.”
“...what exactly happened…?”
“Like I said, we had dinner, you got drunk, you got clingy, it was cute, we made out for a while, then we went to sleep.”
Dahlia obscures her face with her hands.
Cypress shouts from across the hollow. “Someone's knocking again! It sounds a bit frantic!”
The huntress sprints to the entrance and pulls open the door. A familiar face greets her. “Sister of the forest, it is urgent.”
“Speak, brother Reed.”
“City dwellers are holding our sacred grove at gunpoint, they requested you… by name. I wasn't aware of your familiarity with the president… Regardless, we've shut our mouths for now, if I do not return with you both, they'll burn our bodies so we may not ascend to a higher form, I beg of you.” The priest bows down.
“Raise your head. I know a threat when I've heard one. You aren't asking. You aren't begging. You'll tell them if we don't go.” She sighs. “Cypress, wait here, I'll be home soon.”
“Oi, you think I'm just gonna let you go again?”
“It's not up for debate, it's far too dangerous if-” The huntress is immediately met with Cypress's fist making contact with her abdomen, causing her to double over in pain.
“I think you forget that I'm from the undercity, I have a weapon this time and someone I trust, and I sure as hell ain't gonna let you go alone.”
“Ow… got it…”
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…
The trek to the Gaianist sacred grove was wrought with silence. A government soldier gestures with his rifle. “He's back and he brought the girl.”
The huntress smirks under her respirator, her voice muffled and distorted. “Oh, Mossberg guy, It's good to see you again. Have you actually hit anything with that yet?”
Just as he's about to retort, a hand is placed on his shoulder by the squad leader of their last interaction. “And here I thought letting you go back then was saving me effort, who woulda thought we'd end up meeting again like this, ‘hermit.’”
“Oh please captain, I assure you, I wish we didn't have to meet again like this.”
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…
Probably ten minutes has passed as three women sit in silence glancing between eachother. Dahlia finally breaks the silence. “I'm sick of this. You go out of your way to find me. Threaten other people to do it aswell. Force me to come here. You take all of our weapons and any chance to defend ourselves. So please, let's cut to the chance. What do you want, auntie?”
The president amusedly hums before standing up and walking to the window of her extravagantly decorated office. “Join me over here for a moment.” The huntress acquiesces and joins her at the window. The two look down from the top of the tower of glass and steel. Dahlia gazes down past the giant flower petals, at busy streets, tents and shanty towns, the many orange circular dots sucking in and burning pollen from the air. The older woman continues. “Can't a lady dote over her darling niece?”
“A lady? Where? I only see a soulless reptilian dictator in the shape of one.”
“Oh don't be like that. How's my sister doing?”
“Dead and buried.”
The president actually looks mildly upset. “Oh… I figured as much… Honestly I thought you both had died out there. The world beyond my borders is a cruel place. When I heard a girl matching your description was encountered by one of my squads, I had to uncover the truth. I truly am so happy you survived this long, and let me be the first person to welcome you home.”
“Home? No, this isn't home. My home is in the forest where mother spent the latter half of my life raising me. I am alive today only because of her. No thanks to you, who drove her to these extremes in the first place. She told me you could have prevented my father's death.”
The older woman merely waves away those accusations. “Hardly a reason to do something so drastic, a rat king is still a rat in the end. Small and inconsequential. Speaking of which, I must thank you for returning Miss Cypress, her father has certainly been concerned for her well-being. I will have someone escort you to the undercity promptly.”
The rat princess jumps to her feet. “Fuck you. Eat shit and die. There is no way that's true. Since mom died he can't even look at me. He sold me as a bargaining chip. The moment I leave I'm back on a cart headed north.”
The president rolls her eyes before returning her gaze to her dear niece. “They're always so dramatic, you agree, right dear?”
The one word that can truly emphasize the expression and feelings on and within Dahlia is seething. An unexploded rage built upon the foundation of the other's words. Her aunt scoffs. “Perhaps you've spent far too long in the midst of the forest with the animals for you to be baring your teeth at me like this. See reason, I beg of you. Just imagine tomorrow we announce your return. The leader of this great city and her long lost niece reunited after a decade of being lost in the wild. Your presence has such tremendous value here. You could follow in your late mother's footsteps. We could find you a suitable husband…” She glances toward the rat princess. “Or wife I suppose if that is your preference, from one of the other elite governmental families. You'd never have to survive another day in your life. You should stay now that you've returned home.”
“I'm leaving.”
“What? Elaborate, now.”
“I'm not going to part from my girlfriend. I'm not going to disparage my mother's wishes. And I will certainly not help you of all people, use me to further your goals.”
“You're so similar to her. Yet, what makes you assume that I won't just coerce you to comply?”
“Then I guess I'm going down swinging like a sewer rat. We're leaving.” Dahlia starts walking away and forcefully grabs Cypress's hand and moves toward the door.
The president laces her fingers together before revealing her final card. “We can treat it.”
Dahlia freezes in place with a shiver up her spine before turning her head just enough to spy her aunt out of the corner of her eye. “Speak.”
“Hanahaki disease. Using your mother's research we discovered a way to suppress the symptoms and plant growth. And if it's at the earliest lung blooming phase it's outright curable.”
“How wonderful, you can actually help people. Goodbye.”
“Just consider this deal as being left on the table. If either of you contract it, I'd be happy to get you treated, if you go along with my demands of course.”
Several weeks have passed since President Moser has agreed to not interfere further into her niece's life and thankfully, she seems to be keeping with her demands. Dahlia and Cypress have officially agreed to become a couple and started regularly going to sleep next to each other on the same bed, a far cry from the days of the former taking the couch and the latter getting the bed. As usual the huntress was the first to awaken, slowly having her eyes flutter open at the automatic light turning on, which only caused the rat princess to roll over in bed to face the wall. After smirking to herself the gray eyed woman stretched and left the bed as she did every morning to check off the daily chores. That's when it caught her eye. A color that so ominously threatens her happy life. She picks up the object and inspects it. Her heart drops deep into a pit. A long curled white flower petal stained with crimson.