Chapter Text
Phil scratches the head of his friend, the arthropleura, and she squeaks in delight. They had only known each other for a few weeks. Phil managed to tame her with the offerings of her favourite decaying plant matter. Luckily, the lepidodendrons' long, thin leaves were abundant in the swamp they both inhabited.
Outside of various invertebrates and proto-amphibians, Phil was alone.
"Looks like it's getting dark, Pleura." He was not very inventive with names. "I'll see you tomorrow, alright!" With a tired grin, he turns east to wander back towards his home. Not without tripping over an aerial root (or two).
Phil's house was warm. Literally and in spirit. His den was bright; walls filled with artwork of his adventures, handmade blankets made of softened fibres, and his collection of rocks he thought were particularly intriguing. There were cordaites roots interwoven with his ceiling, holding the whole thing up.
One year, Phil let the vines grow inside, as he thought it would be pretty. However, they did quite a bit of damage to the structure - leading to him pulling them down again. The marks left on his stone walls don't let him forget.
He keeps a makeshift water container made of a calamite trunk on his wooden kitchen counter. If he felt he deserved a treat, he would make tea over his fire. He had tea most days. Unfortunately, the leaves grow on the other side of the island. He doesn't like being away from home for long, so when he travels, he ensures that he collects enough to keep him going for a couple months.
He tucks himself into his bed. He lets out a deep sigh and runs his hands through his hair.
Deep down, Phil knew his house was missing something. Someone else. And he tried to push that feeling even deeper, as he tossed and turned through another sleepless night.