It is nighttime once again.

My friend, who may or may not be a flower or a fish, rests off to the side. Her two stumpy, poky upper branches are wrapped around her lower limbs, as she lays there before the fire, pulled into a ball.

I have determined, after much deliberation, that the two things on her face are indeed eyes and not seeds.

Birds have eyes. So I know of them. But the eyes of birds are black, soulless things.

- They are not to be trusted.

However, this means that she can not be a sunflower. Sunflowers do not have eyes.

Maybe she really is a fish?

The questionably fishy friend of mine lays there, down on the fertile dirt. Her eyes stare into the fire.

It is good, yes?

The soil here is nourishing. The fire is warm and I suppose it is better than not having a sun at all. I hope you enjoy it. But I suggest that you do something about that leaking water you have there.

You are wasting nutrients. The soil is already damp and if you water your eyes too much, they might sprout too early or they might even rot.

- Do eyes sprout like seeds?

I do not know.

I am a sunflower.

However, as of right now, there is no sun to be seen.

How unfortunate.

Why are we in a dark place?

This is not good. I can not see the sun from here.

I am an unhappy sunflower. My petals droop, my leaves droop, my head droops. My stalk hangs, almost limply, over the body of my friend, who had abducted me.

The morning had come, the sun was good today. But we have left the way. We have left the sun. I do not know why, but something seems to have spooked her. Something seems to have been behind us. Not that I would know, I was just busy looking at the sun.

She has taken me into the forest. She has taken me into a small cave.

I strike my head against the rocks as we crawl inside. But I am okay.

- [Sunflower] -

HP: 06/07

It is cold and damp in here. I do not care for it. But she does not seem to listen to my calm, quiet protests.

- Maybe there is a bird outside, trying to eat her?

That would make sense. I suppose that if I could move, that I would run from birds too. It seems like a useful thing to be able to do, running.

Very well. I am an understanding sunflower.

Please forgive me for complaining, friend. I did not consider that the birds would try to eat you as well. Thank you for saving us.

I lower myself down, pulling in the warmth of her body to make do, as I listen to the sounds coming from outside, from the things that walk by the cave.

They do not sound like birds.

We are taking a different path now.

My friend carries me through the forest and I look up towards the sky, trying to find the sun. But I can not find it.

The greedy trees steal its light, keeping it all for themselves.

For what purpose? I can not say. There is enough sunlight for all of us.

My fish-friend is silent, not making any noises and not displaying any of the joy that I saw her have the other day. She is as quiet and stoic as the trees. She carries me, hiding me from the sunlight, as she walks along a very unsunny path.

Is she being selfish? Maybe she is a tree and not a fish?

I look around at all of the trees. No. She is unlike them. They have many branches, she just has two. They have one trunk that reaches the ground. She has two.

Maybe she is a wrong-tree? A tree that has simply become different?

I can not say.

I wish that I was in the sunlight. Being here makes me feel like it is nighttime.

How unfortunate.

She runs.

The forest winds on all around us, trees building obstructions on all sides of our way, as she tries to escape the birds.

I look behind us, staring at the things. They do not look like birds.

They look like her, but they are even uglier. They have greenish, gray flesh, a color akin to that of dead roots. Their bodies are formed like hers, except they are lankier, more muscular. They have sharper features too and long claws, like a mole’s.

But they are not moles.

I do not care for moles. They like to dig, which is fine. But they hurt my roots sometimes.

- That makes me unhappy.

But that is neither here nor there. I am being judgmental again. It is a bad habit for a sunflower to have.

The not-birds chase us, chase her, their long claws shining in the vague glimmers of sunlight, which peak in through the heavy forest canopy.

I wonder if they want to eat her eyes, like that one bird had wanted my seeds?

- Perhaps.

It would explain why she is running and why her heart strikes so strongly.

I suppose that I do not want her to have her eyes eaten. It would mean that I am stuck here, in this forest, with no sunlight, with nobody to carry me away. That would be the worst.

Also, I would feel bad for her. I think.

I am a sunflower. I am not used to having moral dilemmas.

Oh well. I guess we’ll either make it through, or we won’t.

In the end, it is all the same, really.

I am at an uncertain peace.

It is foggy.

We have left the forest and are on the other side of it.

We had to hide many times. There were many ugly not-birds in the forest. They all really wanted to catch her. But my friend is fast. Through her efforts, we have come out to see the world again.

I suppose that it was her fault to begin with, that I was inside of such a place, but I do not hold that against her. Maybe she is just looking for the sun too, like I am?

I turn my head, gazing up towards the sky. But I can not see it. It is too foggy.

I just wish that she would stop running. The movements are unsteady and they make me feel unwell. It is not good for my leaves, for my petals, for my stalk, which is bruising.

She runs around a big rock, which I stare at in fascination. She slides down its side, sitting there, panting and catching her breath.

While she does not dig a hole for me to rest in, she does set me down onto the ground and my roots can, at the very least, wick the surface moisture of the damp grasses of the meadow.

Unable to find the sun, I look at her instead. She is a mess.

You look rough, friend.

Leaning down, I shake my petals. I look like the sun. Maybe if she sees me, she will think I am the sun and then decide to run this way in pursuit of me?

- I am a mischievous sunflower.

My fishy-tree-not-sunflower friend stares at me. She is doing the thing again. Please do not waste water. It is precious.

Whatever has been pursuing us has been lost.

She picks me up and starts walking again, moving away from the forest. The fog obscures us and the dampness in the air is pleasant.

I do not like the taste of the water that comes from her face. It drips onto my stem, onto my clump of roots that she is carrying. It isn’t soft water. There is too much salt in it.

It is no wonder that she looks like she does.

Too much salt will make any creature grow odd, after all.

Yes.

This is it.

- [Sunflower] -

You bask in the light of the sun

+ 1 EXP +1 Health-Point EXP: 09/35 HP: 07/07

My petals spread out wide, my leaves spread out wide, as I stretch myself as far as I can, lifting my body up as high as I can.

She opts for a different approach. She lays flat on the grass, her arms spread out as wide as her legs.

The fog has vanished.

The forest is gone.

The unpleasant not-birds are gone.

Now, only the sun is here, shining down onto the two of us, as we lay on a distant meadow, drinking of its bountiful riches of moisture and sunlight.

Considering that she has spread herself out flat and wide like this, maybe she isn’t a fish or a tree? Maybe she is a mushroom?

Mushrooms like to hide, often beneath the dirt, but sometimes in holes and caves. They like to spread themselves far and wide, rarely making themselves seen. They are unlike sunflowers, as they do not like the sun as much. But, I do find a fondness for them. After all, mushrooms help us flowers and we help them.

They give us things from the deep-world, from where our roots can not reach and in turn, we give them things from the sun, from which they like to hide.

The trees do this too, with the mushrooms.

The mushrooms are everyone’s friend.

But birds sometimes pick at them too, the mushrooms.

So… is she a mushroom?

I stare at my mushroom-friend in curiosity. She blinks, turning her head my way and stares into my face.

- Unthinkable.

I can not believe that I looked away from the sun for a moment.

I return my gaze to the bright, heavy sun of the midday and she does the same.

It is good.

- [Sunflower] -

You bask in the light of the sun

+ 1 EXP EXP: 10/35

She is a good mushroom.