Burch and I sit in the boat.

The swamp chorus, consisting of singing frogs and buzzing dragonflies, is accompanied by the splashing that my friend makes as she paddles us along.

I like dragonflies.

They eat little gnats and such things, which would otherwise nibble on my petals.

We have been rowing through the swampy waters for a while now.

Burch navigates us towards the left, as the river diverges into two paths.

- I recall her hesitation the last time we were faced with a fork in our way. It was on the road, before we harvested the dried meat from the carts of the others.

This time, she does not hesitate. Like a bird, flying home for the season, my friend intrinsically knows which way paradise lies.

As for the witch and her cat, there is little to say. I suppose that we are allowed to borrow her boat.

It is just another oddity of life. I find it best not to worry about these things, after all. Why would the specifics of the circumstances of our situation matter?

They don’t.

What matters is this moment, here, now, in and of itself.

I spread my petals and leaves out wide, basking in the sunshine, which leaks through the swampland trees, pressing down onto us as we journey.

- [Sunflower] -

You bask in the light of the sun

+ 1 EXP

EXP: 282/450

Water splashes behind us, as fish dance in the tepid brine of the river, following in our wake.

It is good.

I am a moist sunflower.

We journey for a day.

My friend hisses and fusses about the many bugs of the swamp. They dart and fly around her, pestering her as they search for warm, nourishing places to live.

- Perhaps I should attract some spiders?

(Sunflower) has activated: [Floral Resonance]

I am sure that the swamp has a lot of spiders.

Swamps are slow, sleepy, tepid places.

- At least for an outside observer.

But for those who pay attention, they will see that this is actually one of the most abundant ecosystems there is. The water, the soil, even the air itself is full of life, both tangible and intangible.

Swamps are old places. But they are also places of birth. The warm, damp environment is ideal for many different types of creatures to foster and shelter their young.

Burch looks my way, having noticed my word-wood.

It has come to my attention, as she stares at me, that we have not spoken to another in days. She might speak to the water, or to the insects to fuss at either of them.

- But for me, she has not spared a word in a time.

Are you outgrowing me, Burch?

That would be very sad.

Do friends outgrow each other?

Like chicks leaving a nest, perhaps eventually there must simply be a time of separation?

If this happens amongst kin of a shared brood, then does this happen to kin of separate broods?

I suppose that it must.

Ah.

How sad.

Perhaps I am simply mistaken, however.

- [Sunflower] -

You bask in the light of the sun

+ 1 EXP

EXP: 285/450

I have been mistaken very often before, after all.

Burch turns back towards the horizon and keeps paddling.

Haha.

Skittering spiders scoot along the embankment of the stagnant river.

The trees move, their crowns blowing and bowing, as if a wind were pushing through the swamp. But that is just because of the weight of the spiders.

They are hard to see, as they are adapt at hiding in the dark foliage and wood here.

But they are there.

Their thousands and thousands of shiny, silken strings, which they leave in their way as they follow us, betray their presence. The strings of their webs glisten and glitter in the evening glow of a day, coming to an end.

I think that is enough, for now.

(Sunflower) has deactivated: [Floral Resonance]

What a spectacle.

Burch and I watch as the swarm stops and then scatters off into all manner of directions.

They set up many thousands of webs and eat a feast of insects, keeping us free from them for a time.

- [Sunflower] -

You bask in the light of the sun

+ 1 EXP

EXP: 288/450

We float along the sleepy river until night falls.

We have traveled across the great-water.

We have traveled across the great-desert.

Now, we have traveled across the great-swamp.

There are so many places in the world, large and grand in their scales. One could spend a full life-time in any one of them and this also includes the more minor places where we have been, like the city, or the grotto, or the dry wild-lands.

But we, my friend Burch and I, would rather spend our days traveling and seeing a little of all of them.

- After all, what can these places be, in comparison to paradise?

Nothing.

We leave, floating out of a channel and reach an embankment of sand. It is free of trees and overgrowth and swamp-muck.

Burch grabs me and hoists me onto her shoulders and we step off of the boat.

She ties it to the shore, wrapping its rope around the branch of a tree.

- Despite us having traveled for days, when we turn around to gaze one final time back into the swamp, there, in the midst of our vision, stands a house atop the water.

Inside of the house, sits a witchy woman and on her lap, sits a cat.

Burch waves.

The cat waves back.

I wave too.

It is good.

Life is fun.

We leave the strange, magical swamp and continue on our journey towards paradise.

The glow of our fire illuminates the warm, gentle night in which we find ourselves.

The smell of salt is in the air.

The sand, dense, beneath us is hot and carries with it the lingering residue of the dayglow.

To our side, water crashes and cascades in a repetitive fashion, striking against the shoreline.

It is much unlike the great-water that we had crossed, so long ago.

Here, the air, the ground, and the water are salty. The wind and the vast body of blue are both aggressive in their presence, both constantly roaring in and out.

- I never knew that there could be so much salt in one place.

This means that I have to stay inside of the rucksack.

I find this somewhat bothersome. But my hope for tomorrow keeps me going.

Burch lays next to me, huddled up into a ball. A large fire blazes on the sands, separating us from the water.

Thankfully, the west is not across the water.

I do not know what we would do, if it was.

She sleeps.

But I stay awake, facing the east in anticipation of a new sun to come.

Lifting my head, I gaze at the thousands of stars, which fill the night sky.

I listen to the water.

I listen to the fire.

I listen to the sounds of the night.

And I listen to my friend’s troubled dreams, as she fidgets and twitches in her sleep.

Turning back, I look at Burch.

She reminds me of a rabbit, haunted by the shadow of a hawk.

The world is such a fascinating place.

I never knew that there were so many things to be afraid of. There are so many things that would hunt us and eat us. The world itself would swallow us whole, if the desert or the swamp had managed to subdue our passions and efforts.

- But they have not and we continue to persist.

I wrap my roots around Burch.

It does little to keep her warm, as I am not a particularly warm creature to begin with.

But she does fight less than before, given my binds that tether her, and there is one sound less in the night.

It remains dark.

We have awoken before the sun today.

Burch gasps in quiet awe, ducking down. We were wandering along the shoreline.

There, beneath the light of a full-moon, departing to its sleep, a creature lays. It flops around on the sands, as it lays its eggs.

- A turtle.

I have never seen a turtle before, so I am not sure how I know what it is. But that is life.

We watch as it bears its young to the world and then as it buries them, with its strange, floppy appendages, a moment later.

I am surprised that my friend does not take her opportunity to strike and eat the creature, while it is in a vulnerable state.

Instead, we watch and wait.

The turtle finishes and then slowly retreats back into the ocean.

Burch runs up towards the spot, digging up the sand and the cluster of soft, pliant eggs.

- They are still warm.

Of the eight that I count, she takes four.

The rest, she buries gently back beneath the sands.

Burch, returning to her snake-like mannerisms, eats the first egg raw, as we continue to journey towards paradise.

How interesting.

It seems that my friend has indeed begun to change.

It might have been wise to eat all eight of the eggs now, to ensure her own thriving.

But that would mean that the Burch of the future would have four fewer turtles to eat on that hungry day, should it arrive.

After a time, we take a break, stepping away from the shoreline and back to the denser ground, where she plants me down, allowing me to drink and nourish myself as well.

My roots dig and burrow into the soil and I speak to the plants and to the worms and to the mycelium of the many mushrooms, whose kind spans the world from this side, all the way around to the other.

And they all tell me that a great mass of bodies is moving our way.

A swarm, with more feet than a horde of spiders and more teeth than the biggest fish in the entire world continues on towards us, over the desert, over the swamp.

- I look at my friend, Burch, who is watching the beautiful sun rise in the distance, holding her last two eggs.

I wonder how I should tell her that the hobgoblins have pursued us all the way across the world and that they are almost here?

Burch turns around. “Here,” she says, speaking to me for the first time in days. “I don’t know if you like this stuff, but… I think it’s good for you?” she guesses and squishes an egg, soaking the soil around a clump of my roots. She turns back towards the sunrise and eats her last egg. “It’s really been a long way, huh?” she asks, having found her talkative side again. “I think this was the worst of it. It was really scary for a while, but…” She leans back, holding her hands behind her head as she lays down on her back and stares up at me, instead of at the sun. “- I think that things are going to be better from here on out,” says Burch, smiling in a warm way that I have not seen her smile in a long time.

And I realize that the crimson sunset, bringing with itself many rays of love and warmth and hope, have given her this false promise and rekindled a tiny light in her eyes.

I never knew that the sun could be so cruel.

Oh, Burch.

What I wouldn’t give to have a mouth. If I did, I could tell you, as your best friend, who cares about you very deeply, one, single, thing.

- There are only going to be scary times from here on out.