The tiny Coreless’ hiss was surprisingly good. At least, when compared to the constant failures of the-female-who-was-not-Needle to communicate. I could almost hear the warning in it; like an infant warning a bad-thing from its nest - not particularly effective, but understandable.

From my place on the-female-who-was-not-Needle’s shoulder, I leaned closer, adding my hiss to her own. Now that I could actually see the threat, no longer needing to direct my disciple towards the lost Coreless, I paired the sound with a thought-hiss. The nearest bits of plant-flesh thrust itself forward, each bit forcibly grown and then sent into battle all at once. Behind us, the forest itself stretched forward in a great slither, time-stream after time-stream - all of the forest’s potential growth - stripped away and put towards a new purpose. A tangle of plant-flesh threw itself upwards around the tiny Coreless, hemming her in - and blocking the still-approaching bad-thing.

The creature whipped at the new growth with its odd teeth-covered tendrils, but it wasn’t enough; not with me around. Not while I was paying attention. It couldn’t have been enough.

The bad-thing was just a bad-thing, and I had long since grown too strong to struggle against something so…small.

The-female-who-was-not-Needle leaned down, wrapping her arms around the small Coreless and murmuring her [concern]. I gave a hiss as well; to my surprise, the little Coreless responded in kind.

It wasn’t bad, even if the sobbing made it a little…shaky. I could forgive that mistake. In some ways, it made the hiss better. More genuine; more understandable. Not that I really needed to understand it. The tiny Coreless’ [Little Guardian’s Totem] was more than enough. I had already felt the [FEAR] that spurred me to action, the [GRIEF] that had flowed over it, and the [HATE] that followed. Just like I could feel the [relief] and [awe] filling their place as each of those started to fade away.

“You came,” she hissed quietly, eyes wide and dripping fluid. “You found me.”

I hissed back - and, behind the Coreless, the bad-thing’s body was ripped into pieces in a twist of plant-flesh. The little Coreless didn’t even notice.

She was already falling asleep, eyes heavy and drooping. Not-Needle caught her before she could fall, lifting the sleeping Coreless into her arms.

“She must’ve been pretty drained,” not-Needle murmured in [sympathy]. “Let’s hope the rest aren’t so tired; I can’t carry that many kids at once.”

The-female-who-was-not-Needle turned to meet my eyes and the [sympathy] morphed, shifting instead to a mix of [curiosity] and [expectation]. I gave the bad-thing’s corpse a quick glance before deciding against eating it. For now, at least. A quick thought-hiss caused plant-flesh to wrap around it, hiding it away and saving the remains for later.

I needed to finish what I had started first.

With a flash of light, I pointed the-female-who-was-not-Needle towards the closest [Little Guardian’s Totem] that I could sense. It, like many of the others within the forest - though none approached anywhere near what the sleeping Coreless in not-Needle’s arms had felt - was filled with a strange [dread].

Unfortunately, I couldn’t check what was going on and direct not-Needle towards them at the same time. But they were in the forest; if there was anything dangerous, my spore-puppets should protect them.

Though that made the strange [dread] all the more confusing.

I bit down into the-female-who-was-not-Needle’s neck, sending another rush of [Life - Vigor] through her veins, joining the few drops that I had given to help us reach the now-sleeping Coreless in time.

Just in case. None of the Coreless could be lost. Not here. Not now. The forest of plant-flesh was supposed to be safe, to be a display of the Great Core’s might for all of the Coreless to see. One that had been working perfectly. In a way, it felt like I could physically feel the Coreless’ devotion growing, just barely, each time the forest grew further. Or maybe that was just my pride, flooding my flesh and pushing at the edges of my scales.

It was a familiar sensation, though I couldn’t quite place it. For the moment, I put that aside. Whatever it was, I knew that it wasn’t something bad - and there was something potentially bad happening nearby that I needed to focus on. The strange [dread] of the tiny Coreless.

As the-female-who-was-not-Needle dashed past plant-flesh with a speed that I could never hope to match, I couldn’t help but ask myself:

What could they possibly be so scared of?

Valera was more than a little worried about the future of Orken. Sure, it seemed like every new generation had that thought at some point; it was one of the signs of getting older, she was sure. Like wrinkles or graying hair, worrying that the generation that followed you was going to be civilization’s doom was basically a rite of passage.

Valera didn’t have the first two yet, but she was definitely getting worried about the third. For ten different reasons, nine of which were ambling behind her while the tenth rested in her arms. And that was ten more reasons than she was comfortable having.

Still, at least all of those little reasons were safe and sound, even if they had tried so hard not to be. They didn’t seem to realize just how badly things could have gone in any other circumstance. How badly things would have gone for one of them, if the Little Guardian hadn’t noticed what was happening. Maybe the constant protection of the Guardian Statue was making Orken’s next generation a little more…reckless.

Almost stupidly so. Not that Valera had any room to talk; she had participated in more than her fair share of stupidity in her days. An incident involving Doran and a cup of null-water came to mind, among others.

But still, at least all of her early stupidity had been within the safety of the city itself. The little gremlins behind her had gone much further than that. Didn’t even seem to realize how dangerous it had been, either. They were just so sure that they would be safe.

Though, Valera had to admit, it seemed like they were right.

Sort of.

They did end up safe, even if that was only because the Little Guardian made sure of it, using his illusions to alert Valera of the danger and sending her in the direction of the little gremlins time and time again. They were surprisingly hidden; with bodies so small, it was easy for them to nestle beneath the forests’ unnaturally cooperative leaves, resting in the shadows below them - or even sometimes simply letting the foliage wrap around them in a remarkably gentle hug. Their heavy breathing tended to give them away, though.

And the giggles, which tended to happen every time she loudly expressed her inability to find them.

Another set of giggles trailed after the thought, real rather than a memory, and Valera glanced backwards. The idiots - because they were idiots, and Valera was trying very hard to be mad at them despite their occasional cuteness - were playing with the Little Guardian as they walked behind her, stepping through the forest hand-in-hand. The tiny snake was winding his way across the bridges that their arm formed, occasionally flicking out a tongue as he passed by a wide-eyed face.

Valera most notably did not smile at the sight.

Because they were supposed to be in trouble for acting so recklessly, and she was an adult. One who could definitely lay down the law when needed.

Definitely.

And so, with her teeth bared in an expression that was most definitely not a smile, Valera finally brought the gaggle of idiot gremlins to the banks of the null-water. It looked different than it had only a few days before; the dock, once surrounded by empty air, was completely hidden by the vegetation that surrounded it. It was only once she got closer that it became visible, a hidden clearing appearing at the null-water’s edge, its boundaries lined by dangerous-looking plants covered in sharp spines that Valera knew could be sent flying like arrows from a bow. It brought to mind an outpost, almost, if she ignored the fact that it wasn’t even manned.

It was planted.

Valera silently congratulated herself for the pun, and made a mental note to try it with Doran later. He hated puns so much, always acting like they physically pained him. Which was obviously the point. Puns were just pain in spoken form, and that was what made them so great.

Just as she finished the thought, she noted a boat sliding into the dock, a furious woman standing upon it. Her arms were crossed, and her foot was tapping hard enough to make the boat she was standing on bob back and forth in a tiny spray of null-water.

In her arms, the sleeping girl started to rouse, one hand coming up to rub at heavy-lidded eyes.

“...Miss Triss?” she murmured, half asleep. Then, all at once, she jerked in place. Valera nearly dropped her, tightening her hold at the last second.

“Miss Triss!” the girl shouted, horrified. Behind her, the distracted children suddenly stopped laughing, sounds of joy turning into terrified gasps.

For some reason, the idiots behind her seemed to think that was the scariest part of their day.