Le Mère des Champignons

First Confluence (La Première Traversée)

A/N: Hello! I have returned with another chapter! I hope you enjoy!!!

~

TW: PARASITISM AND MENTIONS OF BEING SICK

Skip no. 1: (Parasitism) "He stares at Grian's back..." to "Grian pulls away..."

Skip no. 2: (Parasitism) "'Well,' He continues..." to "I think we've been here..."

Skip no. 3: (Parasitism) "Grian answers bluntly..." to "'About two weeks ago...'"

Skip no. 3: (Sickness) "'...I found some mushrooms that I thought were edible...'" to "Grian pauses to take a breath..."

Skip no. 4: (Parasitism/Sickness) "Grian continues..." to "'Something feels off...'"

~

Soundtrack: "First Confluence" by Austin Wintory

~

The warrior stands in shock as his gaze falls upon his leader. He didn't expect to ever find the short, mycelium-loving hermit again. He had thought that he was the sole survivor of the ambush. However, the blond is there, alive, and fast asleep on the other side of the river that separated the two. He's draped in his red cloak; it's wrapped around him as if it is a blanket. A young mooshroom sleeps beside him, its pattern matching that of the sleeping hermit's cloak beside her. They're both placid, resting easily with dreams as light as feathers. The warrior shifts, instinctively beginning to move toward the river's edge.

Soon enough, he finds himself at the brink of the river, just a few water-logged steps away from Grian. With an inhale, preparing himself for the likely frigid water, he steps into the river, the water coming halfway up his shins. He sloshes across the shallow water, trying to be as silent as possible. The warrior stumbles only once and freezes as he does so, worried that he's woken up his leader. A few anxiety-ridden moments later, he realizes that the hermit is still fast asleep, so he continues his silent trek through the river. Climbing onto the bank, he steps out, soaking wet from the excursion. He glances around him, observing his surroundings.

Just beside Grian is a dead fire, its embers having recently breathed their last. They lay cool and dormant, unable to ever be awakened again.

The warrior smiles, crouching down by the sleeping hermit, waiting for him to wake up. Seeing his leader, his friend , alive and well brought his spirits up. If Grian had survived, perhaps the others too stood a chance.

An hour passes, and the sun is high in the sky. Movement snaps the warrior back to his senses; he had zoned out from waiting so long. Grian is stirring. The shorter hermit sits up, back facing the warrior. He stretches leisurely and turns his tousled blond head down to the mooshroom calf. He whispers comforting words to the little mooshroom, his words like the cooing of a dove. Now was the time for the warrior to make his entrance.

"Grian." He speaks up, his voice low and smooth. Grian jumps, startled by the sound, and whips his head around, meeting the warrior's eyes. The blond hermit's eyes widened with surprise, joy spilling onto his face.

"Etho!" He exclaims, diving into the warrior's arms for a hug.

As the two meet, Etho notices that the blond tenses. He stares at Grian's back, where he notices lichen and other fungi growing. Etho pulls Grian into a deeper hug, as if he was the man's long-lost father. Whatever happened on the island while the two were separated must've been the cause of the strange fungal growths.

Grian pulls away from the hug.

"I thought that you were dead..." He mumbles, looking away from the white-haired hermit. "I found your campsite; it was completely abandoned! I also found this..." He stuck out his left arm, decorated with colourful fabric headbands. Each one used to belong to the hermits that had given their lives for the Principle. What stuck out to Etho was a forest-green strip of fabric that resided at the top of the row. It belonged to him.