The Astralaceaes

Chapter 27: Chilling Returns

"See," Gazeas snapped as she touched Haledon's head and pressed it back against the floor. "Your companion plant is right there. Now stop squirming."

"Witch-Hazel," Haledon spoke softly as he struggled against the thicket. "Thank you...I—"

"Hey, I know." They waved their hand in reply before rubbing at their face. "I mean, I'm as fresh as a spring sprig, so that's a bit strange—"

"But how?"

"I was in my bramble clone—like you should have been." They reached down and poked at Haledon's forehead. "But even at that, it seems the attack triggered my oath."

Witch-Hazel squat down beside him, showing off their appearance before continuing. Their face had slimmed and appeared more humanoid without the extra layers of bark covering them. Their mouths and brows moved more freely as they spoke, needing less foliage to represent the expressions. It was as though Witch-Hazel had transformed into a younger, less overgrown version of their previous self.

"So that means I was regenerated and lost my weathered good looks, thank you very much." They laced their last few words with sarcasm.

"What would have happened if you hadn't been in a clone?"

"I signed up for the long-game and won't rest until we've purged every Mecharrion from our galaxy. So, as long as there's organic material to regenerate me, Mecharrion tech can only slow me down."

"But what if you're not killed and stuck out in space like I was?"

Witch-Hazel's face grew solemn as they pondered the idea.

"Well, I guess I would be a frozen stick adrift in an endless sea for eternity and finally able to get some rest then."

They laughed as they stood and walked away. Haledon heard the chitinous iris at the tail of the Gravodonata open. He began to struggle more against his restraints.

"No, wait, help me—"

"No," Gazeas interrupted, pushing her hand against Haledon's forehead again. "You need to rest."

"Honestly, I'm fine—the chills are even gone."

"But you barely radiate any heat. I'm not letting you go until I have at least a basic understanding of your ecosystem changes."

"It was Birchbark."

"The hallucination?"

"The Astralaceaes. Birchbark is the Astra."

Gazeas lifted her hand and looked into Haledon's eyes. She inspected his face closely.

"Still no sign of concussion, so you truly believe Birchbark is our home?"

"I know they are."

"They?" She asked.

"Well, what we called it really isn't an it, is it?"

"That was unnecessarily redundant."

"Redundancies are fundamental to the success of a system." Sparrow interrupted as she stepped through the tail. "Principle eight of Permanent Druidic Culture is to integrate rather than segregate. Build redundancies into systems for better—"

"Sparrow!" Haledon yelled out as she came into view. "Sparrow, Birchbark is the Astralaceaes."

"Interesting," She hummed to herself, seemingly unphased. "How have you come to this conclusion?"

"They approached me while I was in space. Birchbark spoke and diversified my SOIL."

Sparrow looked at the thicket holding Haledon in place. Her eyes darted wildly as though she was navigating the gaps between the twisting vines to stare at his armour.