Midnight watched Eglann look over the whelps he had been charged with today.  The other two whelps stood nearby, Ember fidgeting and Bastor winking when he caught her eye.  She was new here, she and Ember staying a time in Tsidal to learn more about L’Hatzif.  It was weird to be in this place, the ground squishy underfoot and plants and mushrooms closing overhead.  It wasn’t home, but the colonists here were friendly.  The silence stretched a bit longer as Eglann looked at them.  Creatures called from the undergrowth.  No, he wasn’t looking at them.  His eyes were unfocused, lost in thought.  Bastor cleared his throat, and Eglann stood up a little straighter.  “Right!” he said.  “Time to be off.”

Without further comment he turned and began to walk, disappearing almost immediately into ferns.  Midnight scrambled to catch up, followed by Ember.  Bastor took the rear, seemingly unconcerned by the adult’s disappearance.  Today’s trip was meant to be a learning experience for the younger members, teaching the colonists from Mireh about the different plants that could be found in L’Hatzif.  Bastor had volunteered to come along simply because he’d had nothing else to do, and wanted to help Midnight and Ember feel at ease.

The three whelps found Eglann on the far side of the fern patch, standing near a purple-red vine that trailed up a tree.  Ember bounded up to the plant, leaning forward to sniff it, but Eglann put his tail out.  “Don’t touch it,” he warned.

Ember paused, wide-eyed.  “Why not?” he asked.

Eglann waited for the other two whelps to settle in around him.  “It’s got a fun defensive measure,” he said, and pinched a long stick between two claws.  With it, he tapped the vine.  Midnight gasped as spikes flashed out of pinprick holes, protecting the plant where it had been touched.  Bastor nodded his head.  “It’s easy enough to spot, so be careful to avoid it.  The wounds caused by the spines get infected easily.”  Eglann concluded the demonstration by putting down the stick and walking off once more.  Ember and Midnight gave the vine a wide berth as they followed, but Bastor seemed unconcerned as he passed it by.

The next part of the trip took a while as Eglann cast about, unable to find what he was looking for.  At times he distractedly pointed out some flower or bush, commenting, “Poisonous,” or “Tasty,” as they walked by, but the hunt for whatever he wanted kept him busy.  Bastor picked one of these flowers and presented it to Ember, who smiled and passed it along to Midnight.  She placed it on his head, a vibrant blue counterpoint to the orange heartfire on his face.

Ahead came a shout of “Aha!” and the whelps hurried after the voice.  Eglann stood next to a rock he held propped off the ground, something white veined in the dirt beneath it.  “This is bluecap mycelium!” he said, ears twitching in excitement.  “It’s a sign that the ground is fertile here, which means either really tasty fruit is nearby, or really dangerous plants!”

Bastor shook his head, huffing a laugh.  Midnight spoke up.  “Which is it?  Dangerous plants?  Or tasty fruit?”

“Or both!”  Eglann supplied, letting the rock drop and turning around.  Ember tensed, ready to run after him again, but Eglann just looked about.  “Seems like….tasty fruit!” he announced, raising a claw to one of the nearby trees.  Long, slim red fruit hung from the branches, its skin smooth and shiny.  “It’ll be hard to reach it, though.  Ember, if you stand on my shoulders, and Midnight, if you stand on his, we’ll be able to get it.  It’s very tasty, I promise.”

Bastor shook his head again but the two tsabhua eagerly lined up to enact the plan.  They made an exceptionally wobbly tower, even with Ember reaching up to try and steady Midnight’s forelegs.  It was a good thing he’d shed his baby mantle the year before, or she’d be in greater danger of slipping.  Eglann, fortunately, made a steady base to the stack.  Midnight plucked the fruit, letting them drop where Bastor could collect them.  Once she’d gathered all she could reach, Eglann announced they were done, and the two whelps barely avoided falling as they hopped off.  Bastor was already munching on one of the red fruits, delicately peeling away the greenish meat from a solid, hollow center.  The tsabhua eagerly picked up fruits of their own, while Eglann set to counting how many they’d gathered.  After he’d finished eating his, Bastor snapped the central piece in half, showing Ember and Midnight the seeds attached to the inside.  “When the plants are past ripe, they dry up and the seeds rattle around inside.  It’s very fun, at least until the pod pops itself open,” he told them.  The other two whelps nodded in wonder.

After a moment of quiet munching, Eglann had them gather the fruit into their arms.  They had not brought packs with them, and he surveyed Midnight and Ember’s nearly overflowing arms.  “Seems we’ll have to cut our trip short for the day,” he announced.  The tsabhua flared their nostrils to complain, but Eglann held up a claw.  “We got a wonderful bounty,” he said.  “It’s well worth it.”  The two kept quiet, but Ember’s ears were still pinned back.  He clearly wanted to explore more.

Still, he followed Eglann when the belemoid picked out their path home.  It was a different route from their way out, and they saw new things.  Eglann pointed out some herbs, a plant with round, tangy leaves.  They couldn’t gather any, but the whelps sniffed at it appreciatively.  Further on was a glowing mushroom, which Bastor picked and smeared on Midnight’s forehead, giving her a glowing patch of orange.  She laughed.  Rubbing most of it off on a tree, they carried on.  Sunlight filtered through the trees, and while it wasn’t yet visible, the sounds of Tsidal were audible through the undergrowth.  Bastor bounded ahead, eager to announce what they had gathered, while Eglann held aside branches and ferns so Ember and Midnight wouldn’t have to.  This place was still a strange one to be in, but at least they had tasty fruit!