Soft winds graced the thick vegetation from the sea, gently rustling green leaves whispered tales of spring. Heavy clouds of sweet smells, risen from blossoms and flowers, danced, invisible to the eye, in the gusts, crossing the kind clearings of the dense forest. Wandering and dispersing in the process, mixing with the smells of different blossoms, or the moldy odors of the dark forest. “Smells like spring!” smiling, with her nose in the wind, a young woman with bright green hair and fair skin turned to her father. “It sure does.” he returned her smile but then stopped his activity, slowly he put down the hark and walked over to her. In spring and summer he and his people used photosynthesis but in fall and winter they needed food to sustain themselves. Food they hunted or grew in spring and summer. “Do you smell that moldy note?” once again she put her nose into the air. “Yes.” “It is stronger than usual.” he whispered, looking in the direction the south eastern winds came from. “Run home.” he whispered, sending her in the direction the wind blew in, slowly he returned to his tool, he didn’t trust the winds, or rather the smell they carried. Too recent was the memory of the fungal guards invasion, their genocide on nales and enslavement of females. And too strong was his readiness to fight. Concealed under his simple clothing he felt the reassuring presence of the dagger and the three throwing knives, holding his hark so he could quickly grab the needed weapon he continued working for a few moments, intending to return home too after having fooled any fungal guards that might still roam the vicinity. Footsteps, paired with clattering weapons approached. “Fair day!” he greeted the Albin group. In the midst of the twelve people was a group of halfa dozen fungal warriors, wearing the insignia of the fungalguards. Obviosly captives. “Fair day.” the leading priestess returned the greeting. “We are escorting these to the port of Both’maihm, they have been spying on our settlement in Naga’na.” she added noticing the curious gaze of the floral farmer. He didn’t like any of the strangers tbat had encroached on the island nation lately, all of them were solely interested in the nectar, although both Albin and Humans pursued their need for it via trade, as opposed to the fungal guard’s slavery. “Good to know the guards are being apprehended where ever they tread.” he sighed with a hint if relief, but also the desire to take out his weapons and strike at the hated fungal warriors. “What happens to them once they left the harbour?” he hoped to hear that they wouldn’t leave it alive, but was slightly disappointed to learn they were brought to an internment camp the Albin had erected with human allies and representatives from the  fungal high command. Little did he care for internal fungal quarrel, the fact meant little to him, that the fungal guards were remnants of the old fungus guard who desired to reawaken the giant subterranean fungus, in direct contrast to the majority of the fungal people who enjoyed their lives as free people. Although there was an ambassador of the high command at Both’maihm he couldn’t imagine seeing any of the fungus people as anything but an enemy. “We must part ways here.” the priestess smiled while wishing him again a fair day. All the while he had walked with the convoy he was submerged in thought, unable to keep up the conversation with the Albin who had arrived on Both’anah with a supply ship from the south, so they had to cross the island nation.

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