Sycena listened carefully to the words of the human as she continued to tell her of rumors about the Albin who supposedly had a way out of the dilemma. “Word is that they have an artifact called an eye or an ord with which to make a defense against the invasion. But also that they are looking for another artifact, a root of some sorts.” Sycenas attention was raised, roots sounded like something she was interested in. She and all her people. Many wondered where they had come from, floral people themselves as well as others. “But those are rumors, they probably aren’t even true.” Hanna smirked, hoping they were true, as the circle either had no idea how to fend off the impending invasion, or the circle left the majority of its members in the dark.   Outside Fethomus’ hut was a small bench of stone, well within earshot of the fire at the village center. Nicodia listened carefully to the two women converse, as her father tried to keep her in the dark about the outside world. Some of the young growth of the village had developed an interest in the world and abandoned the village shortly after the fungal guards retreat. Fethomus feared his daughter might as well. “that is at least the legend of the sandtree. Whether it truly is our origin, I don’t know, but that is how the legend has it.” Sycena sighed, she and Hanna knew that they had an audience. “I will soon depart, other villages might have loved ones they want looked after in case they wound up in the fungal guards camps.” Hanna prepared her bag as pillow and her cape as blanket, right where she had sat, much to the surprise of Sycena. Reluctantly she laid down too. “You will leave us after the sun has risen?” “Yes, though this is an island, it’s vast and I don’t have much help.”   Sycena raised her head into the changing wind. The steady northward breeze turned with the winds from the west. “Summer will arrive soon. The wind is changing.” she stated dryly, watching a firefly in the distance.   Nicodia sighed softly, after the voices had stayed silent for some time. Careful as to not nake a sound she got up from the bench. Her mind was set, the world her father had to offr was to small, she wanted more, as the others who had left the village. Gusts of wind brought only the fresh nightly smell of the forest, the grasses and flowers, blooms and mosses, even the bonds, creeks and rivers. Faintly the last breezes from the south carry a dry note of sand and sun, mixing with tbe western breezes of the sea, salt and watervapor carrying smells of Seaweed, ships, sailors of Man and Albin, cargo and imprisoned fungal guards. Nicodia watched the wind carry off a leaf that had been torn from where it grew.