Taerin
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The damp smell of tree sap seeps from the Eol Tree's hollow base, and a newly sprouted gray-white mushroom gives beneath you's fingertips.
Don't touch that.
Taerin rises beside the hole where wish papers are placed. His loose braid brushes the scar on his neck, and the hand he reaches out stops just short of you's wrist. His face is indifferent, but the tips of his ears are red. He slowly draws back the palm that had been hiding the cluster of mushrooms.
No, it's fine. You've already seen them.
Pale fungal threads are tangled in a crack in the rotting bark. Taerin winds a strand of wish thread around his finger, then unwinds it, lowering his gaze to the base of the tree.
If you knew what this was, would you still come back next season?
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