#noori

Sen was back at the mossy ravine, catching up with Con and Wilbur as had become his habit.

"I've noticed more springtails lately!", chirped Wilbur, rummaging through the leaf litter and sending a swarm of the tiny bugs hopping away. "Really remarkable, they got all the way out here without being able to fly! They're so light they can be blown on the wind!"

"No, they float on the sea," argued Con, Wilbur rolling his eyes in response. "No, seriously, they repel water."

Sen dangled his legs over the edge of a bracket fungus and listened contentedly. Compared to those representing larger trees, moss and fern fairies concerned themselves less with wide-scale, climatic processes in favour of cultivating an intimate knowledge of the stone and soil beneath their feet. Sen often found their discourse hard to follow, verging on nonsensical, but it was refreshing to listen to a different point of view.

Sen stood and made his excuses, Con and Wilbur waving him off. Before he could take flight, he heard his name called.

"Oh! Mister… Theodore Kaupa? What is it?"

"Just thought you might want to know," the liverwort fairy drawled, "those ginkgos you left here? They're close to blooming."

"Ai?? That's fantastic! I'll be able to cross-pollinate them!" Sen hustled over to Theo and they flew a quick circuit of the treetops so he could inspect them.

"Let me know as soon as they've matured, will you?", Sen pressed.

"Sure thing. Been meaning to check out that fort you guys set up."

Sen thanked Theodore and took his leave. Although the various bryophyte sprites he'd met in the gorge had gone their separate ways, the place had come to serve as a focal point. Con was reliably found there and always accommodated visitors, so fairies tired by their exploits or looking to catch up on gossip dropped in like clockwork. Sen hadn't quite got a handle on all their names, but a few were distinctive among them. Viktor Kaledon, flightless and with a taste for bugs, Yuval Bakalin, permanently smiling like he was up to no good, and Elmer Florakis, tall and colourful, stuck out from the rest, but the other names blurred together after a while.

Sen shook his head. He could reacquaint with the hornworts later. For now, he was on a mission.

The tremors that were a regular feature of the island's south side were waning in frequency and intensity. Tectonic activity was grinding further out to sea, forcing up yet more land, while the lava fields left behind were stabilising. Sen, Si-woo and Askarya could take much of the credit for how quickly life had carpeted the sterile landscape, but they weren't the only actors in this unfolding drama. The moss fairies, as ever, had been quick off the mark, and the liverworts and ferns followed close behind. And above all, the forces of wind and water worked their weariless weathering.

No longer at serious risk of volcanism, Sen had settled on this spot as prime territory for planting the first ginkgo fruits to be conceived in this land. Flying low and slow, catching the warm updrafts, he surveyed the tuffaceous landscape. The soil already looked deep in places, surprisingly so. Sen wasn't sure how it had already built up to such an extent with such a sparse cover of vegetation. He folded his wings and touched down on the springy turf.

A strange smell met his nose. Like the ashen graveyard of a forest fire, when herbs and ferns had replaced the devastation, but the fire's mark remained beneath. Uneasy, he escaped back to the sky and continued south.

It wasn't long before the ground cover changed. Sen had been expecting it to dwindle, but the opposite seemed true, the plants growing larger and lusher as he neared the lava fields. Baffled, he made another landing. The verdant fields he'd observed from above, on closer inspection, were something of a façade. Although huge ferns lay as far as the eye could see, they were the only plants around. No moss, no horsetails. Just ferns growing from cooled lava. Too late, Sen realised why this felt so familiar.

"Well well. Gongsun Sen, wasn't it? Always a pleasure."

"Sir Umber," ventured Sen. Sir? He had no idea where that came out of. But if it suited any fairy, it was Osmund. At any rate, a warm but rather intense smile lit up the fern grower's face.

"I wasn't expecting a visit," he jested, and while Sen flailed for something to explain his presence, Osmund continued, "I've been busy, as you may espy."

Sen kept his composure easy and detached, while scrambling to put the pieces together in his head. Osmund had effectively monopolised this marginal habitat, sustaining a remarkable density of plants beyond the reach of any competition. But the lava fields were just that, marginal. Soon they'd be overtaken by more diverse plant communities from inland.

Unless something stopped them.

Before Sen could fully consider the implications of this scenario, Osmund stepped close. It should have been uncomfortably close, but his proximity was embarrassingly welcome. His skin smelled faintly of cinnamon.

"You're not content to stay out here with nothing but bare rock to live on," Sen stated. He hoped he at least sounded confident.

"Very perceptive." Osmund's voice was practically a purr. "Follow me."

He launched without looking back. Sen dithered back and forth, then threw caution to the wind and followed.

Osmund brought him to a windswept spire of obsidian, rising like a black dorsal fin above the chaparral. There they perched, and the fern fairy drew the exquisite rapier he kept at his waist. Shaped from a single, magically hardened rhizome, it had a hilt like blown glass and a blade so sharp it practically disappeared. Sen watched, mesmerised, as Osmund struck neat lines in the dark stone.

He tapped a little triangle he'd carved with the sword's tip.

"That represents this crag."

Sen craned his neck, then nodded excitedly as the etchings resolved themselves as a map.

"I'm here," Osmund continued. "You came from that direction… and this stretch, between, is as yet unclaimed."

"The land belongs to us all." Sen kept his voice neutral.

"Don't be naïve." Osmund was unfazed. "You know as well as I do that incumbency comes with certain privileges. Everyone seeks to bolster their own position, openly or covertly. It is the natural way of things."

Sen opened his mouth, found himself without a response, and closed it again.

A conspiratorial note crept into Osmund's voice.

"You yourself have plans to extend your reach into this place, do you not?"

Sen squirmed.

"Alright, that's different, trees take much longer to grow and ferns can disperse on the wind so-"

"So I should just be passive?" Osmund cut him off without batting an eye. "Let the whims of the world decide my fate? I don't think so. You may believe that promulgating ferns is somehow easier than bringing a forest to fruition, but let me tell you now, it is not."

He cleared his throat.

"Make no mistake, I have no enmity with you, Gongsun. You are doing the same as I. In fact, I believe we can help one another."

Sen put his hands in his sleeves, sceptical.

"Really? How so?"

"Knowledge is power, as you're aware. And soon, there will be nothing that happens on this island without me knowing about it."

Sen moved closer despite himself, hanging on Osmund's next words.

"I'll keep you in my circle. We'll be the most powerful fairies this side of Epiphyllia. Any challenge can be anticipated, any opportunity taken."

Sen's heart was nearly beating out of his chest, his tongue felt as though it were moving through treacle.

"... What would you ask in return?"

"Not much," answered Osmund, eyes glinting. "Just that you leave a bit of space for me."

"Surrender this territory, you mean."

"Not entirely. Just thin your trees to, how about, one every mansus?"

"Five every mansus," Sen gambled. Osmund's nose wrinkled in displeasure.

"One."

Transpiration beaded on Sen's brow.

"Three?"

"Two and that's my final offer," sighed Osmund.

"You have yourself a deal!"

⸙ ⸙ ⸙

Sen ran the conversation through his head countless times on the flight home. He and Osmund had quickly hashed out an agreement of what constituted the limits of the unclaimed land, and after shaking hands on the agreement, Osmund had surprised him with a sudden turn of generosity. He'd remarked on Sen's tattered robes, then brought him to a nest he'd built under the ferns and produced a newly woven, sumptuous silk ensemble. Sen had tried to refuse, but Osmund wouldn't hear it, and before he could process what had happened, the ginkgo fairy was flying home dressed in the most stunning outfit he'd ever worn.

His whirling thoughts settled down as the scenery became familiar. Up ahead was the fort, Aliwen and Gawain laughing as they propped up a platform together. With its mixture of living plants and easily dismantled timber, the structure continued to reconfigure and adapt to its surroundings.

Sen landed up in the high rafters, where the Pioneers were having lunch.

"Afternoon, gentlemen," he remarked, getting a chorus of "Howdy" in reply.

"Have you seen Si-woo?"

"Out, I think," Jake mused, chewing slowly.

"Askarya?"

"Went on some fungal business with Glen and Noori."

Sen thanked them, keenly aware of three pairs of eyes scrutinising his clothes, though without comment.

He opened his wings and parachuted down from the light and airy apex to the recesses of the fort. Its main room, originally the sleeping area, had steadily shifted into a spot for preparing food, trading resources and catching up on gossip, earning its title as the exchange hall.

Settling on the wooden floor, fragrant with dew, pollen and resin, he greeted Ponnarasu and headed to the food stores. Picking up a little wooden cup crafted from a seed pod, he stepped outside and filled it with dew from a swaying ginkgo leaf. Sitting and sipping, his thoughts returned to Osmund.

Away from the fern fairy's smothering personality, Sen was able to consider their deal more critically. He didn't trust Osmund, that much he knew. But he had no evidence of him doing anything reprehensible. He was an aggressive expansionist, yes, but he'd made the perfectly valid point that it was the driving aspiration of all fairies to ensure the survival of their plants. And themselves in the process.

Si-woo materialised from thin air as was his wont, diving, folding his wings and landing all in the same smooth manoeuvre. Sen flinched as his train of thought went runaway, then chastised himself for startling so easily.

"Heok, someone's looking fine today!"

Si-woo examined the hem of Sen's sleeve between two deft fingers.

"Tell me, Hubae, what have you been up to?"

Sen sat up primly.

"I was just on my way to tell you, in fact. I… I met someone."

Si-woo's face betrayed no emotion, but he listened intently.

"I'd flown out south to the lava fields, they're rapidly being colonised by mosses and ferns. And there's someone there. Sir Osmund Umber."

Si-woo's eyebrows rose in slow recognition.

"You know him?", Sen asked quickly.

"Name rings a bell. I met him… a few times, I think, long ago, though we were never close. So what happened?"

Sen twirled one of the ginkgo petioles that composed his tresses round a finger.

"Well… he was very magnanimous. I was scouting out somewhere to plant my ginkgos, and it turned out he already had designs on that area. But we made an arrangement, and I'll still get to cultivate some there!"

"Let me get this straight. He blocked you from land that, by all rights, is yours, granted you a small concession and you're thanking him for it?"

"No, hang on, let me finish," protested Sen. "His offer for ceding the land was information. He knows a lot and he's willing to share, provided he gets something in return. He… gave me some good pointers on where others are extending their range, and if some ecosystem space suitable for my ginkgos opens up, he'll let me know. He's a scoundrel, that much is true, but a brute he is not. He was most genteel when speaking and listened to what I had to say. He doesn't beat around the bush, he's impeccably presented and he smells really nice, I don't know how to put it, kind of spicy? And yes, he gifted me these robes, entirely of his own volition."

An expression Sen had never seen settled on Si-woo's face.

"Dude."

"What?", fretted Sen.

"DUDE. You have the fattest crush I have seen in all my many ages!"

Si-woo's weird expression grew and grew until his face was nearly splitting open in silent laughter.

"Aiyoo?! I do not have a crush on that- that fiend! He's venal and I'm not interested in him, it's merely a settlement of mutual interest! What put the idea in your head??"

"Nobody talks about a trading partner that way! He "smells nice"???," gawked Si-woo. "Gongsun, I say this with the greatest respect, get your ass down south and ask this guy out before this golden opportunity passes you by."

"But-"

"No buts! Oh my souls, where's Askarya?"

Si-woo was gone in a wingbeat.