Jeremiah stared at the hovering pane of light, the words stark against the green-gold meadow. His thumb twitched at his side, and for a moment, he weighed every path that spread out from this choice.

He could walk away. Leave the flock alive and unbothered, and be safer for it. He could pretend he hadn't seen the prompt at all. Yet the reward dangled like a hook in deep water. A breeding license was no small thing; few could get one without months of red tape and a mountain of credit.

But the knot in his gut insisted it wasn't just about the prize. He'd not only asked the Wilds for beasts that could meet his needs, but ones that needed to be found. This was what the Wilds had answered with.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, reached out, and tapped [Yes].

Hazel cocked her head, ears pricking forward. Mischief tugged at her grin, though a glint of approval warmed her eyes. "Oh? Up for the challenge then?"

Jeremiah pressed his lips into a line, gaze sweeping the meadow's edge. That was the question, wasn't it? Nets, bait, traps — a dozen strategies flashed through his mind, only to unravel before they had shape. Most would mean buying specialized tools from the System's store. Tempting, but premature. If the beetles had taught him anything, it was that there was power in making do, in learning to work with what was already in his hands.

He adjusted the strap of his satchel and let his gaze roam the meadow again. "I'm… working on it," he said at last.

Hazel smirked, teeth flashing. "That's… comforting."

"Better than running in blind," Jeremiah shot back, though the words had more bark than bite. He crouched, fingers brushing the moss, grounding himself. Billy hovered close, a quiet pulse of concern thrumming down their bond.

The truth was simple, if maddening.

This place is here for a reason, Jeremiah thought to himself. He knew that now. The Wilds weren't random — they were responsive. Their path here wasn't a coincidence. If his "why" had carried them to this place, then whatever the Wilds wanted him to do here had to already be in reach. He just needed to search and piece the clues together.

So that's what he did.

He shifted along the treeline, slow and careful, each stop letting him see a new angle of the meadow. He watched how the males clustered, how they scattered when a female drifted too near, how the berry bushes bowed under hungry flocks. Twice he nearly lost himself in the scenery — copper leaves shimmering like coin against the infinite sky-drop — but discipline dragged him back.

It was at the meadow's far corner that movement pricked his attention. A knot of white-bodied males had gathered, not at berries but around a raw patch of earth. Jeremiah's brows pinched. From cover, he tracked them as they scraped together dry stems and brittle grass, tugging windfallen branches into a loose heap. They fussed over it with surprising diligence until at last one lifted its head and gave a sharp, piping call.

A shadow fell over the circle.

Jeremiah's pulse kicked as a female descended, crimson feathers shimmering, tail spreading like a fan as she landed atop the pile. For a heartbeat, she only stood there, gaze flicking over the assembled males. Then, with a whip-like snap of her tail, the tip caught fire.

Flame roared through the brush with a hungry whuff, smoke unraveling in gray ribbons that curled toward the open sky. Jeremiah flinched despite himself, heat prickling across his cheek even from the shelter of the treeline. The males didn't scatter. They lingered, bright-eyed and restless, as if waiting for the fire to finish its work. Only when the last branch sagged into ember and ash did they move.

One after another, the gathered males dropped into the glowing heap, wings half-spread, rolling and thrashing with manic glee. Ash plumed skyward with each beat, sparks flickering like fireflies.

Then Jeremiah saw them. As the males danced in the ash and embers, crawling shapes, minute but countless, shook loose from feathers and skin. Tiny red mites tumbled into the ash, writhing only for a heartbeat before the ash swallowed them whole.

"It's a dust bath," Jeremiah murmured, more to himself than Hazel.

Behind him, Hazel made a low, questioning sound, half curiosity, half surprise.

Jeremiah kept his eyes on the flurry of wings. "Most birds use sand or dust to clean themselves," he said quietly. "It scrubs away excess oils, knocks loose broken feathers, and even dislodges parasites. But this —" he gestured toward the Candlewicks rolling in the embers, "— takes it a step further. Ash carries natural antifungal and antiparasitic properties. Some birds back home even steal charcoal from grills for the same reason. And with fresh ash, the heat and smoke make it all the more effective."

Jeremiah caught Hazel staring at him with unblinking eyes from the corner of his vision. He turned to her. "What?" he asked, his cheeks flushing.

Hazel only grinned. "Oh, nothing. Don't mind me, continue."

Jeremiah narrowed his eyes and frowned, but after a moment, rolled his eyes and turned back to the 'bathing' birds.

"Something's not right…" Jeremiah muttered, the words little more than a breath, but heavy enough that Hazel's ears twitched toward him.

She pushed up on her elbows, still perched on her branch, golden eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"

He shook his head, gaze fixed on the Candlewicks still rolling in the ash. The movements were almost frantic now, feathers puffed and wings flaring wide as if they couldn't scrub fast enough. His stomach turned the longer he watched. Tiny, writhing flecks shook free like rain, far too many for comfort.

Hazel tilted her head, catching the unease in his expression. "What are you seeing that I'm not?"

Jeremiah's jaw worked, words dragging like stones over his tongue. "There's too many parasites."

Hazel blinked, one ear canting in skepticism. "Too many?"

"Healthy birds pick up mites all the time," he said, voice low, measured. "But not like this. You'll see a few, maybe a scattering if they've gone too long without a bath. Not…" He gestured toward the writhing cloud of crimson specks in the embers. "This."

Her tail flicked lazily, the corners of her mouth curling in a hint of doubt. "So maybe they're just a dirty bunch."

Jeremiah narrowed his eyes. "No. The only time you see something like this is if the bird is already too sick to clean itself properly. Or when…"

Jeremiah's face paled, color draining as realization clamped down. He pushed upright from his crouch, breath shallow, eyes flicking across the meadow. More smoldering heaps stood like faint scars in the grass, each ringed with pale wings beating smoke and ash into the air. At least a dozen of them. Maybe more.

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His heart sank straight through his gut. His voice hardened, flat and heavy as iron. "There's an infestation."

Hazel finally sat up fully, tail giving a sharp lash. "Infestation?"

He didn't answer at once, striding instead to the nearest berry bush that pressed close to the treeline. The sweet-tart scent was stronger here, cloying. Clusters of fruit dangled from the branches, little red crescents like bananas pressed down to acorn size, their skin slick with morning dew. He reached out, plucked one free, and rolled it between his fingers. The berry itself looked fine — plump, unblemished, no obvious rot.

He called up the System with a flick of intent.

——————❇——————

Cocktail Bush

Rank: F

Quality: Rare

Keywords: Natural Treasure, Berry, Psionic, Ingredient

Description:

A rare Natural Treasure found in bright, open forests with mild climates. The Cocktail Bush produces clusters of sweet, jewel-bright berries renowned for their subtle psionic properties. When eaten, the berries soothe tension, instill a gentle sense of calm, and brighten the consumer's mood.

Though not chemically addictive, these natural mood enhancers are highly sought after. Wild beasts, flocks, and even intelligent species have been known to guard these bushes with surprising ferocity.

Effects:

Safe for consumption by most lifeforms.

Slightly improves the consumer's mood, reducing stress.

When fed to a Bond, grants +1 BP, up to a maximum of 5 BP per day, scaling with the Bond's body size, biology, and the number of berries consumed.

——————❇——————

The text lingered on the edge of his vision, but even before it finished rendering, unease nagged at the base of his skull. He shoved his hand deeper into the foliage, running fingers along branch and leaf, searching for whatever he'd missed.

The bush seemed to shiver at his touch.

Then the surface crawled.

A rain of tiny red mites tumbled free, scattering across his knuckles and wrist. Jeremiah yanked his hand back with a hiss, shaking it hard until the specks flung loose. He wiped furiously at his sleeve, scrubbing the clinging shapes into the rough weave of his uniform until nothing moved.

Hazel's nose wrinkled as she leaned down for a better look. "Huh. That's… unpleasant."

Jeremiah didn't answer. He straightened slowly, stone-faced now, and let his eyes sweep across the meadow. Berry bush after berry bush bowed heavy with fruit, every one of them a potential hive crawling beneath its leaves.

The knot in his gut drew tighter. If the parasites had spread through the flock and the food source both, this wasn't just a problem of birds with itchy feathers. This was the whole meadow, tainted from root to wing.

His lips pressed into a hard line. "It's everywhere."

——————————————————

The fire snapped and hissed as the resin-heavy wood settled, sparks climbing into the night like fireflies before winking out in the dark. The smell of roasting berries cut through the smoke, sweet and faintly tart, their skins blistering where the heat licked them. Jeremiah sat with his knees drawn close, a shallow pan balanced on a flat stone above the flames. He plucked one of the fruits free with his fingertips, blew across its steaming surface, and tossed it into his mouth.

Juice burst across his tongue — sweet, bright, with just a kiss of smokiness. He chewed once, twice, grinning despite himself. "They really are good," he said around the mouthful. "As long as you make sure there's no mites on them."

Hazel, draped across the roots of a nearby cedar like a lazy cat, cracked one golden eye open and smirked. "Appetizing."

Jeremiah only snorted and reached for another, but the motion slowed halfway. His grin faded, head angling to the side. For a long heartbeat, he was still, eyes gone distant, listening to something in the distance. Or rather, the lack of something.

He shut the pan with a practiced flick, slid the rest of the berries into a small tin, and tucked it into his satchel. By the time he rose, Billy was already stirring, bobbing in his bubble with a groggy ripple of light. Jeremiah touched the kraken's dome gently, the faintest apology bleeding through their bond.

Hazel sat up, her tail flicking against the roots. "Time to start?"

Jeremiah gave a single nod.

The fire was stamped out, left to smolder, and together they slipped into the dark. The forest held its breath around them, shadows layered deep, each step muffled against loam and moss. Stars burned through the canopy in fractured glimpses — a scatter of light between twisting boughs. Billy drifted near Jeremiah's shoulder, the glow of his bubble faint but steady, a will-o'-the-wisp threading through blackness.

The trees thinned without warning, and the world opened again.

Jeremiah drew to a halt at the meadow's edge, breath caught in his chest. If the place had been striking under sunlight, it was spellbinding now. The meadow rolled out beneath a dome of stars so thick they seemed to drip from the heavens, mirrored faintly in the dark sheen of berry leaves. The colossal tree loomed at the far hill, its copper foliage turned to molten gold under the starlight, branches tangled high into infinity. The endless drop beyond the hill shimmered faintly, the sky itself curving down into impossible blue-black void.

Hazel whistled low, eyes wide, ears flicking forward. "Well. That's a view worth coming back for."

She tilted her head and turned to him. "So? What's the plan, Law Boy?"

Jeremiah's lips twitched. He dug into his pocket and pulled free a small bundle of folded slips. He fanned them out, the inked symbols faintly pulsing with dull gray light, like embers refusing to die.

—✦—

Ashen Blessing

Rank: F

Keywords: Cleansing, Protection, Minor Healing

Description: "A Matron's nest is always kept free from blight and pest alike."

Summon the Matron's protective aura. Use this talisman to create a wave of fine, silvery ash that settles over up to a five-meter radius. The ash purifies the area, neutralizing toxins, pest infestations, and most minor diseases or fungal growths affecting plants, animals, or exposed wounds. For one hour after activation, creatures within the circle enjoy increased resistance to disease and minor poisons. Wounds and injuries heal slightly faster in the treated area. This talisman is affected by environmental factors such as rain or wind.

Uses: 2

Requirements: Open air equal to or greater than five meters; the effect is weaker in heavy rain.

Cost: 20

—✦—

The paper was soft to the touch, but it smelled faintly of char — of hearth smoke, old incense, and something mineral, like scorched stone after rain. Each sigil was drawn in careful black strokes, threaded with veins of silvery ash that caught even the faintest light. The calligram itself depicted a matron nestled snuggly in a bed of ash.

Thoughtfully, Jeremiah turned one between his fingers, the glow faint against his skin. He wasn't sure if the Wilds had led him to the Ferrospark Matron, knowing these would be needed here, or if it was the Candlewicks that drew him because he'd had what they needed. Either way, he wasn't about to question it too deeply.

Jeremiah crouched, laying the talismans across his palm like cards. "I'm going to use to these to cover the meadow. With any luck, the talisman's magic will be able to deal with the mites."

Hazel's tail flicked. "And the wait till nightfall?"

He glanced at the meadow, at the quiet flock hidden in branches and nests. "The infestation's put them on edge. During the day, they'd spot us in seconds. At night, most will be roosting. Less chance of an aerial torch party chasing us down."

Hazel chuckled, "Less? Good to know you're not so arrogant… yet." She plucked several talismans from his hand. "I'll take the western half."

Jeremiah blinked in surprise. "You're going to help?" he asked.

Hazel smirked. "Unlike some people, I have a bit more wiggle room with what I can or can't help with. Something like this? No problem at all."

Jeremiah stared at her in silence for a moment before nodding. "Western half then," he confirmed.

A small nudge pressed against his shoulder. He turned to find Billy, wide-eyed now, his gaze flicking between Jeremiah and the glowing slips. The bond pulsed — eagerness, bright and warm, a desire to help.

Jeremiah frowned, finding himself once more caught off guard. It didn't take a genius — or a telepathic bond — to understand what the tiny kraken was asking. But if Jeremiah was honest, the thought hadn't even crossed his mind. Could Billy even use the talismans? But the kraken's gaze held steady, hopeful.

The frown bent into a smirk. "Well… what better way to find out than to try?"

He slid several slips into Billy's bubble. They floated like pale leaves on a pond, circling the kraken as he pulsed with visible excitement. The bubble shimmered brighter for a heartbeat, the sigils answering faintly as Billy brushed the talismans with a tentacle.

Jeremiah's smirk widened. "Looks like you're in, buddy. You take the inner meadow. Flight'll give you the best reach."

Billy bobbed once, tendrils twitching against the inside of the dome in what could only be called glee.

Hazel rolled her shoulders, grin sharp with anticipation. "Guess that makes us a proper flock."

"Let's hope we don't get roasted like one," Jeremiah muttered, tucking his own share of talismans into his satchel. He cast one last look across the meadow, the flock sleeping in the branches, the copper leaves whispering under starlight.

Then he drew a slow breath, lifted a hand, and gestured for them to move.

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