As dawn approached, Pacificus found himself stirring, as he always did, well before the first light touched the world. His keen senses had him awake and alert, even before he fully registered the warmth of Merina's form nestled against him. Her breathing was soft and rhythmic, a gentle rise and fall that spoke of deep, peaceful slumber. He felt a lingering warmth in his chest as he recalled the night they had shared—moments of passion and tenderness that bound them even closer.
Careful not to wake her, Pacificus gently slipped his arm from beneath Merina, his movements slow and deliberate. He pulled a fur blanket over her, tucking it around her bare shoulders to keep the chill at bay. In the dim light of the tree hollow, her features were soft and serene, the faintest smile still gracing her lips as she slept.
With a quiet sigh, Pacificus rose to his feet, stretching out the stiffness in his limbs. He approached the entrance of the hollow, his eyes narrowing as he peered into the darkness beyond. To his surprise, it was still night—pitch black, with the moon hidden behind a blanket of thick clouds. The rain had lessened but not stopped, and the swollen floodwaters still lapped against the roots of the ancient trees, creating a steady, rhythmic sound that blended with the distant, unsettling noises of the forest.
He turned his attention to their supplies, quickly assessing what they had left. They had enough to last them through the week, but Pacificus knew that Merina would need a hearty breakfast after the night they had shared. With that in mind, he decided to venture outside. He was accustomed to moving through the darkness, his senses finely attuned to the world around him in ways that went beyond mere sight.
As he stepped out of the hollow, the darkness seemed to wrap around him like a living thing. The trees loomed high above, their vast canopies obscuring what little light might have filtered down. The air was thick with the scent of wet earth and moss, tinged with the sharp, metallic smell of decaying leaves carried by the floodwaters. Every sound was amplified in the dark— the steady drip of water from the leaves above, the faint rustle of creatures moving through the underbrush, and the distant croaks and calls of nocturnal beasts that echoed through the forest.
Pacificus moved silently, his steps careful and deliberate. He relied on his hearing, the subtle shifts in the air, and his deep familiarity with the Ever Resting Forest to guide him. The forest was alive with activity, but it was a world he understood—one where he knew the difference between the harmless rustle of a small animal and the stealthy approach of a predator. His ears picked up the low, guttural calls of the giant frogs still lingering near the flooded waters, their deep voices a constant reminder of their presence. Farther off, he could hear the heavy, deliberate footfalls of larger creatures—perhaps another moss turtle or even a Bell Beast, though he knew they posed no immediate threat as long as he kept his distance.
Each sound painted a picture in his mind, allowing him to navigate the forest with ease.
As Pacificus stood in the dim light of the Ever Resting Forest, the faint sound of bells reached his ears—a haunting, melodic chime that pierced through the darkness. A smile formed on his lips, recognizing the source of the eerie sound. The bells signaled the presence of the Bell Beasts, scavengers of the forest, and he was drawn to them with a calm familiarity.
With practiced ease, he leaped from one colossal root to another, his movements fluid and precise. The forest around him was alive with the sound of rushing floodwaters, a guide that directed him where to place his steps. The air was thick with moisture, and the scent of rain-soaked earth mingled with the foul stench of decay as he drew closer to his destination.
When he arrived, the scene that greeted him would have sent shivers down the spine of any ordinary person. The Bell Beasts were gathered around a large, decaying log, their red eyes glowing like embers in the dark. The stench of death and rot was overwhelming, a nauseating mixture of decomposing wood and organic matter. Their bells rang out, creating an unnerving symphony that echoed through the trees.
Pacificus, however, was unfazed. He approached the beasts with an air of nonchalance, his senses attuned to their behavior. Their grotesque forms were massive and ungainly, with dark, matted fur that clung to their skeletal frames. As he walked among them, one of the beasts turned its head, its gaping maw opening to reveal jagged, rotting teeth. It nibbled at his arm, but quickly released him when it realized he was not part of the decaying feast it sought.
Ignoring the creature's half-hearted attempt, Pacificus focused on his true purpose. He was after the bell flowers that grew on the Bell Beasts, their delicate petals swaying with each movement of the creatures, releasing a gentle chime. With careful precision, he drew his dagger and cut away the flowers, collecting them in his hand. The flowers were a deep, inky black, their petals smooth and glossy, and they emitted a soft ringing with each slight movement, like tiny bells in the night.
Satisfied with his harvest, Pacificus turned his attention to the decaying log that the beasts were voraciously consuming. He knelt beside it, braving the overwhelming stench as he plunged his hands into the rotten wood. His fingers sifted through the damp, decaying matter, feeling for the hidden treasures he knew lay within. The wood was soft and spongy, teeming with life—maggots and beetles scurried beneath the surface, their movements imperceptible to all but the most sensitive touch.
His hand brushed against something large and slimy, a gooey mass that clung to his fingers with a wet, sticky sensation. With a swift motion, he grabbed hold of it, pulling out a massive beetle larvae, its pale body glistening with a thick, greenish slime. The creature was grotesque, with a bony head capped by sharp mandibles and three pairs of spindly legs that twitched in the cool air. Its body was segmented, each section pulsing as it wriggled in his grasp.
Undeterred, Pacificus continued to dig through the decaying wood, extracting more of the larvae and, finally, uncovering a cluster of giant mushrooms. These fungi were massive, their caps a deep, earthy brown with specks of yellow and white. The mushrooms were firm and dense, their thick stems almost as wide as his wrist.
With his finds in hand, Pacificus made his way back to the hollow tree. The journey back was as quiet as when he left, the sounds of the forest continuing their strange chorus. When he returned to the hollow, he found Merina awake, brushing Torrent’s mane as the fire crackled and burned brighter, casting a warm, comforting glow throughout their shelter.
"Oh, Pacy," she said, her voice soft and welcoming. "You're back. What did you bring th—" Her words caught in her throat as she caught sight of what he was holding, her face paling visibly. "What is that?"
Pacificus looked down at his collection with a calm smile. "Oh, these?" he said, holding up the black leaves that resembled vines. Each movement made them ring softly, the sound delicate and eerie. "These are bell plants that I gathered from the Bell Beasts."
He then held up the large, writhing larvae, its green goo sticking to his hands as it wiggled in the air. "This is a beetle larvae," he explained, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Finally, he presented the giant mushrooms, their earthy scent mingling with the pungent odor of the larvae. "And these are giant mushrooms. I thought they might come in handy."
Merina’s eyes widened as she looked at the bizarre collection.
As soon as Pacificus returned, he wasted no time in beginning the process of cooking. The fire crackled as he placed the giant mushrooms and other ingredients nearby, preparing to make use of his unusual finds. His movements were swift and practiced, each action carried out with the efficiency of someone well-versed in the art of survival.
Meanwhile, Merina's attention was drawn to the massive beetle larvae. They lay on the ground, their pale, segmented bodies glistening with the thick green goo that oozed from their forms. Each larva was as thick as her hand, their bony heads capped with sharp mandibles that twitched with residual life. But it wasn’t the grotesque appearance of the creatures that captivated her—it was the strange, sticky substance that seeped from their bodies.
Driven by curiosity, Merina reached for a stick, her fingers wrapping around the smooth wood as she hesitated for just a moment before touching it to the goo. As the stick made contact with the substance, she noticed that it wasn’t just any ordinary secretion. The goo had an unusual texture, stretching in thin, shimmering strands that clung to the stick like a delicate web.
Her eyes widened in realization as she lifted the stick, watching as the green goo stretched and solidified into a fine thread. It was silk—strong, flexible, and lustrous, with a soft sheen that caught the light of the fire. She gently tugged at the thread, feeling its resilience as it resisted breaking. This was no ordinary silk; it was something special, something rare and valuable.
Merina’s heart raced with excitement. As a tailor, she had worked with various materials, but this—this was unlike anything she had ever encountered. The silk was thick and durable, yet light and pliable, the perfect material for creating something extraordinary. The thought of weaving this into her work, of turning it into something beautiful and unique, filled her with a sense of wonder and possibility.
She continued to carefully collect the silk, her hands moving with delicate precision as she drew more of the substance from the larvae. Each strand was a treasure, a gift from the strange and unsettling creatures that Pacificus had brought back. The forest, with all its dangers and mysteries, had once again revealed a hidden gem, and Merina couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe at the unexpected discovery.
With each strand of silk she gathered, her excitement grew, her mind already racing with ideas of what she could create. The forest had given her more than just a chance for survival—it had given her inspiration.
As Pacificus meticulously cut the wild vegetables and bell leaves, his knife gliding through the crisp onions and plump tomatoes with practiced ease, he caught sight of Merina out of the corner of his eye. She was seated a little distance away, her focus entirely on the larvae he had brought back. In her hand was a stick, which she was carefully spinning, and as she did, the goo from the larvae was being drawn into long, green strands.
Intrigued, Pacificus paused in his work, wiping his hands on a cloth before calling out to her. “Rina?” he asked, his tone curious but gentle. “What are you doing?”
Merina looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with excitement. A smile spread across her face, one that Pacificus knew well—it was the smile she wore when she had stumbled upon something truly remarkable. “Pacy,” she began, her voice filled with a quiet thrill, “this is amazing. This goo… it’s silk, Pacy. Sticky silk, but once it dries, it will make for a great thread.”
Pacificus blinked, a mix of curiosity and confusion crossing his features. “Silk?” he repeated, his brow furrowing slightly. “I... I see... but what is silk?”
Merina chuckled softly, the sound light and warm, as she held up the stick for him to see. The green strands were already beginning to dry, their sheen becoming more pronounced as they solidified into something finer. “Silk is a material, Pacy,” she explained, her tone patient and filled with affection. “It’s a kind of thread that can be woven into cloth. It’s smooth, strong, and when it’s finished, it has a beautiful shine to it. We use it to make garments, especially those that need to be both durable and elegant.”
She carefully twirled the stick, allowing him to see the transformation up close. “This silk is different from what I usually see,” she continued, her voice filled with wonder. “It’s thicker, and the color… this green, it’s so vibrant. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Imagine the possibilities, Pacy. I could weave it into something unique.”
Pacificus watched her with a soft smile, appreciating the enthusiasm that lit up her face. He might not have understood the full significance of her discovery, but he recognized the joy it brought her. “That sounds incredible, Rina,” he said, his voice warm with admiration. “I’m glad you found something special.”
Merina beamed at him, her heart swelling with love for the man who, even in the midst of their survival in this strange and often dangerous forest, had thought to bring back something that could spark her creativity. “Thank you, Pacy,” she whispered, her eyes meeting his with a depth of emotion that needed no further words.
Pacificus returned to his cooking, his movements a little lighter, knowing that he had once again brought a smile to the face of the woman he loved.
Pacificus returned to his cooking with a lightness in his step, the sight of Merina's smile lingering in his mind. He glanced at the larvae, now being expertly spun into silk threads by Merina, and decided to improvise with the other ingredients at hand. He rolled up his sleeves, set his focus, and began to work.
First, Pacificus grabbed the largest of the giant mushrooms, its cap broad and its underside filled with gills that released a deep, earthy scent. He sliced through the mushroom with a well-practiced hand, each cut releasing a rich, savory aroma that promised to deepen the flavor of the dish. The knife glided smoothly through the thick, spongy texture, and soon he had a neat pile of mushroom slices, each piece slightly different in size, showcasing the natural, rustic quality of the forest bounty.
Next, he turned to the wild onions and garlic. Pacificus peeled away the outer layers of the onions, revealing their glossy, pale flesh beneath. He chopped them finely, their sharp, pungent smell filling the air, He added the chopped garlic next, its small cloves yielding easily, releasing their potent, aromatic oil.
The tomatoes came next, their large, ripe bodies bursting with juice. Pacificus cut them into thick wedges, allowing the seeds and juice to spill over the cutting board. The vibrant red color of the tomatoes contrasted beautifully with the other ingredients, promising to add a bright, tangy flavor to the stew. He set them aside and reached for the bell leaves, their green hue deep and the faint ringing sound they made as he handled them adding a touch of magic to the cooking process. He tore them into smaller pieces, their fibrous texture giving way under his hands, releasing a subtle, grassy fragrance that mingled with the other scents in the air.
Finally, he added a handful of the wild potatoes, their skins still dusted with the forest soil. He scrubbed them clean in a basin of water, then diced them into bite-sized chunks. The potatoes were firm and starchy, their texture a perfect complement to the softness of the mushrooms and the juiciness of the tomatoes.
With all the ingredients prepared, Pacificus turned to the fire. He set a pot over the flames, letting it heat for a moment before adding a drizzle of oil. The oil sizzled as it hit the hot metal, and Pacificus quickly added the onions and garlic, stirring them with a wooden spoon. The kitchen filled with the mouthwatering aroma of the vegetables as they softened and caramelized, their edges turning golden brown. He then added the mushrooms, the hearty slices soaking up the flavors from the pot, their moisture released in a gentle hiss.
Once the mushrooms were tender and browned, Pacificus added the tomatoes, stirring them into the mix. The juice from the tomatoes mingled with the mushrooms and onions, creating a rich, fragrant base for the stew. He added a splash of water to the pot, then tossed in the potatoes, letting them sink into the simmering liquid. The bell leaves followed, their green color brightening the stew, adding a hint of bitterness and a touch of magic to the mix.
Pacificus sprinkled in a pinch of salt and a handful of crushed dried herbs he had gathered earlier. He stirred everything together, then covered the pot, allowing the stew to simmer gently over the fire. The aroma grew more complex, filling the hollow with a comforting, mouthwatering smell that made his stomach rumble.
As the stew cooked, Pacificus occasionally lifted the lid to stir, ensuring the flavors blended together perfectly. The potatoes softened, the mushrooms absorbed the tangy tomato juices, and the bell leaves infused the broth with a subtle, unique flavor that was both earthy and refreshing. The bubbling pot was a symphony of scents and colors, each ingredient contributing to the harmony of the dish.
Satisfied with his creation, Pacificus leaned back, his eyes flickering to Merina, who was still absorbed in her silk-spinning.
After enjoying their hearty meal, the couple found solace in the dim light of the hollow tree, where Merina began to teach Pacificus the art of collecting silk. Her hands moved with a grace and speed that left Pacificus in awe, her fingers expertly spinning the silk from the larvae onto a branch. Her movements were fluid and confident, each motion precise as if she had been doing this her entire life. In contrast, Pacificus struggled with the task, his larger, calloused hands fumbling with the delicate strands. He watched her, captivated by the sight of his lover’s deft hands, realizing that while he could navigate the dangers of the forest with ease, he was outmatched when it came to the finer, more delicate tasks that Merina seemed to master so effortlessly.
Merina’s focus, her eyes twinkling with delight as she explained the process, only made Pacificus feel more charmed. He found himself smiling at her, a warmth spreading through his chest as he watched her work. Her fingers moved quickly, drawing the silk from the larvae in a continuous, smooth motion, the strands gleaming softly in the muted light. It was as if she were weaving magic from the very air, her presence turning the dark, damp hollow into a place of wonder.
As the first light of dawn began to filter through the thick canopy of the Ever Resting Forest, the couple dismantled their makeshift door, peeling back the fabric to let the morning’s faint rays penetrate their shelter. The task of freeing Torrent was a familiar one; the Kirin, now more round-bellied from the meal, required a concerted effort to coax and push him through the narrow opening. Pacificus and Merina worked in tandem, laughter escaping their lips as Torrent finally squeezed through, emerging with a satisfied snort and shaking his mane, droplets of morning dew scattering into the air like tiny diamonds.
With Torrent free, their journey continued. Pacificus moved with the agility of a seasoned forest dweller, his powerful legs propelling him from one massive root to another, Torrent following close behind. Merina rode atop the Kirin with an elegant ease, her form poised and graceful as she navigated the shifting terrain. The forest around them was a living, breathing entity, each step taking them deeper into its heart. The towering trees, ancient and imposing, seemed to stretch endlessly into the heavens, their canopies forming a patchwork of shadows and light. The leaves, massive and verdant, rustled softly above them, a natural umbrella that shielded them from the sun's harsh rays.
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On rainy days, the trees served as nature’s waterfalls, their wide leaves catching the downpour and sending streams of water cascading to the ground below. The sound of rushing water filled the air, a constant companion to their travels, mingling with the calls of distant beasts and the creaking of the ancient trunks. The forest was a world of contrasts, both serene and perilous, its beauty laced with the promise of danger. Yet, the couple moved through it as if on a leisurely stroll, their pace unhurried, their spirits light.
For five months, this had been their routine. Each day they ventured further into the forest's depths, Pacificus foraging for food, his sharp eyes spotting edible plants and hidden fruits that Merina would document with meticulous care. Her scrolls, now numerous, were filled with sketches and notes, capturing the essence of their journey. Leather bags bulging with her work were strapped to Torrent’s back, each scroll a testament to their adventure and the wonders they had encountered.
By nightfall, they sought shelter, sometimes finding solace in the cool embrace of a cave, other times in the hollow trunks of the giant trees, their gnarled, ancient interiors offering a safe haven. Occasionally, these shelters were already inhabited by other creatures of the forest, and an unspoken truce would be established, both parties coexisting peacefully under the natural roof. The forest had its own rules, and the couple had learned to respect them, moving quietly and with care, taking only what they needed.
The nights were a time for passion, their love for each other only growing stronger with each passing day. Their bodies, drawn together by an unspoken need, moved in harmony, their lovemaking a dance that left them breathless and fulfilled. It had become a ritual, a way to unwind and connect after the day's adventures, the intimacy bringing them closer than ever. The forest seemed to hold its breath during these moments, the sounds of the night mingling with their own, creating a symphony of life that echoed through the trees.
As they journeyed deeper into the Ever Resting Forest, the landscape grew more surreal. The trees, already massive, loomed even larger, their trunks so wide it would take a dozen men to encircle them. The beasts, too, grew in size and strangeness, their forms both awe-inspiring and terrifying. And yet, for Merina and Pacificus, the forest was their sanctuary, a place of discovery and wonder, where each day brought new sights and new challenges, a world they navigated together, side by side.
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“Pacy,” Merina murmured, the wind gently tousling her hair, which had grown longer over the months. She held Pacificus's head with one hand, her touch tender yet steady, as she carefully shaved his white beard with a dagger made from the claw of a horn-leaf bear. Her movements were relaxed and precise, each stroke smooth and measured. The blade moved deftly across his skin, catching the light as it swept away the coarse hair. “Don’t you think it’s... it’s getting more damp and watery the deeper we go?”
Pacificus smiled, a twinkle of knowing in his eyes. “That’s because the Ever Resting Forest, at its heart, is actually a swamp.”
Merina’s eyes widened in surprise. She handed him a fur cloak to dab his freshly shaven chin, her gaze drifting over the vast expanse of the forest. The revelation gave her a new perspective on the landscape around them, her mind painting images of murky waters and dense underbrush hidden beneath the forest’s leafy canopy.
Beyond the treetops, a gargantuan creature moved with a slow, deliberate grace. Far larger than houses, its body stretched high into the sky, its neck so long that parts of it disappeared into the low-hanging clouds. Ancient trees, their roots entwined in the creature’s thick hide, sprouted from its broad back. The colossus’s steps were monumental, each one carrying it great distances, the ground quaking gently beneath its weight. Its head moved slowly as it grazed on the leaves and fruits of the towering trees, plucking them with a delicate ease that belied its immense size.
The trees on its back were smaller than those growing from the forest floor, yet still grand in scale. An ecosystem thrived atop this living mountain, a lush plateau where life blossomed. Pacificus often harvested leaves from these trees, casually turning them into tea. Apes, their fur thick and bristling, wielded spears and wore wooden masks as they patrolled their arboreal domain, defending their territory from rival harpies. The harpies, sharp-eyed and agile, carried spears of their own, their wings beating the air in a rhythmic dance of survival and conquest.
Choosing their resting spot with care, Pacificus and Merina settled on the creature's massive head, a vantage point like no other. They climbed its neck, which was adorned with thick, house-sized vines that cascaded down like a verdant mane. The vines provided both a pathway and a sanctuary, their leaves whispering in the breeze. As they reached the top, they found themselves enveloped in a world above the world, the ground far below, obscured by the mist of the creature's breath and the canopy of trees.
From their perch atop the creature’s head, they gazed out at the endless sea of trees, their tops swaying gently in the breeze. The treetops appeared to stretch infinitely, growing denser and taller as they approached the heart of the forest. Below, the tannin-colored waters moved with a powerful tide, the surface dappled with the reflections of leaves and sky. The floodwaters twisted and turned, carving through the forest with a force that was both captivating and ominous.
But how did the couple end up on top of the creature’s head? It was all thanks to Torrent, their ever-curious and sometimes obstinate Kirin. The young Kirin had watched his own kind as they leaped nimbly along the branches, their hooves barely touching the wood before they soared upward, seemingly defying gravity to run through the very skies. The sight ignited a spark of longing in Torrent, a desire to join his brethren among the clouds.
Pacificus and Merina had always known that Torrent had the potential for such feats, yet they believed his chances were slim. His humongous belly, a result of his insatiable appetite, seemed to keep him grounded. But they underestimated Torrent’s determination and pride. What had been a passing joke, a playful suggestion from Merina about joining the sky-bound Kirins, was taken to heart by Torrent. With a surge of energy and a flick of his gleaming mane, the Kirin launched himself into the air, hooves churning as if running on an invisible path.
Pacificus barely had time to react. One moment, he was seated comfortably on Torrent’s broad back practicing to ride with Merina, the next, he was clutching desperately at the Kirin’s mane, his knuckles white with the effort to hold on. The ground fell away beneath them, the great branches of the ancient trees becoming a blur. The wind rushed past his ears, whipping his hair into a frenzy as Torrent galloped upward, higher and higher. The sensation was a mix of exhilaration and terror, a wild, uncontrollable ride that sent Pacificus’s stomach lurching with every swoop and dive.
Merina, riding at the front, felt the thrill of the ascent, her laughter ringing out like a melody lost in the wind. Torrent obeyed her commands without hesitation, the Kirin’s powerful legs pounding against the invisible air beneath them as he climbed. Each step was sure and strong, his hooves and claws sparking against the clouds. The great thunder beast’s head loomed closer, a monumental figure that seemed to grow larger with each passing second.
For five long hours, Torrent ran through the skies, his stamina unwavering. The journey was both breathtaking and surreal, a dance upon the wind, spiraling around the massive creature’s neck. Pacificus clung tightly to Torrent’s mane, his face pale as he fought to keep his stomach in check. The nausea roiled within him, threatening to spill over, but the sight of Merina’s joy kept him focused. Her hair streamed out behind her, her eyes alight with wonder and excitement. She looked back at him occasionally, her laughter like a balm to his nerves.
As they neared the thunder beast’s head, the air grew thicker, charged with the energy of the colossal being. Torrent’s hooves beat a steady rhythm, finding purchase even on the intangible substance of the sky. With one final, graceful leap, Torrent landed on the mane that adorned the creature’s neck, his hooves and claws sinking slightly into the dense, vine-like growth. The mane was thick with greenery, vines as thick as a man’s arm twisting through the air, their leaves rustling softly in the wind.
Torrent came to a stop, his breathing heavy but his spirit high. Pacificus slid off his back, stumbling slightly as his feet touched solid ground again. His legs felt weak, his stomach still queasy from the journey, but the awe of their surroundings quickly overcame his discomfort. He looked up, seeing the sprawling forest canopy below them, the treetops stretching out like a verdant sea. The tannin-colored waters glistened far below, the flood’s tide powerful and unrelenting. It was a view unlike any other, a vantage point that few had ever experienced.
Merina dismounted with the grace of a dancer, her eyes wide as she took in the panoramic vista. She turned to Pacificus, her face glowing with excitement and a sense of accomplishment. “We made it, Pacy,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid that speaking too loudly would break the magic of the moment.
Pacificus could only nod, his heart pounding with a mixture of relief and exhilaration. They had done the impossible, climbed higher than they ever thought possible, all thanks to their loyal and unpredictable Kirin. As they stood together on the great thunder beast’s head, the wind tugging gently at their clothes and hair.
The best part was that the thunder beast moved steadily in the direction they were headed, following the currents that flowed beneath its massive form. As the days passed, the flooded forest floor gradually gave way to the vast, muddy tannin swamp. Its waters shimmered with the rich, tea-colored hues of decaying leaves, a telltale sign of the swamp’s depths. The colossal beast waded through it all, its long strides carrying it effortlessly across the murky expanse. Seeing this, Pacificus and Merina didn't hesitate to set up camp on the creature's head, feeling as though they'd found a drifting paradise amidst the wilderness.
For weeks, the couple lived atop the thunder beast, relishing the simplicity and peace of their lofty abode. The enormous head provided ample space for them to rest, their tent pitched securely among the thick vines that served as the creature's mane. At times, they would lie side by side, wrapped in each other's arms, enjoying the sensation of the world moving beneath them, as if they were sailing atop a living island. They made love beneath the open sky, the stars their only witnesses, feeling utterly untethered from the world below. Their days were spent basking in each other’s presence, their laughter mingling with the rustling of leaves, as they watched the tannin waters grow wider and deeper.
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The view from the thunder beast’s head was nothing short of spectacular. The ancient trees towered around them, some so tall they cast shadows even upon the beast's immense form. Though the thunder beast was a giant in its own right, its head held high above the canopy, it was still dwarfed by some of the mightier trees. There were moments when it would stand on its hind legs, its massive form rearing up to nibble at the sweet, tender leaves of the tallest giants. During these times, the couple could feel the slight shift in balance, the creature’s powerful muscles rippling beneath its thick skin as it reached for its leafy prize.
Food was never a concern. Pacificus found that the thunder beast’s mane was a veritable garden, an ecosystem teeming with life. The vines that draped over the creature’s neck bore clusters of man-eating flowers, their bright petals deceptively beautiful, their scent a tantalizing lure for unsuspecting prey. Pacificus carefully harvested the flowers and used their petals in his cooking, their bitter notes adding complexity to their meals. Beans, which he thought only grew on the backs of moss turtles, flourished here as well, their pods hanging heavily from the vine-laden mane, ready to be picked. They provided a steady supply of protein, their taste hearty and familiar.
Arachnids, too, thrived in the thick greenery. One day, as Pacificus explored the vibrant ecosystem atop the thunder beast's head, he came across a giant scorpion, its body as long as his forearm. The creature’s shell gleamed in the dappled sunlight, a mesmerizing iridescence that shifted from green to blue to purple with every subtle movement. The scorpion’s legs were thick and powerful, each one ending in a sharp point capable of piercing the tough foliage. Its pincers were formidable, opening and closing with a soft clicking sound, and its tail, curved over its back, ended in a stinger that glistened with venom.
Pacificus observed the scorpion carefully, noting its slow, deliberate movements. The scorpion hadn't expected a threat, moving through the vines in search of prey. With a fluid motion, Pacificus drew his knife, aiming for the scorpion's vulnerable joint between its body and tail. One well-placed strike, and the scorpion fell, its legs curling inwards as it succumbed to the blow. Satisfied, Pacificus set it aside, knowing the creature would serve as the main ingredient for their next meal.
Continuing his forage, Pacificus noticed movement among the thick vines—a strange, almost whimsical sight. A walking mushroom, about the size of a small child, ambled across the greenery. Its stem was a pale white, resembling the trunk of a sapling, while its cap was a rich, earthy brown, reminiscent of the fertile soil of the forest floor. The mushroom moved slowly, almost lazily, its cap bobbing with each step as it spread a fine mist of spores. The spores floated through the air, settling on the damp, dead leaves and vines, turning them into fertile ground for more mushrooms to grow.
Pacificus approached the mushroom carefully, reaching for his mother’s greatsword. He didn't need to use the blade itself but instead gripped the sword's blade and used the handguard like a hammer. With a swift, practiced motion, he struck the mushroom’s cap, driving the handguard into its stem. The mushroom let out a soft whistling sound, like a faint, mournful breeze, as it fell, its spores dispersing in a last, futile attempt at survival.
Back at their camp, Pacificus set about preparing the meal. He started with his large, sturdy pot, filling it with a quart of fresh water. He gathered an assortment of herbs—some for flavor, others for their subtle, medicinal properties—and dropped them into the pot. The water soon began to simmer, a fragrant steam rising as the herbs released their oils. He carefully cut the tail, claws, and legs from the scorpion, setting them aside to extract every ounce of flavor. He placed the body of the scorpion into the pot, the hot water turning its brown shell a vibrant red as it cooked, similar to how lobsters change color when boiled.
Next, he turned his attention to the walking mushroom. Its skin was thin and covered in a dusting of spores that had a distinctly musty, earthy smell. Pacificus used his knife to carefully peel away the skin, mindful not to inhale the spores, which he knew from experience could cause a nasty itch if they got into his lungs. He washed his hands thoroughly, ridding them of the remaining spores, before slicing the mushroom into thick, meaty chunks.
Satisfied with his preparation, Pacificus looked around, spotting a cluster of wild cabbages growing in the shade of a vine. He gathered a few, their leaves broad and green, slightly waxy to the touch. He washed them in a small stream that trickled down from the thunder beast’s mane, then chopped them into bite-sized pieces. Next, he gathered some wild potatoes, their skins rough and their shapes irregular, and cut them into hearty chunks, adding them to the pot along with the cabbage leaves and other wild vegetables he had collected.
As the stew simmered, Pacificus stirred it with a long-handled spoon, tasting it occasionally. The flavors mingled—earthy from the mushrooms, rich from the scorpion, with a hint of bitterness from the bell leaves and a depth added by the wild herbs. He sprinkled in some of his precious spices, collected from their travels, adding a hint of warmth and complexity to the stew. The scent of the meal filled the air, a mouth-watering aroma that promised comfort and satisfaction.
Finally, Pacificus added the scorpion meat, which he had chopped into manageable pieces. The scorpion meat was firm, almost like shellfish, and took on the flavors of the stew beautifully. He then added the chunks of walking mushroom, letting them soak up the broth, their texture softening but still retaining a pleasing bite.
As the stew came to a final boil, thickening to the perfect consistency, Pacificus leaned back, content. The meal was ready, and he knew it would be as hearty and satisfying as any they had shared on their journey.
Pacificus called out for Merina, expecting her to be lost in her spinning. To his surprise, she had already set up a makeshift loom and spindle, cleverly crafted from fresh wood and vines she had gathered. The loom stood propped against a sturdy vine, the spindle twirling gracefully between her fingers. The green strands of silk she had spun from the larvae glistened in the filtered sunlight, catching the golden rays like strands of emerald thread. Merina looked up, a smile lighting up her face as she saw Pacificus. She set aside her tools and rose, crossing the small clearing atop the thunder beast’s head. The earthy, aromatic scent of the hotpot filled the air, making her stomach rumble in anticipation.
She reached Pacificus, leaning in to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. The touch was tender, a silent exchange of warmth and love that had grown deeper with each passing day. They pulled apart, both smiling as they turned their attention to the meal Pacificus had prepared. He ladled the rich, aromatic stew into wooden bowls, the steam rising in delicate wisps, carrying with it the scent of the herbs, scorpion, and wild mushrooms. The sight of the hearty meal made both their mouths water, eager to taste the creation.
Torrent, their ever-hungry kirin companion, was already settled beside them. His enormous wooden bowl brimming with broth sat before him, the kirin’s nostrils flaring as he inhaled the savory aroma. He lowered his head to lap at the broth, tongue flicking out to catch every drop. The broth was hearty and filled with tender vegetables, much to Torrent’s delight. His eyes closed in bliss as he chewed contentedly, the crunch of vegetables echoing in the quiet air. Occasionally, he picked out pieces of the cooked scorpion, gnashing them between his strong jaws, but it was clear from his expression that he much preferred the taste of the vegetables over the meat.
Merina and Pacificus shared a laugh, watching the kirin's discerning eating habits, then turned their attention to their own meal. The scorpion’s shell was hard, requiring a bit of effort to crack open, but the meat inside was worth it. Tender and juicy, it had a slightly sweet flavor, reminiscent of the finest shellfish, with a subtle hint of the wild spices Pacificus had used. The mushrooms added an earthy undertone, balancing the flavors perfectly. They ate slowly, savoring each bite, the warmth of the stew spreading through their bodies.
As they dined, the couple took in the breathtaking view around them. From their vantage point atop the thunder beast’s head, they could see the vast expanse of the Ever Resting Forest. The giant trees stretched out below, their ancient trunks rising like the pillars of a cathedral, their leaves forming a thick canopy that undulated with the wind. The tannin-stained waters of the swamp glimmered in the distance, reflecting the light of the slowly setting sun. It was a serene and otherworldly landscape, filled with the harmonious sounds of nature—the calls of distant birds, the rustle of leaves, and the soft bubbling of the swamp below.
Merina leaned against Pacificus, her head resting on his shoulder, her hand slipping into his. They ate in companionable silence, each content in the other’s presence. The food was delicious, the company perfect, and the view nothing short of magical. For a moment, the dangers of the Ever Resting Forest felt far away, and they were just two lovers sharing a meal in a world all their own.
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Beneath the canopy of stars, Torrent lay sprawled on the soft, grassy expanse atop the thunder beast’s head, his gleaming scales reflecting the faint light of the moon. The night was cool, the air filled with the scent of damp earth and foliage, and the gentle rustling of the thunder beast’s mane provided a soothing lullaby. It should have been the perfect setting for sleep, yet Torrent found himself wide awake, ears twitching in irritation.
The source of his annoyance came from the large tent pitched nearby, its fabric fluttering slightly in the night breeze. Inside, the two lovers were lost in an intense display of passion, their silhouettes visible through the thin walls. Pacificus’s body moved over Merina’s, his lips brushing along the curve of her neck, his hands exploring her skin with a reverence that spoke of deep love and devotion. His touch was gentle, even as his desire for her was evident, his weight balanced carefully so as not to overwhelm her. His kisses trailed down her collarbone, each press of his lips a promise, his breath warm against her skin.
Merina responded in kind, her fingers weaving through Pacificus’s hair, pulling him closer. She tilted her head, giving him better access to the sensitive spot just beneath her ear, which he nibbled and kissed, drawing soft gasps from her lips. Her own mouth sought his neck, her kisses alternating between tender and hungry, her teeth grazing the sensitive flesh of his earlobe. Her movements were as fluid as water, her body arching into his, matching his rhythm, both giving and receiving pleasure in equal measure. Their breathing mingled, their moans rising into the night, unabashed and raw, a testament to the love they shared.
Torrent’s ears flicked back, the kirin’s tail swishing in frustration as he listened to the lovers’ passionate noises. Each moan and gasp seemed to echo in his mind, reminding him that sleep would not come easily this night. He let out a heavy sigh, rolling over onto his side, his back to the tent, trying to block out the sounds. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand their need to be close, but every night, the same routine, the same loud displays of affection. He huffed, blowing a tuft of grass away from his face, his large eyes narrowing as he cast a glance over his shoulder at the tent.
With a snort, Torrent buried his head under his foreleg, trying to muffle the sounds. Yet, even through the thick fur and scales, he could still hear them—Merina’s breathy sighs, Pacificus’s low groans. The kirin’s ears twitched again in irritation, his tail lashing against the ground. He was a majestic creature, a proud and noble steed, deserving of the utmost respect and peace. And yet, night after night, he was forced to endure this—listening to his humans behaving like... beasts.
He closed his eyes, willing himself to find some semblance of calm. As much as he tried to ignore it, the noises persisted, a reminder of the intimacy that he, with all his wisdom and power, could not comprehend. Perhaps, he mused, it was the humans who were the true beasts, driven by instincts and desires that defied reason. He sighed once more, resigning himself to a night of restless half-sleep, wishing for the dawn to come swiftly. After all, it seemed that while the lovers found solace in each other’s arms, Torrent would have to find his peace in the silence of the stars.