~~~

Wyrmwood gazed up at the Venus dryad’s towering form. It had been mostly buried underground when Wyrmwood happened upon it, but now it had pulled itself fully out, revealing a Venus Flytrap head with a long flowing body of roots and tubers. It’s less humanoid form would have told any adventurers present that it was old, almost an elder dryad. Even when Wyrmwood reared up its front half, it only reached about half the Venus dryad’s size!

“A hatchling?” The dryad asked herself, her uncharacteristically mature feminine voice punctuated by the snapping of her wide mouth as she spoke. “What are you doing here, all alone?” She snapped curiously.

Wyrmwood figured the plant creature was trying to communicate, but didn’t understand the noises. Did this giant monster want something from it? Its eyes narrowed in suspicion and it started to try to look bigger as the same blue box as the ones in Wyrmwood’s first dream appeared in front of the Venus dryad!

…As it turned out, Wyrmwood’s tail end was long enough that when it coiled up its tail under it, it just barely reached the height of the dryad’s head.

“My, oh my,” the dryad suddenly spoke again, making Wyrmwood stiffen, preparing to either try to defend or flee. “You’re certainly an interesting one.” She snapped curiously at the strange Lindworm.

“If you had just been a reject those pesky humanoids had missed when they were trouncing around these woods, I’d have just considered you a surprise snack.” She mused, her tone holding enough malice for the not understanding Wyrmwood to hiss warningly back at her. Yet, she just continued on, like Wyrmwood wasn’t a threat to her at all.

“But since you have the “host of decay” title, in these woods that can only mean you are to be considered kin of the bog mother.” She circled around Wyrmwood slowly, observing him from every angle.

“Well, I can certainly see a few places some of your ‘guests’ are.” She leaned in, her massive plant maw grinning with pure predatory power as it easily dwarfed Wyrmwood’s own head. “Tell me, how is that old hag doing anyway?”

Still not sure what the dryad was saying, it took the leaning in as a threat, it took a deep breath in and spewed out its draconic flames… it coughed in her face.

Yet, instead of recoiling, or even being upset, the dryad took its own deep breath! “Oh my, such lovely spores!” She complimented, her entire form seeming to ripple before small clusters of healthy looking moss and mushrooms sprouted along her roots. “This will surely help me grow even stronger! Thanks for the gift, little one.”

Wyrmwood had no idea what just happened, but the Venus dryad seemed pleased and had pulled its head back in the end, so things were probably fine, right? It kind of just wanted to leave now. It couldn’t understand anything the dryad was trying to say, but it seemed like she wouldn’t attack it.

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“Well, a gift from the kin of the bog mother deserves a gift in return, doesn’t it?” She mused to herself, still talking. “Here, little hatchling, take one of my seeds.” She said, one of her root-tentacles extending to give it a bulbous looking object. Wyrmwood hesitated, before slowly reaching out for the proffered object. Contrary to its looks, the thing it had been given was rather small in the palm of Wyrmwood’s grasp, making Wyrmwood instinctively hold it gently as it held it up, examining it curiously.

“Do with my seedling what you will, it could be a quick power boost if eaten, or a strong ally if grown, I care not for your decision of its fate, I will grow more.” She said with a magnanimous wave of a root-tentacle.

As Wyrmwood glanced between the seedling and the dryad that gave it, it found itself wondering if the creature actually thought it understood her words or just if she just liked hearing her own snappy voice. Without anything to really stop it, Wyrmwood decided to just leave. Turning to slither away with the seedling tucked gently away in its clawed fist.

“Leaving already? Without even saying a single word?!” The dryad huffed, sounding rather offended now. “I get that a lot of your kind likes to be the ‘strong silent’ types, but seriously! You could have at least-“ Her words slow as her mind suddenly pointed out that the humanoids had only swarmed the forest looking for abandoned dragon eggs a few months ago. She looked the leaving dragon over again and then realized that its body was unnaturally much longer, compared to the average Lindworm’s. Finally, putting two and two together, she let out a small embarrassed, “oh.”

It was still too young to understand words. She had just assumed it was old enough based on its overall body size.

~~~

Wyrmwood decided to look for a new temporary base. It was tired from its exploration and the meeting with that plant creature. Also, it wanted to further study the thing it had been given. It could practically feel the strong pulses of nature mana the object exuded from in its grasp. It slithered around the area, purposely giving any nearby animal scents a wide berth as it looked for a good spot to rest. It eventually found one, a large fallen tree with plenty of large, exposed roots and soft, upturned dirt to hide in. Taking the time to dig around and half bury itself, it did its best to blend in with the roots as it settled in for a good sleep. The seedling nestled protectively next to its reverse scale.

Yet as Wyrmwood slept, the seedling reacted to the dragon’s body’s receptive nature. Tiny sprouts growing out and slowly digging in under the reverse scale. Anything else even getting near that one weekspot of every dragon would get the natural reaction of a dragon’s wrath. But the heavily invasive mutations Wyrmwood went through before even hatching had made it able to sleep through anything.

That would be a problem as it continued to grow. Enemy’s wouldn’t wait for it to wake before slaying it.

The seedling pulses with power as it gained access to the purest lifeblood of the dragon, its roots anchoring in Wyrmwood’s veins and exchanging nutrients through blood and sap strengthening it as it began acting like a heart, its form growing incredibly tough bark over the dragon’s one true weak spot. Something else in the dragon’s body noticed the change and gave it some of the spores from Wyrmwood’s lungs. Causing soft moss to cover the outside of the bark, making it look almost like a patch of fur on Wyrmwood’s chest, the only spot on its otherwise fully scaled body. Finally, the growth stopped, the seedling understanding that any more would harm its host more than help it.

For now, it would protect its host’s weak spot and provide the host a small amount of passive energy through photosynthesis. As the host grew it may be allowed to draw on more of the dragon’s blood, strengthening its bark further and letting it grow with Wyrmwood. It curiously reached out through the veins and organs of Wyrmwood’s body to find the other entity that had helped it, yet its attempts were ignored.

It did indeed find others within the dragon, but the one that had helped it seemed to return to dormancy, the spores in Wyrmwood’s lungs only cared for growth, and while it thought something might reside in the dragon’s flesh, it felt too alien to try contacting.

Wyrmwood, meanwhile, dreamed that it was being swarmed by vengeful critters. It was not a restful sleep.