To my own surprise, the climb upwards after that attack went very uneventfully. Within a day, I began seeing more trees that I could recognize from the juhi, and after another day, I started seeing tripvines again. In other words, if nothing else, I should be getting close to the stratum where I've been.

In other words, I should be getting closer to Takamatsu Village, however far that is.

It took me another day of climbing, and I finally couldn't see where I was attacked by the frogmouth.

Three days. That's not very long at all.

... I keep finding myself wondering how long it'll be until I reach Takamatsu Village. That said, each night, I still see the village in my dreams. I still see its pluck, inhabited by domesticated animals and gardens of farmable plants. I still see my school, the classrooms we sat together in, the handlebars where the young winged children would perch. I still see its roost, the rings upon rings of houses sitting next to each other.

The faces of each and every person who had thrown a glance in my direction.

Of Aketa-sensei, my classroom teacher.

Of my mother.

Of my father.

Gekka.

Oboro.

Benimaru.

Akashi.

I have not forgotten you.

Every now and then, the only path Kotengu could lead me would go across various habitats of various animals. Five days into the climb, I find myself following a natural firehouse: the pools of water by my side are boiling, and my legs feel warm along the path of the heated Tree branch. At the end of this path, however, is a very tall shrub—so tall that it entirely blocks the sunlight.

"Kotengu, is this really the right path?"

Kawk!

The shortest I can find.

Well, that can't be good.

Once I get closer to the tall shrub, it becomes clear that it isn't just one tall shrub, one wide shrub: it's a whole group of shrubs. They stick together similar to the short trees we use as cover from sparkwaves, except that these trees only look like shrubs—they're all really, really tall.

And, given how they're also each very wide, it doesn't take much thinking for me to realize that the shrubs all function as some sort of dome: the heat path from the natural firehouse goes through them, and whatever is inside that dome must be quite warm.

Huh. That actually doesn't look so bad for a place to stay the night.

"Should we stay here tonight?" I offer. "It's warmer than where we usually stop, so I won't need to prepare a blanket first. It's also hidden under big shrubs. Shouldn't it be pretty safe?"

Kawk!

Risky.

... I'm not sure why, but if Kotengu says so....

We walk by the tall shrubbery. Seriously, these should probably be considered trees rather than shrubs given how tall they all are. Such large leafy domes. The only dome we had in Takamatsu Village was one made by carving out the insides of a particularly large Tree branch, and we used that as our classroom. The insides of these shrub domes are probably plenty dark, but with the firehouse vein going through them, I can only imagine how warm it has to be.

We pass by the muddy area, away from the shrubs, and the firehouse vein eventually twists in a direction away from where Kotengu leads me. With that, I continue my climb.

These muddy places of heated liquid and rotten leaves apparently persist for a good number of strata since. I keep finding these shrubs, and something eventually starts nagging behind my head, like I've learned about this before—but this time not from the juhi tablets I read on my own. No, it's something closer to the Village, and I must've learned of it when talking about the Village, but I keep failing to find exactly when and what I learned. Was it something mentioned in passing? Was it something else? Unimportant at the time, maybe? I can't be sure.

What I can be sure about, of all things, is that these shrubs don't grow near Takamatsu Village. At the very least, I've never seen them around the Village, and I've never seen them outside the Village in what little places I could see with my own eyes.

We spent the rest of the day climbing as usual. The only difference is that I decided that I wanted to try finding my own food this time, with Kotengu just telling me whether the fruits I gathered were edible. It wasn't perfect, but I actually managed to get three out of four on that rating—one fruit was apparently too young and unripe to be eaten, and there's no real way to tell when that one has ripened. The juhi showing the fruit didn't mention anything about that—it only mentioned the fruit to be edible, and it was one of the materials that could explode when in hard contact with an electral fruit. Maybe Kotengu only figured it out because it smelled different? I have no idea. Either way, Kotengu decided that the fruit should be poisonous as long as it's still unripe, so I put that fruit in my belt and made a mental note to skip that fruit entirely whenever possible.

With the rest of the edible ones, I thank the timberflyers for writing the juhi tablets that eventually ended up in the Takamatsu Village articularium, and take a munch as the sun goes down.

It's then that I realize I'm in trouble.

First and most importantly of all: there aren't many hiding spots. No shrubbery groups I can hide in, no short trees to hide under, no large trees with notable grooves where I can sleep. I'd be very vulnerable, out in the open, and must seem pretty tasty to predators.

Secondly, for the past few strata now, the ground has been very muddy. It's as if the potfruits here constantly overflow and the grounds so full of dead leaves and whatever odd stuff the Tree has under its thick bark. They don't really make for good grounds to sleep on. I don't think Kura's feathers would take kindly to mud, and I'd be in real danger if the korowai is ruined.

The lack of large trees also means that there are no large leaves apart from the Tree's, and there's no way I'm strong enough to pick off even a single sheet of that, so there's no sleeping with a leaf blanket tonight.

Which means the cold....

I touch my sling. Will I need to prepare for a fight? At the very least, I should focus on making it out alive tonight so that I can climb up tomorrow. Muddy grounds are rare. Climb up high enough, and they should disappear in no time at all.

Sigh. And I just told Kotengu I want to learn finding my own way in the wild. "Kotengu," I call. "Where do you think we can rest tonight?"

Kawk.

That sounds like a very reluctant caw, which I don't think I've really ever heard from Kotengu at all before. That's new. The caw sounded resigned and dispirited, like he had no choice but to kawk, even though he really didn't want to.

He cawed while pointing in the direction of the tall shrubs.

Oh, hey, those shrubs may form around mud, but they also form around natural firehouses! Even the bushes of electrals around them should confirm as much. They should be pretty warm at night, and the dome-like structure of the shrubbery should make the inside rather safe from predators, right?

The first hint of cold wind blows onto my face, and with the stars guiding my way, I decide to walk towards the tall shrubs.

Risky, Kotengu mentioned earlier.

Why?

All that said, I don't have any other choice. I need to rest the night—forcing myself to stay awake won't do me much good, and the only way I can make it through the night is shelter, as risky as any shelter could be.

Will the ground near the shrubs be muddy?

Will the shrubs be strong enough to support my body above the ground?

Will I need to use my rope to tie myself to its trunk so that I can sleep without touching the ground?

The thoughts don't stop, but neither do my legs. In no time at all, with nothing but the darkness of the night around me, I finally come again face-to-face with the great shrubbery dome.

With the starlight, I can vaguely see the network of branches between the leaves, as if the shrub isn't just shaped like a dome, but truly is one on the surface: the branches form tight networks with each other, while the leaves grow out of them, laying on top of them, forming a whole outer layer of leaves.

That's odd. Shrubs usually only look a certain way from the outside, because on the inside, they're still plants. Their structure should still be like the usual trees for the most part. Not like ... whatever this is.

I keep walking closer, and closer, until I finally reach the smallest opening between the branches.

With nothing but total darkness greeting me inside, I tuck myself in, take a deep breath, and walk inside.

The first thing I notice is the dampness.

The air feels heavy and wet. Nothing that really makes my skin really wet, of course, but it feels wet. It's as if the dome traps heat, as I suspected, except that it also makes the air in it very humid.

There's a strong woody smell, as if the Tree is exposed here and something makes it smell stronger ... like mud.

Carefully, I tread on the ground, one step at a time, one foot after another. To my surprise, the ground isn't wet or muddy like I thought it would be. Did the shrub absorb all the water? I don't think they do that, since a lot of larger trees just have really strong roots that dig right into the Tree....

The worst part of it all is that I can't really see anything. There are tiny holes between the foliage where a little of whatever soft lights there are outside peek in, but none of those lights are strong enough to really light up the inside of the shrub. All I notice is that my wild guess was correct—the shrub isn't just shaped like a dome, but actually is one. The branches seem to have grown all from the top of the main trunk, interlinking with each other and growing leaves on the outside, then slowly growing in curves towards the ground because of how heavy they were, making a gigantic shrub that looks like a dome with a lot of space inside.

The ground is dry. The air is humid, but warm. This is good.

"Kotengu, can I ask for the usual?"

The bird caws softly in response. Was that slight wariness? I can't really make it out.

Feeling the air inside this shrub makes me realize just how tired I really am. I suppose I can at least just rest easy for the night.

If only there were more places like this on the Tree....

*

Kotengu's feelings pierced my mind with a very odd image: egg.

That was it. No additional information. Egg. It was so weird that I started dreaming of throwing bird eggs at my classmates.

Egg.

I moan a little and shift my sleeping position. My hand lands on something smooth and round. Heheh. Like an egg.

Egg.

Hang on a second.

I slowly open my eyes. It's still plenty dark, but the air feels different somehow. How long was I out?

I blink a few times rapidly, getting rid of the little lights in my eyes, letting myself adjust to the darkness of the shrub once more.

My hand.

It's on an egg.

Egg.

No additional information.

... wait. That's odd.

I move my hand around the egg a little, and that allows me to confirm why it felt off. It's not an egg.

It's multiple eggs.

It's a whole nest.

There's a nest on the ground here.

I get up, but then pause. I can understand the nest. This place is a great spot to build a nest. It's warm, unseen from the outside, and leaves no scent trail thanks to the mud surrounding the shrubs. It's also a good place for the breeding bird to sleep, since I've slept here myself—assuming this is a bird, of course. I mean, it's a nest, and it has a bunch of eggs in it. It should be a bird's nest, right? There are many animals that don't build eggs. Frogs don't build eggs.

The animal with a hook at the tip of its tail also doesn't build nests....

I wince. Seriously, what is with that animal? I still can't scratch my itch about them.

But that animal aside, there's a bigger issue right here, waiting for me, warmly touching my hand.

This is a bird's nest.

It's filled with eggs.

So where is the nesting bird?

Only breeding birds build nests, and I think every juhi about every bird in the Takamatsu articularium said that all birds guard their eggs. Mainly against predators and egg-eating beasts, but generally against any intruders.

Intruders like me.

I get on my feet, making sure my korowai is unharmed—my heart starts racing, so I need to make sure I can jump into action whenever I need to.

I check my belt. Fruits ready to sling. My hook seems fine, no defect on its surface. My rope is tangled a little, but I can work on that on the way.

I still can't see anything clearly, but I can still tell where the exit should be.

Breeding birds usually only leave their nests to forage or hunt for food, so if this animal isn't here during the night, it should be nocturnal. Or, at the very least, it should be used to hunting in the dark. Another frogmouth, maybe? No, I don't think so. The juhi about frogmouths mentioned that frogmouth mothers don't leave their nests throughout their entire incubation period, not even for meals, so that they would be significantly weaker by the time their chicks hatched. Their incubation was short, though, so it's usually not fatal to the mothers.

Frogmouths also needed to quickly get used to ambushing their prey and learning their terrains, so they usually built their nests around slanted or even vertical areas of the Tree. Their hatchlings would learn to climb as soon as they could move their limbs, and they needed the place to do this.

Oh—the mothers don't teach their babies, by the way. The babies must learn to do this on their own, because their mother would be starving by the time she was done incubating them, so much so that she could eat her own babies.

That's also part of their training to be soundless creatures who knew how to hide themselves, because if their own mother found them, they could end up back in their mother's belly.

So, no. This is the inside of a shrub. This place is warm. This place is surrounded by mud pools. This place has no climbing areas, and it's so dark and open inside that any creature who sees in the night would find any other who does, making it horrible place to practice acting in secrecy. This does not seem like frogmouth habitat.

... warm....

Warm. Shrubbery. Darkness. Oh, wait, I've heard of this before....

Shrub domes don't really trigger my memory, but I have read a juhi entry about animals that live in very competitive groups inside places of warm, muddy darkness.

—this isn't good.

The moment it clicks in my head, I jump.

Something else jumps with me.

Then something else.

Then something else.

And then something else.

I can't see them, but I can hear their noises—and they're very close.

I shriek. I can hear Kotengu cawing from above me, but I can't really make out where exactly. Something hits my body from the side with such a force that it feels like I crashed into a wall.

I trip over from the push, and I can feel a very sharp claw scratching my arm.

I pull back just in time.

The claw scratched my arm, but only the surface—no deep scars there, I believe. At least that's what it feels like.

I get back on my feet, but something else hits me from the back with similar force and I stumble back down.

Then I can hear squawking. Followed by another squawk from another direction, and another, and another, echoing everywhere in the darkness of the dome.

... oh, no.

It's really them.

The squawking noises grow louder, turning into powerful honks. I can hear the rustling of rushed footsteps, the flapping of wings that can't take flight, the clacketing of beaks echoing amidst the cacophony of noises ... they were certainly not happy with their homecoming gift of a whole intruder.

I can't let them ruin the korowai.

I still need my korowai.

Oh, I really hate resorting to this. "Kotengu!"

Got it!

I can't really hear his typical kawk from up above thanks to all the noise, but I can hear the presence closest to me stumbling away—Kotengu probably attacked its eyes, as he usually liked to do. That's my cue.

I kick the ground without even getting up on my feet, pushing myself forward as I scratch and claw for the surface of the ground, making my own way out as fast as I can.

Another one of the beasts tries to peck my head, but I feel the shift in the air and duck.

Something sharp and heavy on my back—

Kawk!

With Kotengu back to the rescue, I keep crawling as fast as I can. I don't have time to stand up. I need to get out of here—

Then, out of nowhere, lights.

Directly to my eyes.

I wince and squint. Lights. Very bright rays of light make their way through the gaps between the leaves, in the little holes between the network of branches, and I finally realize what's happening: dawn is breaking.

It's morning.

The volatile honking all around me grows more erratic. The beasts probably don't like sunlight, which should explain their choice of habitat—but if the juhi records were to be trusted, they're still an aggressive breed.

And I've seen firsthand how aggressive beasts behaved.

I haven't forgotten the lapwing's eyes.

With one final grunt, with my eyes squinted to nearly a close, I pushed myself out into the light.

My entire field of vision turns white.

Wet. Humid. Mud.

My hands feel all the textures of the outside world, and I scramble to my feet as my eyes adjust to the brightness.

The sun just begins rising on the horizon, climbing ever so slowly from the Cloud Blanket.

Kawk!

Kotengu's right: I'm not out of the woods yet.

I take a step forward, preparing to run—

CLACK.

That nearly made me jump and trip, but I regain my footing quickly and continue running.

I take a peek back—I know I shouldn't because it would slow me down, but I just can't help myself.

And there, in all its aggressive glory, out for my blood, is the nestmaster who has just returned from its foraging.

It's tall. That's my first impression. Its neck is rather long, almost as long as my entire arm, but most notable about its neck is how thick it is—it's almost as if it doesn't look long at all. It stands tall and proud at almost five forearms tall, towering at almost twice my own height. Its beak is large and curved, as if it feeds on grains, but it has what seems to be an extremely sharp tip curving inwards and a rounded, hard part above its nostrils.

Its beak is bright red, while its entire coloration seems to be coated in dark gray, with only its chest and the insides of its small wings colored brightly. Its legs are heavily muscular, as it's the only means with which they can travel. Its toes are relatively thin, but spread out evenly with large, sharp claws on each tip.

Oh, and those wings, those legs? It's because it can't fly.

In exchange, it pursues its enemies on foot.

... that confirms it. I've seen this beast's juhi before.

The Kunoi timberflyers called it kikyouhou. There's this shelled creature we call the shelled walker, who could hide its head and all its limbs into its very hard circular shell, and the shelled walker has a curved sharp beak, just like this bird; or, rather, this bird has a curved sharp beak, just like a shelled walker.

Otherwise, the creature looks like a goose. Hence the name kikyouhou, or chelychelynechen—it literally means 'shelled walker-jawed goose'.

The chelychelynechen is a creature that lives in groups, but they regulate what they eat. They don't want to run out, after all, so it's as if they do a form of primitive farming: they'd find the grains they like to eat, form groups around where they grow, and make sure nobody overindulges. In exchange, this also means defending their grains from other grain-eaters, or even other chelychelynechens.

In other words, this makes them extremely territorial.

They must really hate that an intruder like me managed to get so close to their eggs.

Apart from the one chelychelynechen chasing me out the shrub, I can see at least two more emerging from between the leaves—oh, come on, are we really going to make this a chase? I barely got enough sleep thanks to the nightmares.

Kawk!

I furrow my eyebrows. "What do you mean a quick way?"

Kawk!

"Electrals? What do they—"

I feel the weight of my belt on my hips.

Of the fruits I kept in it....

Oh.

"Are you sure?" I ask Kotengu as he swoops in to keep the chelychelynechen closest to me from reaching me too quickly. "I can end up destroying the entire nest."

Kawk!

... he's right. I'm in danger. Since when do I care?

Something nags me in the back of my head, something I can't really make out, something that feels like it would make me stop running, but I can't. Not for my life. Not right now. I can't stop and listen because it would mean I have to stop.

And I can't afford that.

Lowering my stance as I run, I grab a single electral fruit nearby. Then, wishing for the best, I take my sling to load the unripe fruit from yesterday's failed dinner.

I turn back.

The three chelychelynechens are close—too close.

One less than two forearms away—

I throw the electral fruit to the bird's mouth.

The fruit bounces off of its beak harmlessly, and for a split-second, it seems that the bird is confused.

I take that chance to swing my sling and shoot the unripe fruit at the electral fruit before it falls.

One fruit was apparently too young and unripe to be eaten, and there's no real way to tell when that one has ripened.

That's why I couldn't trust the fruit.

The juhi showing the fruit didn't mention anything about that—it only mentioned the fruit to be edible....

But that's not why I kept it....

and it was one of the materials that could explode when in hard contact with an electral fruit.

The two fruits collide.

BOOM!!!

The explosion is harsh, but it doesn't push me back. What it does, however, is burn the chelychelynechen's beak.

And not only that. As soon as the pieces of the fruit hit the Tree, it starts catching fire.

The mud may make this area humid, but in a place so full of fallen branches and dead leaves, anything dry is fair game for the flame.

That, of course, includes the chelychelynechen's body.

The bird screams.

It screeches. It squeaks. I can't find the right word for the high-pitched ringing it makes as it laments the total destruction of its beak and the ongoing scorching of its own body. It thrashes around, completely forgetting its pursuit of me—it's just desperate to put out the fire engulfing itself.

The other two chelychelynechen also immediately stop their pursuit—but instead of helping their groupmate, they run back to the shrub, squawking almost as loudly as their burning friend.

I can't even take another step away as the chelychelynechen spread its fire to nearby shrubs.

In a place so full of fallen branches and dead leaves....

Soon enough, before I can even fully see the light of the sun brightening the sky, the shine of the dried woods around me jumps at my eyes.

The fields of gray and green just turn into a visceral sight of a bright, all-consuming red.

One chelychelynechen, a lot of dried wood, and little moisture outside—

The honking and screaming seem to get louder, and through the rising smoke and beyond the licking flames, I can see shadows of the other chelychelynechen running away. Not just the two pursuing me earlier, but more of them: it seems like their entire flock is running away.

... abandoning their eggs and young.

KAWK!!

That caw is filled with so much urgency, a caw unlike any I've heard Kotengu make before—not even during the fire from the sparkwave sweeping Totara Pendent—but I stand there, frozen in place, as a whole fire begins engulfing the entire shrubbery.

The original burning chelychelynechen is nowhere to be seen.

Are you sure?

I can end up destroying the entire nest....

This is way beyond the nest.

I thought my vision blurred, but when my senses came back, I realized that I was just crying.

Kawk!

... Kotengu is right. I need to get out of here before the smoke entirely blocks my breathing.

I scream something I can't hear myself, then turn back and run away. I can't really be sure what I screamed out because my mind is occupied—but I think it was an apology.

*