adherents by Lindsay Bison

eblo | stories | adherents

Margue was sweating, but the night was cool. He perched atop a seliota stalk, which swayed under his movements. It was one of the tallest fungi in the forest, and gave him a beautiful view of the canopy. Had the moon been full, and he blessed with more time, the greens and yellows and oranges rocking in the breeze would have bled together like the lifeblood of the forest they were, and he would have marveled at his good fortune to witness such beauty — the very reason day trips ascended the easily climbed (but what a slog to get to!) cliffs to the east and drew so many customers.


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