on the digestive nature of tangleweeds

OIA'I'O

and i asked myself about the present:

“Records indicate that this area has been under the barrier for 308 years and 2 seasons. It was lifted in 309 Flowerbirth, though a description of how this came to be does not seem to be readily available.” I say. I have no feelings about this assignment, nor any great expectations. I am here to watch, record, and learn what I can.

Standing before the scarred line that delineates the Hollowed Grounds from the rest of the world, I kneel and place my fingers upon the budding shoots of grass. Indeed the sprouts that grow where the barrier once was , feel more brittle than their counterparts only a few inches away. I studiously note this, as well as colour, texture, and—after plucking a blade of grass and chewing on it momentarily—taste and mouthfeel. I make sure to keep one of my toes tapping slightly so that I do not disappear into the grasses, thus rendering this sample of earth contaminated by my presence. Others might judge this as a nervous or anxious trait, but it is far from that. I experience little sentiment or emotions having trained myself long ago to brush them away as one might seedlings caught in a spring breeze.

“Have you thought about how we should approach them?” I ask Kai, knowing that he likely has. Though we differ in many things, in dealing with them (read: anyone not us), he has a more intuitive and successful track record.

how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep