[ti]spawn[/ti]Betula albosinensis

With the Foongus well and dispatched, the trio moved deeper into the woods. The silence was not entirely peaceful. Pidove's feathers were still ruffled and twitching from both aggravation and itchiness. Everytime she chittered or hissed to herself, Falas scrunched up tighter behind him. On one hand, Pidove could stand to be a little less testy. On the other hand, Falas probably needed to learn everything was going to be okay. Without the little lizard speaking or telling anyone why he had been in such a panic when Alistair had gotten him, though, Alistair wasnt' sure what he could do. What if he tried to help, and it made things worse? For that matter, why was Pidove herself that way?

Was there even an explanation, or was it some randomized series of numbers resulting in whatever personalities the game was capable of spitting out? He kept having to remind himself these weren't really living creatures in the same sense that he was. No wonder Sarthor was so obsessed- he could only imagine what his brain was going through every time it tried to parse reality from the game on an instinctive level. It really was going to be interesting to look at later with the sensors...

Finally! A creek. But Pidove didn't swoop down right away. She tilted her head this way and that from her perch, looking for danger. Alistair, less concerned, headed right into the clearing.