𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖

It’s an early morning.

Cool fog still hugs the earth in its gentle arms, softly rolling through the bayou forests like foam atop the ocean. It leaves a soft, damp kiss on everything it touches, making idle drips here and there, clinging to fallen leaves like morning dew on a blade of grass. It’s almost picturesque, so serene you might think you were in a museum, fixated on the art on the wall in front of you. But a painting could not capture the magic of this place, magic so small and yet so bright. Magic that brings forth life, letting the tiniest heartbeat bloom from bud to blossom.

You see, coming across a hatching baby symprite has always been one of the most magical moments in all the world. There are honestly very few things could top something like this, and to be able to witness it for yourself with your own eyes is something so lucky that you will almost never see it more than once, and even once is considered lucky.

There’s a cluster of mushrooms growing deep in those woods, as close to the swampy waters as you could have it, shelved in staggered ranks along a fallen tree that lays silently on the earth. The tree’s once-mighty trunk is now home to moss, lichen, and fungi alike, and it’s the latter that becomes the focus of this particular tale. The edges of the fungi themselves are soft and damp from the rolling fog; turkey tail mushrooms are always so beautiful when fanned out. However, there is one mushroom in particular that is different from the rest, and it is one that has been touched by some sort of natural magic. Instead of being fanned out and flat like the rest of them, this one, quite massive in size compared to all the rest, is rolled up into a very snug, very cozy little burrito, keeping the inside warm and protected from the elements. This is completely and absolutely necessary, because this little pocket of protective, nurturing magic is what has allowed this little symprite’s egg to remain warm and safe. It has gained the sparse sunlight that’s filtered through the thick trees, nutrients from the rain absorbed into the dead wood of the tree that it grows upon. Most of its life so far has been wrapped up safe and sound inside of the delicate, earth-stained mushroom in labyrinthe, and today it will venture forth from its protective little nest and the egg within, and start embracing the world around it.

Slowly, little by little, the mushroom unfurls itself like a flag taken inside for the winter now being put out with the dawn of spring. Any normal trametes versicolor would have snapped and been broken from even attempting to roll itself up like that, but none of these other mushrooms have been touched with magic like this one has.

It continues to carefully unfurl, taking its time until it has assumed its shelved form on the fallen tree with the rest of the mushroom troop, and there, sitting on top of it, is a symprite egg, with gentle cracked lines spanning across its shape. Time passes slowly as the egg continues to crack further, soon resulting in pieces of shell wobbling from their former housing, and falling off completely. It isn’t a fast process, but it’s a beautiful one to watch.

At long last, the final pieces of eggshell fall away to the bayou floor, ready to become nutrients for the earth below, and the newly-hatched baby symprite rubs their eyes, and then their tiny mouth opens in a big yawn as it raises their arms over their head, doing a big stretch to really wake themselves up from their formerly lifelong nap.

After sleepily smacking their lips a few times– and rubbing their eyes once more– the symprite finally opens them, their eyes as bright raspberry as their body’s accenting, nested perfectly against bright grey and white. They initially squint for the first few minutes at the natural light, not yet quite sure what to make of it just yet, but not entirely opposed to it, either.

Blinking a couple times at intervals, the symprite draws in a deep breath, their tiny mouth hanging open as they sit there on top of the large mushroom, completely and utterly besotted with the scene around them. What a beautiful sight to behold, especially for the first thing to ever be seen by a newly-hatched individual such as this little one.

Legs dangling off the edge of the mushroom they’re sitting on, the symprite rocks back and forth, their biote flicking lazily behind them. So many unrealized questions are whirling around in their head, muted thoughts of wondering where in the world they are, if they’re alone in the woods, if it’s morning or nighttime. They’re all questions that will be answered at some point or another, but it’s not the most pressing concern right now. For the time being, they’re content to sit here and simply stare and the universe that continues to unfold around them like pages of a storybook slowly writing themselves to life, and it’s going to become a tale of a symprite called Anya.