CHAPTER 29: CH 29: PLANT THIEVES - PART 2

A few days slipped by in the valley, the snowfall never ceasing, blanketing the world in its quiet stillness.

However, thanks to the blessing and protection of the world tree, the valley was much warmer and snow never saw the ground of the valley.

The new additions—the three wolf pups—were adapting quickly. Mira, ever serious once given a task, had taken to training them as if it were her personal mission.

Lucian often watched from a distance.

Today, as he stood near the edge of the valley, his sharp eyes found Mira in the middle of the clearing. She crouched low, speaking softly to the pups, her tone steady yet firm.

The three small wolves, though still clumsy in their movements, copied her gestures. When she gestured for them to pounce, they tried to leap. When she stood tall, they sat obediently, ears pricked forward, eyes locked on her.

Lucian’s gaze lingered on them.

The pups.

And Mira too.

But mainly the pups.

It wasn’t long before all four of them—Mira and the three wolves—turned their heads. Their alert eyes locked on him instantly.

Lucian froze.

The way they watched him wasn’t aggressive, nor hostile. But there was wariness in their gaze, a sense of instinctive caution.

It reminded him of something he had long buried in his past.

Those eyes.

Eyes filled with unshakable trust, loyalty, and expectation. He had seen them before—on his soldiers, his followers, the subordinates who once devoted their lives to him.

And time and time again, those were the very people who became the hardest to handle.

Trust, after all, was a blade. One that cut deep when it turned against you.

Lucian let out a slow breath, closing his eyes for a moment before he turned away.

"...Better not to get involved,"

He muttered to himself.

Leaving Mira and the pups to their training, he walked deeper into the valley. His destination: the protective plants he had carefully cultivated.

These plants weren’t ordinary. They were vicious, dangerous, and living fortresses that kept unwanted creatures out. Lucian had nurtured them for this very reason.

Yet when he arrived, his sharp eyes immediately caught something unusual.

The edges of the thick, spiny leaves were torn. Jagged marks lined their surface.

Chewed.

Lucian crouched low, brushing the damaged leaves with his fingertips. The marks were clear, unmistakable.

But the size of the bites...

Too small. Much too small. No predator beast would leave marks like these.

His brows furrowed. "What did this?"

He straightened, scanning the surroundings. The snow muffled everything, but Lucian’s senses were honed, and it didn’t take long before he caught it.

Something faint glimmered in the corner of his vision.

Nestled between the leaves of the predator plant, a small light pulsed softly, like a firefly caught in the branches.

Lucian stiffened. The plant should have devoured it immediately—anything that drew close, even insects, were swallowed without hesitation. Yet the plant remained still.

Almost... tolerant.

Curiosity stirred. Lucian stepped closer, moving carefully so as not to provoke the plant. His eyes narrowed as he studied the light, trying to discern its shape.

But the instant he leaned in, the glow trembled—then darted away in a streak of silver.

Lucian straightened, eyes following the tiny light as it vanished into the snowy forest.

"...Fast."

For a moment, he considered pursuing it. His instincts told him there was something more to that glow, something that directly connected to the bite marks on his plants.

But in the end, he exhaled and shook his head.

"It’s pointless. It’ll slip away again."

His attention turned back to the plant. The thick leaves had curled inward, settling into a dormant state. He brushed the snow aside to inspect them more closely.

There—where the light had been.

More bite marks. Fresh ones.

Lucian’s expression darkened. He pieced it together quickly.

That small light. It wasn’t harmless. It was the one gnawing at his defenses, biting into the predator plants as if feeding on them.

And if he wanted to understand why—or how—it was capable of such a thing, then there was no choice.

He would have to catch it.

Only then could he uncover the truth.

With a final glance at the plant, Lucian turned and walked back toward the valley.

______

The snow covered his tracks almost immediately.

The forest grew silent once more.

And then, when the presence of the human faded, the glow returned.

The tiny light fluttered back between the leaves, landing on the snow-dusted stem. Its body shivered, shaking off frost clinging to its wings. Slowly, its true form came into view.

A fairy.

Its glow dimmed as exhaustion set in. Fragile wings twitched, catching faint light, while its small frame trembled with the effort of movement.

It gathered the scraps it had managed to bite from the predator plant, bundling them into its thin arms.

With a faint hum, it lifted itself into the air, wings beating rapidly as it took flight.

The path was long, weaving between snow-laden trees, but the fairy didn’t stop.

At last, it reached a clearing.

There, dozens of faint lights flickered in the darkness.

More fairies.

They clustered together in the snow, their glow faint, almost fading. Most had empty hands, nothing to offer. Their wings drooped, their faces dim.

When the scavenger arrived, a stir ran through the group.

The scraps were dropped into the center, and immediately, the others swarmed forward.

Thin arms reached out desperately. The fragments vanished in seconds, divided among too many.

But it wasn’t enough. Not even close.

The fairies pulled back, their glow flickering weaker than before. Hunger clung to them like a shadow, their small forms trembling in the cold.

The one who had gathered lowered its head.

It had succeeded in bringing back food. But compared to the need of the entire group... it was nothing.

A heavy silence fell over the clearing. The snow drifted down endlessly, muffling their faint, almost soundless breaths.

They huddled together, wings folding, tiny lights pressed close for what little warmth they could share.

A colony.

Dying, starving, desperate.