Look, I wasn't trying to offend anyone. I was just tired, okay?
The floating map screen kept flashing some weird exclamatory symbol in a boxing ring, labeled:
"Thornknight Bramble – 1.2 km North."
I'd already hiked up a hill, got nearly tongue-slapped by a carnivorous bush, and tripped on a vine that definitely laughed at me.
So when I saw a big root sticking out like a natural bench, complete with weird purple fruits dangling from the branches above, I took it as a sign from the universe that I was allowed to sit down for a minute.
"Finally," I sighed, collapsing my backpack beside me. "One moment of peace—"
Something smacked the back of my head.
I blinked, reached up slowly, and found a small branch twitching in place like it was trying to decide whether to slap me again.
"Barry…" I said carefully. "Did the tree just hit me?"
Barry spun and swayed once before me, like a confused shrug. I turned toward the trunk, which had several… oddly face-shaped knots.
And then, because this planet is completely ridiculous, the tree spoke.
"You're too heavy. Get off me."
I froze.
"What?" I asked, confused.
"You heard me, Rootcrusher. I'm ornamental. Not load-bearing. Do I look like an ergonomic sitting stump to you?"
"I…uh…didn't realize you could talk."
"I didn't realize humans had the bone density of a collapsing house."
"Wow," I said, standing up slowly. "This tree is spicier than Shiv."
Barry flickered a soft blue glow that I now recognized as his color, he was agreeing with me.
"I was just resting."
"Rest somewhere else. Preferably far away from my circulatory root network."
I blinked at the purple fruit above.
"Are those edible?"
"Yes, but I'm still mad, so they're out of season."
"Of course they are."
A small notification appeared on my Bota Watch screen.
Name: Sarcatree
Type: Food source (rare. One of the three Food course plant)
Importance: Very Important
I turned to Barry, sighed, and grabbed my backpack.
"Let's go before I get sued by a tree for emotional damage."
But then the fruits are too tempting.
So there were exactly three known trees on this walking salad-bowl of a planet that gave edible fruit.
I'd just found one.
"Can I have at least one? I want to taste it."
"No! You're rude!"
"I already said sorry!" I huffed.
"Yes," it said with audible disdain, "and your apology was as light as your brain."
I gave it my most dramatic look of hunger.
"Look, I've had three protein bars, half a vine pod, and a dangerously chewy mushroom this week. Just one fruit—ONE. Come on, Tree Dad."
"Disrespecting my title now? Unbelievable."
It turned its bark. Somehow. How does a tree turn away from someone? And that's when things got worse.
Blaze, my newest companion and source of constant chaos, had appeared out of nowhere: sharp as a bouquet of flying razors. The vine-ball he usually carried in his mouth was missing, and his tail swished like a misfiring blender.
"Blaze, no. Don't—"
It was too late. With a hiss like a teapot, he jumped up and scratched a glowing claw mark across the tree's trunk.
Blaze chirped proudly, his leafy tail flicking with satisfaction.
Sacratree screeched.
"YOU INSOLENT GRASS-FLEA!"
I panicked.
"WAIT! He didn't mean it! He's just... aggressively affectionate!"
Blaze strutted back over, licked his paw like nothing happened, and looked at me like: You're welcome.
Then I noticed something: Blaze had dropped my last protein bar.
Suspicious.
And he kept glancing at it.
Wait...
Was this tiny razor plant trying to distract me with fruit drama just to steal my food stash?
"Blaze," I whispered, "was this your plan all along?"
He blinked slowly.
I turned to Sacratree, who was now fuming literal pollen puffs.
"I swear, I had no part in that. He's freelance."
"You invite weaponized weeds into my grove, and now you expect fruit?"
And yet, even while it spoke, one violet fruit fell to the ground—clean, unbruised, and glistening like forbidden treasure.
"Fine. Take it and leave before I mulch all of you."
Blaze immediately snatched it up in his jaws and plopped it at my feet like a cat gifting a bird. His eyes sparkled.
"No," I said, "you can't have this. You caused war."
Blaze growl, offended, and flicked his tail like he totally had other plans now.
"Fine, you can have the protein bar. Happy?"
He tackled it like a wild gremlin.
Okay, yes. I had fruit. One precious, squishy Violet Glory. But survival isn't about one juicy bite, it's about sustainability. Food now was fine. But food later? Critical.
And right now, my Bota Watch had just given me the most morally questionable alert I've seen all day:
"To cultivate Sacratree:
Required component: 1 Mature Branch Segment (not fruit).
Warning: Tree may retaliate."
I stared at the fruit in my hand, then back up at the 12-foot tall grumpy tree who was still muttering profanities in chlorophyll.
"Of course it's not the fruit," I grumbled. "Why would it ever be the fruit?"
Blaze, meanwhile, was mid-roll in protein bar crumbs and vine bits, blissfully unaware that I was planning a felony in the forest court.
"Hey, buddy," I whispered, crouching beside him. "I need your slashing services again."
He perked up instantly, ears twitching, claws extending with terrifying enthusiasm.
"No, no, not like last time. I need precision, not a bark massacre."
Blaze tilted his head.
I raised one eyebrow. Slowly. Dramatically. Intentionally. A signal we had somehow invented over the last two days.
He blinked, got it immediately, and slinked off like a ninja made of blades.
I turned back to the Sacratree, who was still sulking.
"Hey, Tree Daddy. Thanks again for the fruit! I'll plant the memory of your generosity in my heart forever."
"I hope termites find your boots," it snapped.
Blaze zipped up the tree faster than I could say agricultural ethics, gave the branch a surgical SLASH, and before the tree could even scream "FELONY!", we were running like thieves.
"THIEVES! LEAF LEECHERS! HERBAL HOOLIGANS!! YOU'LL NEVER GROW ANYTHING BUT SHAME!!"
Branches swung after us like furious bumerang, and leaves exploded from above like confetti from a very angry piñata.
"THIS IS YOUR FAULT!" I shouted at Blaze mid-sprint. He chirped proudly, stem tucked in his mouth like a cigar, looking like a feline mafia hitman on the run.
We finally stopped two groves over. Blaze dropped the branch-stem in front of me and sat like a proud houseplant that just committed a felony.
"You're insane," I wheezed, collapsing to the grass. He sneezed leaf on my foot and purred. And just like that, we had our first food-source crop starter.
Honestly? Totally worth the lifetime grudge of an immortal tree.