Scene: "Roots of Recovery"
Location: Verdant Grove Training Spot, Daylight broken by leaves overhead
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Fern knelt beside a wilted squirrel she found near a crooked root, its small body barely breathing. Her druid staff glowed faintly at her side, and soft threads of green energy flowed from her fingertips.
Oliver stood nearby, arms crossed, watching with curiosity and a little concern.
> "You can grow forests," he said, "even float and summon storms… but healing—that's what I want to learn. Especially if we're going to help people who've never fought before."
Fern didn't answer right away.
Instead, her green Vita wrapped the creature like a gentle mist. Its limbs twitched faintly, and then—after a pause—it slowly blinked and scrambled upright, scurrying into a bush.
She exhaled and finally spoke.
> "Healing isn't like building or burning, Oliver. It's… complicated. The body is a symphony. One wrong note and the whole melody collapses."
Oliver knelt beside her.
> "Then show me the first note."
Fern nodded slowly. She extended her hand and motioned toward him.
> "Give me your hand."
He offered it.
Fern placed two fingers on his wrist.
> "Feel your pulse. Every beat is a rhythm your body listens to. Vita has to echo that rhythm—not override it."
Oliver focused. He summoned a slow glow of blue Vita, channeling it into his hand.
But Fern frowned.
> "Stop."
The energy dispersed.
> "Too sharp. Your Vita is still trying to take control, not accompany. That'll strain the body, not mend it."
She then lifted her staff and gently tapped it on a sprouting flower beside them.
> "Plants don't shout to grow. They listen. They respond. Healing is... giving your energy permission to become someone else's strength. Not forcing it."
Oliver nodded, more serious now.
> "So it's not giving energy, it's offering it."
Fern offered the faintest of smiles.
> "Exactly."
She then stood and raised her arms. From above, the trees rustled—a soft rain began to fall, even though the sky above the canopy was clear.
> "Druidic weather," she murmured. "It calms the Vita… and the mind."
Oliver let the light rain fall across his arms.
> "I'll try again. Show me as many times as it takes."
Fern nodded.
> "Good. You'll need it when real wounds come."
She glanced into the woods, where other Travelers trained and the distant whisper of the future danger—the Land Beast—loomed.
> "And they'll come."
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Scene: "The Wild Within"
Location: Forest cliffs near the outer border of Riven's camp, just after midday
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A wind swept through the towering pines as Oliver and Fern made their way along a sharp ridge overlooking a ravine. The moss-covered stones beneath them were slick from recent light rain—Fern's druidic weather still lingering.
Suddenly—
> "HELP!!"
A distant cry echoed through the trees.
Oliver turned sharply.
> "That came from the south slope."
Fern's green eyes narrowed. Without hesitation, she sprinted toward the voice, staff in hand. Oliver followed, ducking low branches and vaulting roots.
They arrived to a steep edge—broken earth and collapsed stones led down into a deep ravine.
A young Traveler, barely more than a white-ranked boy with a scuffed uniform, was dangling by one arm from a fractured root halfway down the cliff.
> "Please—!" he gasped, legs kicking into empty air.
Oliver stepped forward, uncertain.
> "We can't reach him without rope—"
But Fern had already stepped back.
She closed her eyes.
Green Vita surged around her form in shimmering arcs, swirling like vines in the wind.
Her cloak fluttered—
Her body shifted, twisted gently like melting leaves—
And suddenly, she wasn't Fern.
She was a silver-furred falcon, wings bursting wide, feathers glowing faintly green with residual Vita.
Oliver stumbled back, startled, as the druid-bird lifted off, sailing gracefully into the air, wind curling beneath her.
She dove sharply.
In seconds, she swooped down past the boy, shifting mid-air—half-bird, half-human a very attractive form, one arm now reformed enough to grasp his wrist.
The young Traveler gasped.
> "Wh-WHAT?!"
Fern grunted, her hybrid form straining as her talon-feet clutched a rooted vine higher up the cliffside. She braced herself and then, with a grunt of force, tossed the boy upward just enough for him to scramble over the edge.
Oliver grabbed him and pulled him up fully.
When he turned back, Fern was already at the edge of the cliff, reforming back into her human shape, the green Vita threads retracting into her skin like vines into soil.
She adjusted her gloves and looked down at her sleeves. Still dry.
> "You're safe now," she said simply.
The boy, stunned, nodded rapidly.
> "T-Thank you… I thought I was done for."
Oliver watched her, awe visible in his eyes.
> "You were a falcon," he muttered. "You flew."
Fern glanced sideways at him with that faint, unreadable half-smile.
> "One of many."
Oliver raised a brow.
> "Wait—how many can you become?"
Fern looked forward, stepping past him.
> "Enough to know the world never truly ends at the edge of a cliff."
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Scene: "The Whispering Grove"
Location: Deep forest trail under sun-dappled canopies, post-rescue from ravine
---
The sunlight filtered softly through the towering trees, painting the path ahead in shifting hues of gold and green. Birds cooed lazily in the canopy above. Fern and Oliver walked side by side—quiet, for once without urgency.
Oliver turned slightly, hands in his hoodie pockets, his white mask hanging from his hip.
> "So… Fern," he asked casually, "you're from the Emerald Woods, right?"
Fern nodded, her steps quiet and precise on the soft soil.
> "Yes. A realm blanketed in perennial growth. It's… peaceful. But wild."
She tapped on her Systematic device and brought up a glowing green energy map, a living chart with flowing ley-lines that pulsed through the shape of a vast jungle realm. The trees appeared to breathe.
> "The Emerald Woods are a nexus point. One of the oldest biodiverse regions. It's where I was awakened."
Oliver studied the screen, whistling.
> "Awakened? Not born?"
Fern looked at him, her face calm and unreadable as always.
> "Druids don't… begin like others. Our class is innate. Bound to the core of our world. We awaken when the planet needs us."
Oliver furrowed his brows.
> "Wait. So being a druid… that's your race?"
Fern stopped walking. The leaves rustled gently as if in anticipation.
She turned to him.
> "No," she said softly. "A druid is not a race. It's a calling. A class of nature-bonded beings, chosen by the Verdant Code itself."
Oliver blinked.
> "Then what are you, Fern?"
She hesitated. The woods around them grew a touch quieter, even the birds pausing. Fern slowly reached forward and placed two fingers on Oliver's lips, silencing his next breath.
Her voice was gentle.
> "Keep that part quiet."
She leaned in slightly.
> "I'm a dragonic plant-kin. A descendant of the ancient plant dragons—energy-based lifeforms that took root across nature's purest places."
Oliver's eyes widened.
> "A… dragon?"
Fern's eyes sparkled faintly with green light.
> "Technically. A hybrid. My true form… doesn't look too different from this—" she gestured to herself "—only longer hair… more glowing. And yes, I have a dragonic form when needed. And a full Vita form, made entirely of energy."
She looked forward again and continued walking as if nothing had changed.
Oliver caught up, still stunned.
> "Wait, wait… so you could burn down a city if you wanted?"
Fern gave a small smile.
> "I'd rather reforest it."
Oliver let out a short, surprised laugh.
> "Of course you would."
> "Besides," she added, glancing sideways, "just because I can transform doesn't mean I should. You don't need to be terrifying to be powerful, Oliver."
He nodded slowly, now looking at Fern in a different light.
Not just a druid… but something ancient. A walking secret rooted in the soil of time.
> "Thanks for trusting me with that."
Fern gave a small nod.
> "Don't make me regret it."
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