Jarushii

Jarushii carefully adjusted their tactical goggles, ignoring the distant sounds of feasting from the village clearing. Their sibling, Ragika, appeared through the amber-leaved canopy, holding out a roasted sweetroot. "You'll miss the whole celebration," Ragika sighed, their voice gentle. "What hunger drives you out here every night?" Jarushii didn't answer, only pointed toward the gnarled roots of an ancient tree. A patch of lichen pulsed with a soft, internal light, seeming to breathe in the twilight. Jarushii had been charting these growths for weeks, their appetite for answers far stronger than any need for food. "This one is different," they whispered, a tremor of awe in their voice. "It's… listening." Ignoring Ragika's warning, they reached out, the pulsing light reflecting a silent, unasked question in their lenses.