The Forest Has Scars

“Do you ever wonder if trees know when their branches are broken from a storm? Or if a woodpecker goes too deep?”

Morgan stood up quickly.

“I mean, given what we know about the laminae and eidolons. everything that’s matter, matters”

He continued, “So how do we know trees arent just appendiges for an eidolon? Just a piece of something larger, appearing and coagulating into our reality, defined by us as a tree.”

Drake fumbled around for his vape, he knew morgan was about to get me to stress test one of his theories.

“I mean, when you or I get a scab, it heals, so what if a storm is an explanation for a laminae event as well?”

“And that,” he hurriedly added, “if a tree falls in a storm or it gets snapped halfway up the trunk, is that like a scar to an eidolon?”

I interrupted, “Maybe it’s an organ, or like an eidolons hair…”

Morgan stared, though I don’t know if it was a stare of contempt or intense concentration on my suggestion.

“Y’know, like, what if the tree is a cilia in it’s lungs or something?”

“What the fuck is a cilia, Drake?”

“Damnit Morgz, you never paid attention in Mrs. Bryan’s science class”

“I was too busy trying to keep up with Dad keeping up with you”

“And all I wanted was a normal life.”

Morgan let out a gruff unghh
The kind of exhale through your nose, a quick verbalization arising from your throat, but stop yourself from continuing whatever you wanted to say.
Either because you were speechless or you just knew the conversation had no hope.
Some things were just unfixable.
Like being born a hunter. No one in their right mind would choose this life, ragged motel room to ragged motel room, cheap food, cheap coffee, and no excuses, no backing out, no tiring.

“Well now that you’ve ruined the moment of brotherhood, let’s try to figure out where the coven is at before it gets to late.”

A hunters job was never over.