Silence filled the hut after that.
The plants all seemed to still; it was as if the world had frozen in time for a few tense moments.
Then the world tree spoke, its voice trembling and afraid. Yet beneath its fear was something else, a cold acceptance. It spoke of being willing to give itself up if it meant protecting him. The simplicity of that willingness struck deeper than the old man's words and made his throat tighten and eyes sting.
The spike bushes rustled faintly soon after, promising sharper thorns and to be better defenders while the cacti pulsed a sentiment of agreement. The vines, reluctant and displeased, whispered that they could restrain themselves if it was for him, in the manner of a child asking for forgiveness.
They told him they would eat less and grow slower if that would help. Even the cloud tree, distant and soft, asked what it could change or do for him so that he didn't destroy one of their kin.
"No." The word left Chris's lips before he even realized it.
The old man didn't react, though; instead he simply kept his gaze fixed on him.
"I won't destroy it, or any of them," Chris said again, far stronger than before. "They protected us! Regardless of what happened last night, they stood their ground and were the reason we survived it! I can't kill them for doing what I made them do. I messed up and all of this was because of me! I can't have them suffer for my mistakes and impulsive actions or have you blame them for what I've done."
"You miscalculated and acted rashly," the old man began, his tone dry. "And it nearly got us both killed, even if some of those things were grown with my urging, so I do take partial fault." His gaze flicked to the bandage on his thigh. "But you froze when that wolf lunged and then fainted moments after." He raised his head and narrowed his eyes once more. "When something stronger comes—and something will come—what then? Will you grow something worse? Something you can't control? Are you going to let fear control and dictate your actions again?"
Each word landed without heat, just resignation, which seemed to make it worse.
Chris clenched his hands until his knuckles whitened but didn't argue.
"You're right." He admitted softly. "All my actions have been driven by fear so far." He continued, voice growing steady. "I didn't think. I planted the world tree because I wanted safety, thinking it would magically create a safe haven. I grew the vines because I wanted something that could rip apart whatever scared me, with the intent of being violent and aggressive defenders after the world tree proved to need a lot more time than I had originally thought to be effective. I wasn't thinking about balance or consequences or what they could do. Instead, I was just acting out of fear and the desire to live, to survive this hell!"
The old man said nothing, instead just listened to each word, letting out small grunts at times while judging him quietly.
"And that's the problem," Chris continued, forcing himself to meet the old man's eyes. "All of that is on me, not them, and it needs to change."
"I won't destroy them," he said with finality. "Instead, I'm going to try and stop letting fear control me. I need to be the one in control with a clear purpose for my actions beyond just fear. From now on when I plant something, it won't be out of fear or self-preservation but rather with a clear purpose and necessity, things that don't just destroy or grow without end for the sake of it without any other use."
The old man studied him for a long moment, clearly searching for something, and he seemed to find whatever it was he was looking for in Chris's hard gaze as he soon nodded slowly.
"How many seeds do you have left?" he demanded.
"One hundred and seventy-one left; eight grew what you see around us, and then there was that one that was eaten," Chris began, his tone turning sour at remembering the loss. "Two strangler vines, two cacti, and two spike bushes. I grew them in pairs since to have a good spread. Then there's the cloud tree and world tree, who are both still growing." He continued before pausing, his brow furrowing. "The vines can reliably reach two huts over if they stretch for length but can only catch anything half a hut away with utmost confidence from what they just told me. The spike bushes, though..." He paused, trying to make sense of what they had just told him. "They've multiplied. A lot." He added with a slight wince.
"How many are there now?" The old man asked sternly with a frown.
"Fifteen so far and more slowly growing. They say they're keeping their spread limited and need to be strictly instructed since they aren't as smart and need a lot more attention to actually grow."
The old man's brows shot upward as he heard that. "That's not normal, lad. They're supposed to spread, sure, but that fast?"
"I figured that, but they're sharing space at least, and since learning to move, they claim they will keep out of your way. They seem rather cooperative." He added lamely.
"That just makes it worse, then," the old man muttered with a huff. "Plants don't move on their own, lad, or behave like any of these things do. Not even the magical plants do that! Even the ents and their ancient counterparts are bound to where they grow and can't move more than their branches without outside help."
"If we're keeping it and your other… creations," the old man said evenly after a beat of silence, clearly thinking about what was happening and transpiring. His gaze lingering on the world tree, "then you will need to keep your word. No more experiments. You only grow plants with purpose, and even then you plan it out with extreme care!" He said before hitting Chris with his walking stick. "And for god's sake, no more mythical plants unless we have no other choice! You will follow my directions and orders from now on as well, understand?"
"Yes," Chris replied immediately and stiffly as he tried to stand straighter. "We work with purpose, and I will listen to whatever you tell me and maybe learn about things besides being a caretaker?" He added tentatively.
The old man studied him carefully at that, seemingly considering his words. "And when something bigger comes? Will you try to grow more vines to try and overwhelm it or create something worse? Will you let fear grip and control your actions once more just because you don't want to die?" He pressed, ignoring Chris's question and instead firing off a range of his own to try and reaffirm his convictions.
Chris looked at him, then towards the horizon beyond the huts, to the cliffs where the dungeon rested, then to the distance where they made their 'offering'. A shiver running through him as a hint of fear rushed through him before a fire stirred inside him to harden his resolve. "I can't say I won't get scared." He began. "But that means we have to plan properly for anything that might happen so that fear won't be the driving force behind my actions. Perhaps plant a variety of plants that would work well with what we currently have? We will also need food producers or medical plants as a contingency at some point. I promise I will try to be better, no, that I will be better…"
The old man snorted faintly. "Don't promise to be better, ya idiot. Just be smarter from now on and stop letting fear rule you! Fear means you're alive, but you can't let it drive your every move, lad; you need to either control it or press on despite feeling it."
Chris nodded slowly, taking the old man's words to heart as the tension eased slightly, though the unease still hung thickly in the air.
"I can teach you about the plants I know," the old man finally said. "And I'll dig out what books I've still got. They might be useless if you can't read the script, but maybe the pictures could help you understand them with my guidance."
"If I can recreate a world tree, maybe I can recreate other documented plants that existed in legend or fiction, stuff that's died out." He said in thought, earning a glare from the old man. "But things that won't try to kill us or make things worse!" He hurriedly added.
"Tch. Fine, but you don't grow anything without fully knowing what it is and can do, lad; those vines are proof enough of how dangerous things can be if you don't understand what they should be. We don't need more problems, even if that one was partly my fault." His words made Chris flinch.
"Umm, about that," he said hesitantly, earning an annoyed look from the old man. "What now?" he demanded sharply.
"Well, the cloud tree's whispering about something watching." He began, and by the way the old man stiffened, he no doubt realized what that meant.
"It said the smell of red stirred its interest, but we're too below its notice to care?" The old man's expression hardened at that as he looked at Chris far more angry and annoyed now.
"I really am starting to wonder if you were sent as some twisted way of punishing me before I die." He said, and Chris couldn't tell if he was joking or not.