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Beneath the Bark
The passage was narrower than Gertrude liked.
Remy strode ahead, his paws light on the rotten floor. Gertrude stumbled behind, her wings tucked between the burl walls. The scent was peculiar—of wet earth, resin, and something else... something older. The silence was thick as fog. Then, suddenly, the passage widened, and they entered a chamber. A vaulted space, round like the inside of a nut. The walls were made of living bark, which rippled gently with each step. Glowing mushrooms grew in furrows, and luminous spores danced through the air like tiny fireflies. A gnarled root spiraled up the center, and on top of it: a stone base. And on top of it: a box. Simple. Made of wood. No lock. No inscription. Just... waiting. Gertrude stepped closer. "This doesn't look like gold." Remy shrugged. "Maybe it's a voucher." They were just about to touch the box when a shimmer emerged from the walls – a being formed: half tree, half animal. Antlers of fern. Eyes of amber. The body was made of wood, moss, and shimmering light. A voice sounded – not loud, but palpable in their chests: "You have shown courage, kept your word and your riddle. But before you take, you must know what you seek. For this treasure is not made of gold, but of memory, bond, and truth." Remy swallowed. Gertrude was silent. The fox stepped forward. "Then let us see." He opened the box. No glitter. No gold. Only: a rolled-up scroll, wrapped with a red ribbon. He untied it. On it was written: "For the one who walks with wit and wind, who tricks with his tongue, yet protects a friend – the true treasure is not what you hold, but who still walks beside you." They stood still. For a long time. Then Remy laid the scroll back. Gertrude looked at him. "That was... beautiful." "It was," he murmured. "And a little eerie." When they turned around, the chamber was silent. The mushrooms glowed softly. The entrance was open, the light beyond brighter than before. They stepped out—not richer in things, but perhaps richer in something more important.
