Pan was off and running through another festival, dancing through the meadow with his basket in hand, picking the most beautiful flowers he could find. Around his neck, an otter draped like a cape, chittering happily as he lounged in the dappled spring sunlight, braiding little bits of blossom into Pan’s long cream-hued mane. The boy laughed merrily as he waved to strangers and friends alike, taking great joy in the company of others, and greater joy in the fact that winter snows had melted at long last.
He weaves in and out of the Terrestellan’s planted rows of flowers, retrieving some wild plants along with his bouquet, venturing further than he probably should into the field. There was just too much to see, he decided, wanting to know everything there was to know about the foreign land. His curiosity edged ahead of him as he brushed through tall grasses, weaving his way to a tall bunch of Wraithgrass with interest – for the plant was nearly as tall as he was, and looked to be furry to the touch.
No one was around the boy to warn him as he reached out to touch it, leaping back as trichomes stung him at the site and he released a howl of confused pain. He stumbles away from the grass, the stinging lingering as muscles began to bunch around the place where he had touched the grass. They roiled and twisted, seeming to contract and release at random, the pain of it rendering him unable to walk as he stumbles toward a clearing in the trees.
Tears sting at his eyes as his stomach begins to churn, almost as if he had eaten something which made him sick, but there seemed to be no relief in sight. Oliver… find… help…. Pan whimpered as he curled his body into itself, closing his eyes tightly to avoid the flash of colors which edged at his vision, even as the world seemed to roar around him. With a chirrup of concern, the otter scampered away, eager to find help for his scaled friend from anyone who might be able to shed some light on his strange predicament.
@any
