With the pudgy, pale babe nestled between the thick threads of her beloved Body Plant, Fig ambled ever nearer to the sandy beach, eager to spread rolling arms beneath the nourishing light of the sun where no competing canopy might tangle with her own (or shade her effort). She picked a cautious path between the long, lean trunks of palm trees and kept her mahogany-hued eyes peeled all the while, for any insect that might suitably nourish the newborn she carried – that was what the winged wonders of the world fed upon naturally.

Though passing through the tall coastal forest was far easier than journeys made through those of World’s Edge, it was still slow going. The glossy, green leaves sprawled around her shook vigorously, often, as she pulled her lowest, farthest-spread limbs past each beige body, and she cringed and apologised when she heard the fronds above tremble in unison. Nevertheless, both were well accustomed to the ritual by now – it was a trip Fig made daily in response to the Sun’s cycle. She knew they were built soundly despite the slim nature of their length, and focused more on the safety of her Body Plant as she went.

Soon enough, the golden sands of Endless Blue welcomed her clumsy tread.

Heat radiated off the glistening substrate, and she was ever more thankful for the glorious shade supplied by the fig overhead. The day was hot, and beneath her heavy armour sweat poured from overheated skin – perhaps if it had been coral adorning her instead, she might have dipped right then into the cool rolling water. The steady roar of ocean crashing along the shoreline filled ear listening ears, and pale eyes traced the vanishing line of wet and froth all the way to the north until the jagged face of cliffs broke their path. Fig sighed deeply, and turned as the pasty hatchling stirred from his sleep.

“Well hello again,” mellow tones cooed gently, and her whiskered lips turned to nuzzle him where he lay, still curled up, in the makeshift nest she had created. Again his striking, unusual appearance took her by surprise and so too did the strangely plump feeling of his body beneath her touch – naturally she had expected something scrawnier, bony... Though she pulled away suddenly, there was naught but warmth radiating from the smiled wrought throughout her expression. “That egg kept you well, didn’t it! she chortled tenderly. “Well, I am sure you are hungry all the same...”

There was a sudden chorus of raised voices nearby – not frivolous or friendly – and Fig’s large, furry ears danced backwards instantly. Her face lifted swiftly towards the commotion and there was (further down the beach) a great procession of bodied. Nostrils purged a wary snort, and she could see despite the distance, a small force was gathering to their front – challenging their march, she presumed – though she was reluctant to join their cause. She was not built like the much smaller, more agile Helovian population, and certainly the Lignea knew nothing about combat, fighting or anything so aggressive. Her kind dwelled in peace and upheld at all times, harmony through Prim’sylva and balance.

So she lingered upwind and watched, one ear trained to the babe behind – whose tiny brown eyes gazed bewilderedly at the wilderness around him.

fig