Tinkleaf Gearsprout's Arc

Chapter 1 of 4

Tinkleaf Gearsprout knelt in the dirt and watched his ninth sprout die. He was a gnome, half flesh and half machine, with copper wire threaded through his roots and a heart that ticked like a clock. He wanted one thing: to grow a living grove, part plant and part gear, that could think and share what it learned. But the plants needed rich soil to root. This soil was gray dust. His tiny seedling curled brown and dropped, same as the eight before it. He pressed a metal finger to the ground and read it. Dead. No worms, no water, no life. He lived in a snug mushroom house with thick roots curling into the earth, and even those roots strained to hold. If the ground could not feed his grove, the grove would never wake. "Try the low patch by the door," said a voice from his belt. His sword hung there, and it had a silver face with round eyes and a wide, goofy grin. It glowed faintly in the shade. "Roots love the shade. Trust me. I've watched a lot of dirt." "You've watched me fail nine times," Tinkleaf said. But he dragged his tools to the low patch anyway. He drove his spade in and hit something soft. Not stone. A hollow. He dug fast. Warm air breathed up from the hole. Below the dead crust lay a second layer, dark and damp, threaded with pale fungus. A small mushroom creature blinked up at him, no taller than his hand, with a rounded cap and a shy smile. It waved. "Hello," Tinkleaf said softly. The little sprite pointed down into the dark, then scampered off along a root. Tinkleaf followed with a lantern. The tunnel opened into a chamber under his own home. Fungus glowed on every wall. The floor was black earth, rich and alive, fed by the mushroom cap above for years. His heart ticked faster. This was it. He scooped a handful and smelled rot and growth together. He planted his tenth seedling right there in the dark loam. It took. Green pushed up within minutes, curling around a strand of his copper wire like it knew him. The sprout drank the soil and did not wither. Tinkleaf laughed out loud. "Told you," the sword said. Then the glow dimmed. Far down the tunnel, something wet dragged itself closer. A shape rose into the lantern light: a huge fungal thing with a fleshy cap split by rows of teeth. Red tendrils slid across the floor toward his new sprout. The rich soil was not empty. Something already lived here, and it was hungry. The sprite shrieked and hid behind Tinkleaf's boot. He drew his sword. The teeth opened wide. "New plan," Tinkleaf whispered. He had found his ground at last. Now he had to keep it.