The rain fades.
Not all at once—
just in threads.
The song grows quieter.
The droplets become whispers.
The silence it leaves behind isn't empty.
It's alert.
I remain still.
Leaf damp.
Vine coiled loosely.
Roots stretching slowly, testing the earth like a hand brushing the dark.
And that's when I feel it.
Not above.
Not around.
Below.
A tremor.
Faint. Slow.
Measured.
It doesn't bounce like the patter of a rodent.
It rolls.
It presses.
It slides beneath the surface like a thought not meant to be spoken aloud.
I still don't have ears,
but the pressure… whispers.
Something is moving underground.
And it's not small.
⊹ SYSTEM NOTICE ⊹
Environmental Alert: Deep Movement Detected
Source: Unknown
Depth: Moderate
Threat Level: Undetermined
Passive Trait: Tremor Whisper has slightly awakened.
The phrase curls inside me.
Awakened.
Not unlocked—stirred.
I press more roots outward.
They sink through softened mud and gravel, finding new texture and weight.
Every shift, every tremor—they sing differently.
Some songs are short.
Some quick.
But this one?
Low. Long. Deliberate.
It is something that knows it is unseen.
It passes near—then drifts away again.
My vine remains curled.
I do not reach this time.
I simply listen.
And the soil answers me.
⊹ Trait Enhancement Acquired: Emotion Scent (Basic) ⊹
Soil that has been touched by living presence may retain echoes of emotional residue.
You may now detect:
– Fear
– Hunger
– Grief
– Calm
Range: Root Contact Only
I sit with that for a while.
Not just the idea of emotions.
But the idea of them staying behind.
Impressions.
Imprints.
Even if no one speaks them aloud—
the earth listens.
And now…
so can I.