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It had been a long journey. Varsha lay next to the spring with the aitielkh fawns under the full moon, reflecting on their life and all the steps they had taken to arrive here. They felt a bit out of place as a boring, grey-and-white adult Bepotelkh among the candy-coloured fawns, but they shook off the feeling of being an outsider and reminded themselves that the aitielkh were their home now. They felt deeply honoured to be included in the dream ceremony, and a...

Was that… smoke? Phosphor sniffed the air. His first sense was a deep, overwhelming smell of mushrooms, like sun-dappled forest floors and dark earthy caverns and secret damp corners. It was his favourite smell. But beneath the fungal scent was a persistent, acrid undertone. He wasn’t confident what it was, but it bothered him in a way he couldn’t shake....