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View character profile for: Harriet Martha Lane
The ground roiled and twisted. Tiny claws attached to slim arms reach out from the muck and mire. I can't go back. I plunge my hand into the loam. It's time to go in.
I reach deep. My hand struggles against loam, fighting against the soil and the dirt. I reach deep. I reach deep... into the Green. Guttural Gaelic rolls out of my mouth as I push through "fern," past "teal," and into "hunter," and then... contact.
I feel calm, serene. I pass on a warning then the Green takes care of its own.
"Thank you" is not the right term for what passes through my heart, but I do sense a gratitude. When I open my eyes I see cave walls covered in black muck, massive carrot tops perch above even larger, full grown carrots. Like white blood cells, the Green only needed to be made aware of the infection before it would take care of its own.
I make my way back to the mouth of the cave ready to tell Mallory he could plan an early harvest.