A Treant's Reading Corner
rating: +4+x

You have been walking through endless aisles of books for hours. You spot a small open area with colourful couches and a coffee table in the middle. Finally, you can get some rest. You make your way to the couch, dreading sitting down on a comfortable surface. Wait, someone is sitting on one couch — a yellow treant with no eyes and two big antennae. Their elbows seem to have appendages resembling branches. An intimidating figure, if it weren’t for the goofy smile and their attire being just some plain, grey sweatpants. They raise their head to you as they hold an open book.

“Howdy, Wanderer. I didn’t notice you there,” they say.

You wave back at them, but only silence follows. They can’t see you, they have no eyes. They’re reading a book, though. Maybe you should say something. However, you’d rather wait for them to break this uncomfortable silence.

“So, um. What’s your name?”

“Nice to meet you. My name is Nyelo Takaros, but you can call me Takaros.”

They grab a coffee cup and sip. Weird. Can treants even eat ordinary food? Someone would expect them to feed on water, nutrients, and sunlight. You look down at the table. There are a few books and a paper bag filled with food. Your stomach roars. All this thinking has awakened your stomach. You can’t just ask them for food right away. You need to improvise some small talk first.

“What are those books over there?” you ask.

You point at the books resting on the table. They vaguely tilt their head towards them and then back to you.

“Only some books that I’ve borrowed. Feel free to take a look.”

You inspect the books meticulously.



It doesn't matter. Who would read these, anyway? You choose a random book and sit down next to Takaros, pretending to read. You wait for a bit, going through the pages of the book. And now, it's your chance. You can finally ask them.

"Excuse me, Mx. Takaros. Could I have some of that?"

You point at the bag of food, still unsure of what's in it. You're so hungry you'd eat whatever is in there. The treant glances at the food for a split second. They seem to think about it for a moment.

"Go get your own."

They pick up the bag from the table and put them between their root-like legs, protected from any snatchers. Shit.

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