Pam's mouth wanted to tug into a wry little smile. It also wanted to become a frown. So it wound up somewhere in the middle.

"There was a time when the Green and I were almost one," she said. "I--" almost, "--could--" did, "--have brought cities to their knees with a thought, by stirring all the things that grew below."

A small filament of fungus curled outwards from her ear, forming a shape against her cheek.

"I miss it, sometimes," she said. "But this is probably less of a headache for all of you." A joke? Sort of. (She did miss it. All the little things that grow.)