Stretch

The more I grow, the more I feel the world is not even.

Some soil is soft.

Some heavy.

Some holds water like a secret.

Some is dry no matter how deep I reach.

But there's one direction—north, I think—where the soil feels… cooler.

Another, westward, buzzes faintly with the scent of moss.

Not a scent exactly, but an impression left in the soil itself.

Green. Wet. Breathing. Alive.

And below me, if I stretch downward—there's pressure.

Heat.

A kind of humming silence, like the ground is holding its breath.

I don't know where I'm supposed to go.

No system message tells me.

No instinct shouts over the others.

So I listen. 

Where should I look?

And after a long, quiet pause—

I choose.

I grow west.

Not suddenly.

Not like when I extend a vine to brush the surface.

This is slower.

Root growth.

Deeper.

Wider.

It's jarring, not being able to see. Just feeling the world round me. Following instinct more than thought.

My system doesn't speak, but I sense it tracking me.

Measuring the angle, the length.

The reach.

⊹ System Log: Growth Monitoring ⊹

Root Network Expansion: +7.2 cm (Westward)

Soil Texture Response: Variable

Moisture Absorption: Normal

Vine Extension: Stable

Anchor Points: Holding

They are not the same.

The vine is curiosity, maybe limbs?

The roots are me.

And as I move westward, my roots explore the soil like water seeping into cracks—slow, patient, and searching.

The deeper I push into this direction, the more I notice subtle textures in the ground.

Some places sing back to me.

Others are quiet—so quiet it feels like they've never been touched by anything living.

Then, my root brushes something strange.

Not a creature.

Not a tree.

But a kind of thick web of growth.

Dense. Green. Weaving into itself.

Moss.

But not just a patch.

A wall.

A wall of it.

It isn't like the others I've touched.

This one's grown deliberately.

Its shape curves—vertical, tight-knit, formed.

Like it was made to seal something off.

I press my root against it.

It doesn't yield.

And that's when I feel it—

a faint ripple, almost like a heartbeat, but behind the wall.

Something vast lies past this barrier.

Something that feels open.

I stay there for a moment.

No alerts.

No messages.

Just the sense that I've reached the edge of something I never knew I was inside of.