Kush Clan Plantations (Farmland)

Through the haze of his own smoke, Haile studies Tommy.  It speaks fast, the furry little thing, though the giant could only understand every other word it says.  That's one tally in the column for it being a person, not a pet.  But then it says it used to wear a spiked collar.  So one tally for pet.

He listens to the pet/person ask its questions.  "What I eat?"  Haile's inhales deeply from his spliff.  "What I grow up in the holler.  Sometimes I barbecue wild cats and dogs, too."  He exhales, creating a large cloud of smoke in the air above Tommy.  "Keeps the population in check."

The old giant chuckles.  It isn't entirely false.  He had barbecued a dog once, a long time ago.  But he is beginning to suspect this Tommy creature was more of a person than a pet.  Might as well joke around with it.

Clio returns and gives her own gift.  It's her Snow White.  Haile tries to remember something.  His smoking helps with that.  Yes, he remembers.  Clio had been working on a new strain.  She'd been splicing and breeding for a while now, he recalls.  Snow White, huh?  It looks pretty.

"Thank you, Clio," he says.  "I know exactly what to do with this."  He sniffs the Snow White and places it inside his pouch.  

But then something catches his eye.  He hadn't completely emptied the pouch earlier.  How could he have missed that?

"Clio, I wonder if you'll be able to help me with something."

Clio smiles at Tommy's response. She then looked up at Haile as it seemed he had a request. "Oh yeah? What is it, Haile? I could try my best to help."

"Oof!" Clio takes the chest and struggles to stay standing. She placed the chest down on the ground and crouched down to take a look at the lock, trying to figure out how simple or complex it was. "I may be able to."

Clio grabs two metal bits that she'd use to attempt to pick the lock, one straight and the other bent. She slips the both pieces inside to gets to work trying to figure out the mechanism, keeping her ear close to the lock to listen for the clicking of the lock. She's not practiced at this though and isn't confident enough to continue without breaking her tools.

"This is difficult..." Clio looks over to Tommy and thinks to herself. She decides to ask Tommy for help. "Tommy! Do you think you could help me? You can hear real good right? I need help unlocking this chest."

Two pairs of eyes were fixated upon Tommy now, which made his heart race like a poodle. He pointed at himself, then at the box, his face as confused as a chicken at the post office. "Eh? Sure. Step asides, asks me!" Tommy removed Clio from the equation with the appropriate amount of force, and went to town on the box. He rolled up his sleeves, which was completely unnecessary, and raised his left index finger. In concert, a claw, sharp and sleek like an ice pick, shot out faster than most people blink.

As he reached inside the keyhole with his nail, his entire body tensed up. His ears were pointed towards the box, and he was dead quiet and still. He turned his hand clockwise just slightly. his right hand hovered above the box, as if to feel the air. his hand turned counter-clockwise. Tommy squinted. He tuned back for a moment, to assess the situation. Then he turned again, this time to be met with a *click*. Tommy breathed. He pulled out and retracted his claw.

"There you goes." Tommy handed the box back to the giant. He seemed completely unfazed by what he'd done. In fact, he was already scratching his butt, with his left foot, amazingly.

About a month ago, one of Haile's human friends died.  They tend to do this, he has discovered, pretty regularly.  But this friend was kind enough to leave behind a locked chest for Haile.  The same chest that furry creature has just unlocked.  All these weeks since visiting that grave, since walking back home to the Kush, the giant has been wondering what was in the box.

Time to find out.  He furrows his brows—his lit spliff dangling from his lips, his fingers twitching—and takes the box from Tommy.  Slowly, he opens the chest's lid and one-by-one removes the contents.

First came a flexible leather-bound book.  And another such book.  Haile recognizes them.  Notebooks.  Technically-minded artificers, wizards, and scientists use them in research.  Haile used them, too, many years ago.  What kind of work was Haile's friend doing that needed so many notes?  Why, there's a third notebook in the box.

Next, Haile finds a wad of cloth.  It is wrapped around something.  Curious.  He sets the thing down on the ground near Tommy.  He'd get to that when he finished the emptying the box.

Finally, the last thing in the box.  A stack of yellowed-letters bound by string.  With his waning eyesight, Haile is forced to squint to read them.  They're love letters.  Unsent love letters, at that.  They're all signed G.G..  

Haile sits there in the cannabis field and tries to remember.  G.G. sounds familiar, like it is someone he should know very well, but he's forgotten so much in his life.  Maybe he's forgotten who G.G. is, too.

"No gold in the treasure chest.  Just notes.  Letters."

Clio picks up the first notebook and takes a look at it, figuring Haile wouldn't mind. "Well maybe there's something valuable written in these pages."

Clio was literate and her eyes were good, so she should have no problem reading it unless it were in another language. She opens the notebook and looks at the first few pages.

"Ehh, it's some notes on growing fungi, not something useful to me. You grow mushrooms right?" Clio finishes flipping through and places the notebook down.

     Haile scratches at his ear in the spot Tommy nibbled on. Maybe the furry thing is more of a pest than a pet? Doesn't matter. Haile's been chewed on by bigger things than Tommy. Still, it is a relief when the thing jumps off him and starts unwrapping the cloth.

     After Clio describes the notebook's contents, the giant takes a moment to think. He sucks in a lot of smoke from his spliff, his mind going back into the past. His dead friend, the one who left him the locked chest, never had anything to do with fungus. And he wasn't a scientist of any sort, either. He'd never take notes.

     And his name didn't make the initials G.G., either. Curious. Thinking about the past is harder than it looks, Haile reminds himself.

     But as Tommy unwraps... whatever it is he is unwrapping, Haile continues to smoke, ponder, and look at Clio and the notebook she holds. His dead buddy once had another friend, Haile recalls. No, not a friend. He had a brother. Yes, a brother! Oh, what is his name?

     Graham! Yes, Graham Something-or-Other. Maybe Graham G.? Could have been. Haile's not sure. But that brother Graham was a mycologist, if Haile's remembering correctly.

     "Think my friend has a brother. Named Graham. Works with fungus." That doesn't seem right, though. Something is missing. "Wait, no. Graham doesn't do that anymore. Doesn't do anything anymore. Graham's dead." He closes his eyes and remembers. "Yes, Graham died years ago. Burned to death with is daughter. I remember that. His work was destroyed in the fire."

     Before Haile could put together that perhaps the notes in Clio's hand are the same note that were lost in that old fire, Tommy finishes unwrapping. It's a glass jar, sealed with wax, with a thick white liquid inside. Haile wasn't sure, exactly, what that creamy liquid is, but he has this feeling that it isn't safe. Especially in the hands of a pesty pet person.

     "Can I have that, please?"