A frigid gust of wind blasts you in the face and you sneeze at the pollen that forcefully enters your nose. Sniffling at the cold, you push your back against the Mother Tree and gaze longingly out into the vast green field before you.

The black clouds' prolonged stay had begun to worry Ink, so they had left a while ago in hopes of ridding the source keeping them there. You had asked them how they knew there was a source causing the clouds, but they had simply smiled and ran away saying they'd be back later.

However, that had been hours ago, and the fact that Ink might not come back circled in your mind. The desire to go out and find them surged after the first hour, but the idea of leaving the Mother Tree unprotected left a bad taste in your mouth, so you waited.

Another strong brush of wind whips against your face and you cringe at the sound of creaking branches above you. The Mother Tree’s leaves bristle violently and you warily look up at the black clouds still adorning the sky. The sound of brewing thunder has you sucking in a breath.

“I really hope Ink comes back soon.” You say aloud as you release the breath.

All of a sudden a loud crash and bright light breaks you from your pity party and you quickly turn around to see where the noise came from.

Upon looking at a smoking branch high up in the Mother Tree you gasp in shock and quickly stand up to avoid being struck by the branch if it happens to fall.

Gazing at the branch you can see that it is splintered beyond repair. However, what worries you the most is the bundle of leaves and flowers that are barely hanging on the end of it by a few scorched stems.

It never occurred to you that the birth flowers could be picked by someone or something else besides Ink. 

Although it always seemed that they cut the flowers in a carefree way, Ink actually put a lot of effort into gently dropping the flowers. You were also pretty sure that the reason why the flowers didn’t change into eggs until they hit the ground, was controlled by Ink.

That being said you wince at the sound of the branch snapping further and your eyes widen upon seeing five birth flowers break away from it.

Your previous theory about Ink’s control is then proven correct, and you gasp in horror as each flower glows and then transforms into a flox egg.

The eggs immediately plummet to the ground with their new weight, and you cry out as you reach your arms forward in hopes of catching them.

You successfully manage to catch three of them before tripping and falling onto your knees. You hiss at the pain traveling up your leg but ignore it as whip your head around to find the other two eggs you had missed.

Your heart seizes when you see one of them laying on the ground. Cracks litter the side facing downward, but you let out a sob of relief upon realizing that the egg had yet to fully break. Hopefully, it would still hatch.

Limping towards it you lift it up gingerly and place the other three around it to keep it steady.

Taking a few calming breaths you turn around praying you won’t find the final egg in a worse state. However, you bl
ink in confusion at the lack of egg, or uh, eggshells and yolk.

You were sure five eggs fell before you tripped. 

After a final lap around the Mother Tree, you assume that the fifth egg must have been a figment of your imagination, and you turn your gaze up to regard the broken branch again.

You do a double-take, however, and are left speechless at the floating egg swinging between the branches. 

Upon closer inspection, you notice a thin blue string circled around it. The string must be the source of the egg's apparent flying act and you sigh in amusement. Reaching up, you then untangle the egg and gently set it down by its pickmates.

Once all the eggs seem to be comfortable you stare at the remnants of the blue string cradled in your palm. It looks suspiciously like the string tied around Inks' tail and forelimb.

You almost drop it when the string suddenly curls around your finger, but instead you laugh when it ties itself into a little bow. That’s pretty cute. 

The soft rumbling of thunder enters your ears again and you settle back down against the Mother Tree. Hopefully, Ink will return soon so you can ask them about the string and the black clouds.