While Adyr was thinking about how to make good use of these lands, which had now grown large enough to even fit a city, there was one person who did not share his feelings.
"Why does this damn place keep changing and growing?" Cannibal muttered, trapped among the Gritstalks. Nearly 2 meters tall now, their thick stalks rose above him like a living wall; his gaze stayed fixed on the sky until dread settled deep in his eyes.
In his arms, he hugged a dirty pillow, worn and stained, like it was the only thing left he could cling to for emotional support.
Every time the place changed, Cannibal had to adapt all over again. He had to adjust to the new residents, the new atmosphere, and the new fieldwork that kept getting dumped onto him. It felt like the land itself kept rewriting his routine without warning.
