“Look at this cool plant I found!” Trouse exclaims as he picks reaches down to pick up a bronze-colored weed growing in the grass near the camp the group had set up after leaving the city and travelling off the road in the direction Poole had set them on, using the sun as his guide.

            “Wait that’s- “Poole begins, but it’s too late as Trouse grabs the plant.

            Trouse yelps and releases the plant immediately, a dark, angry rash forming on his hand with welts, blisters, and an enormous cut where he’d touched the weed.

            “A do weed.” Poole finishes, sighing wearily.

“Get over here, Trouse!” Gole snaps, jumping to her feet and charging into the thick grass, grabbing Trouse by his cape with her mouth and dragging him back to the camp where the others wait in concern.

            “What can we do to help?” Thigi asks anxiously as she studies the doub’s arm, while Trouse winces and grinds his teeth together.

            “There’s nothing we can do. Trouse must go through excruciating pain, but it will fade with time, and he will remember not to touch the do weed again.” Poole says, looking regretfully at the doub’s hand.