A Letter to Chip

Chip,
The construct is leading us in the search of a memory tree. They would be wild about this at home, and I suppose it’s slightly intriguing.
A wave of energy and power flowed through us, making me stronger, but there’s something wrong. Something, or someone is in pain or peril.
The tree is a creature unlike any I’ve ever seen. I elected to tell it about the time I met the child.
The tree talked about Mother, the big tree, and something they called the rot. Might relate to the cry. They were surprised I could hear the cry at all.
When prompted for information they asked for secrets. I told them about my first. The merchant Ace sent me after. The current mark, the one we’re here to save, told her own story, I failed to hear much.
Something is gnawing at Mother’s roots. I find myself enraged in a primally druidic way I haven’t felt in a long time. You would probably have rolled your eyes and called me a bloody tree hugger.
Van Halessa will pay us for helping Mother. I accepted, of course, she doesn’t need to know I would have done it anyway.
The tree asked us to talk to them again. I hope I’ll get the chance. Maybe next time I’ll tell them about you. I didn’t now because I still don’t trust the mark not to eavesdrop.
The construct talked about food, and he sounded just like Rap, describing the stew of a particular tree as “quite efficient”.
Oh, and would you believe it. The kid found an antique pot. I spent my watch cleaning it.
Flicker