John felt the cold creep in around him as he stared out of the tent at the star-painted. Herc has volunteered to share a tent with him because his former tentmate died recently, which was morbid but John accepted anyways.

The one thing his mind had been set on was James's idea. It wasn't bad. Actually, it was pretty good. It wouldn't locate and save Alex but it could reassure John on wether or not the shroom was still alive, which was good.

John grabbed a candle and lit it swiftly, rummaging through his stuff until he found a paper and quill.

He quickly scribbled out James's idea, making sure to leave out the homosexual aspects and add in enough to make it plausible.

Dear Martha,

I'm writing from my tent in Rocky Bed Camp, as it's referred to by the 'locals'. It's late, but the given name scares me away from the bed, so I've chosen to write to you instead. Can you show this to Mary and James and tell them I'm ok? They seemed so worried when I left.

I am now going to try and engage you in conversation, so please humor me; how are you? How are the horses doing? Is Darwin lonely without me? Probably not, Mary loves him so much. On a scale of 1 to 10, how much happier does Father seem with me gone? What about your absurd collection of mushrooms, is it still growing well?

And there. John could put his quill down, send the and go to sleep. All he really needed was the answer to that last question.

I honestly have very little to say I just wanted to write to you.

Miss you,
John

It wasn't a complete lie, he did want to hear from his siblings, he was just more preoccupied with finding Alex.

John folded the letter and slid it in an envelope, blowing out the candle and setting it beside his cot.

Turns out the name wasn't an exaggeration. John shuffled for about 30 minutes trying to find a comfortable position, which he eventually managed to do (partially) and fell into an uneasy sleep.

—~•~—

John had spent two days at the camp now. He'd befriended Thomas, James, Herc and Burr, and they'd all agreed to find out as much as they could about the shrooms.

That day John went to see if Martha's responded and, to his mild surprise, she had.

He pulled the letter out of the envelope and began to read.

Dear John,

I did as you instructed and showed your letter to James and Mary, they were quite pleased to hear from you and insisted you send them a paintings of your new friends and letters every single day, which I informed them was probably impossible.

I'm doing ok, it's pretty quiet here without you and part of the staff. The horses are well, we got this beautiful young black stallion the other day but we all agreed we'd wait for your return to name it (if you don't come back we'll name it after you, that was my executive decision). On a scale of 1 to 10 I'd say probably 8, Father really doesn't like you much, what could you have possibly done to deserve that? As for my mushrooms (they're not absurd) they seem to be dying quicker and growing slower, the new ones don't look to good. I presume you were just asking about them for the sake of small talk, but I don't care, so I'm going to go in depth on their condition. The bright red looks paler, less vibrant, and they grow out of the ground with brown undersides. The old ones held out for a little bit but all died just yesterday. Is your shroom doing ok? I know you aren't in contact with him, so the question's probably useless, but the condition of the mushrooms grown using his power isn't ideal, so I assume his condition isn't ideal either.

Miss you,
Martha
Henry
JaMes
aNd MaRY!

P.S. we couldn't get Darwin to sign.

John beamed, looking at the wonky signatures of his younger siblings, who still couldn't properly write, but his face fell when it settled upon him what Martha's written.

Alex's condition 'wasn't ideal'.

He pocketed the letter and went to Thomas and James's tent, knocking (as much as one can on a tent) before entering.

"Hey John, what is it?" James asked, noticing that John wasn't looking too happy.

He held out the letter, which Tom snatched and read, James leaning over his shoulder and scanning the paper.

"Ah... I see." Thomas said after a moment of silence that followed the two faeries finishing the letter. "That's not good."

James elbowed his boyfriend and stood up to give John a hug, which he gratefully accepted.

"I'm sure we can find out where the shrooms are, if we just look a bit harder." Thomas offered.

"We'll find him." James comforted.

"But what if we don't?" John asked, and no one answered: they all knew the answer. "What if we can't find him on time?"

If they didn't find him on time (or at all), he's get worse and worse, until he eventually died.

—~•~—

I'm so sorry this chapter took so long, I didn't even realize I hadn't published in so long.

Lots of love,
Starii 🌼