A faint warmth spread through the cave. The fire that had once burned so brightly around George had settled into a soft, pulsing glow, and wisps of heat still flickered across his gelatinous form, dim embers clinging to his translucent orange surface.
The boy blinked as the dim light of the cave greeted his eyes. His body was stiff from sleeping on the cold rock, but something felt… different. There was a strange warmth in the air, an unusual glow that made his surroundings flicker ever so slightly.
His mind was still hazy as he rubbed his eyes, he remembered he was running with George, and as he turned, he saw the familiar gelatinous shape nearby.
George.
The boy’s heart skipped as he sat up, his exhaustion replaced by sharp concern. George no longer looked sickly. Instead, his orange hue seemed deeper, richer—almost as if there was light coming from within him.
“George?” the boy whispered, crawling closer.
He hesitated only for a moment before scooping the slime into his hands. His structure stabilizing. The warmth was stronger now, not just from his own body heat—George was giving off heat on his own.
Then, just as the boy was processing this change—
“I feel better.”
The boy stiffened. His hands trembled slightly. He jerked his head around, searching the cave, but there was no one else here. Just him and George.
Did I just—?
The voice hadn’t come from the cave. It hadn’t come from the air. It had come from—
Inside his head.
His grip on George tightened. A cold sensation spread through his chest.
“No… no, I didn’t hear that,” he muttered, shaking his head. “It’s just… I’m still tired. I imagined it.”
But then—
“Look down.”
The boy gasped. His whole body tensed. His head pounded suddenly; an aching pressure that made him squeeze his eyes shut.
What’s happening to me?!
The mushrooms—had it been the mushrooms? Had he been eating something poisonous this whole time? Was he losing his mind? Was—
His breath came out sharp and ragged.
Shaking, he forced himself to look down.
George pulsed slightly in his hands.
The boy’s stomach twisted. Slowly, he swallowed the lump in his throat. “G-George?”
“Yes.”
The boy’s breath caught. He nearly dropped the slime.
It was real.
Somehow, it was real.
His heart pounded. For the longest time, he had talked to George as if he were a pet, as if he understood—but George had never responded.
And now—now he was in his head.
A long silence stretched between them before the boy finally let out a weak, disbelieving laugh. “I’m going crazy.”
“No,” George’s voice came again. “You’re hearing me.”
The boy exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair. His entire world had just shifted in an instant.
And yet…
He looked down at George again. The slime was still small, still round, still soft in his hands.
But now, he wasn’t just a pet.
He was something else.
he could be something more, perhaps something he experienced only once that he had lost.
A friend.
The boy took a deep breath, pushing his thoughts aside. He could dwell on this later—right now, they had to keep moving.
His exploration had come to a halt when George had fallen ill, but now that the slime was not only better, but… different, there was no reason to stay in one place any longer.
But this time…. this time they’d be careful.
The boy sat back on his heels, still clutching George in his hands. A wide grin stretched across his face, his chest swelling with relief and joy. “You’re okay,” he murmured, giving the slime a gentle squeeze. “You’re really okay.”
George pulsed, his warm glow flickering. “Yes. But… I see something.”
The boy blinked, tilting his head. “See what?”
George hesitated. “Not see…. kind of feel? It is hard to explain but all I know is that there are silver lines around us.
Confused, the boy glanced around the dimly lit cave. “What do you mean, silver lines? I don’t see anything.”
“They are faint, as if they are almost not there, however I can definitely feel them” George explained. “But when I pull at them…” The slime gave a small pulse, as if concentrating, beautiful silver lines start to rush towards the slime, unbeknownst to the boy.
The boy squinted, trying to see what George was talking about, and just then, right before his eyes, the slime’s glow intensified. A slow, deliberate increase in brightness.
“Woah,” the boy breathed, leaning closer. “That… that’s new.”
George pulsed again. “Feels strange.
The boy swallowed, excitement growing in his chest. The boy though with wonder, could it be what I think it is? “Do it again. Try pulling more of those lines.”
George obeyed, concentrating once more. The glow deepened, becoming more vibrant, as the slime grew warmer and warmer. Then, suddenly—
Flames.
The boy gasped as bright orange and yellow fire erupted from George’s gelatinous form, twisting into a singular roaring flame that bathed the cave in light. The shadows danced wildly along the walls, and for the first time since he had woken up in this cave, the boy could see everything clearly.
His heart pounded as he leapt to his feet, filled with an indescribable exhilaration. “Fire!” he shouted, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “George, you made fire! This is insane! This changes everything!”
George flickered, his pulsing slowing. “Fire? What’s that?”
“Yes! Fire! You can burn things! Keep people warm! Cook food! This is—this is huge!” The boy ran a hand through his messy hair, still grinning. “How did you do it? Were you always able to do that?”
George hesitated. “I don’t know. But…”
The boy leaned in eagerly. “But what?”
“Ever since you gave me silver mushrooms.”
The boy froze. His grin faltered slightly. “Silver mushrooms?” he repeated slowly. “George, I only ever gave you orange mushrooms.”
George pulsed. “No. Silver.”
His gaze drifted to his pack, where he had stored some extra food, and he quickly pulled out three different mushrooms and placed them in front of George. One brown on the left, an orange one in the middle, and a blue one he had in his pocket on the right.
“Alright, tell me what colors you see.”
George examined the mushrooms. “Right is black, the left is blacker and … the middle is silver.”
The boy’s breath caught. His stomach twisted. “No way…”
Could George be colorblind? Or—was he seeing something different altogether? The boy’s mind raced with possibilities. What if the orange mushrooms weren’t actually orange to George? What if, to him, they were something else? Something special?
The realization struck him like a thunderclap.
“This—this is the key,” he murmured, eyes shining with newfound determination. “If the orange mushrooms—or, the silver mushrooms, whatever—if they did this to you, made you stronger, gave you fire, then… maybe they can do more.”
George flickered with curiosity. “More?”
The boy’s mind flashed with wild possibilities. What if George could get even bigger? Smarter? What if he could grow legs? Walk beside him instead of being carried? An image formed in his head of a blob-like creature with stubby legs waddling next to him, and he quickly shook his head to dispel it.
“One thing at a time,” he muttered, before clenching his fists with resolve. “But now we have a goal.”
He turned to George, determination burning in his gaze. “We’re going to find as many of those mushrooms as we can.”
George nodded in understanding. “Yes.”
With that, the boy packed up his things, heart pounding with excitement. Their journey had taken a new turn.
