If you ever find yourself thinking:
Hey, maybe I'll just wander around this murder-forest at night, I want you to do two things:
First, slap yourself.
Second, remember me: John the Botanist who made that exact decision.
In my defense, the tree I was napping on was swaying way too much. And by "swaying," I mean something big and growly was shaking it like a vending machine that ate its coin and didn't drop the item that was supposed to fall.
Naturally, I climbed down like a rational coward and tiptoed into the dark. I had Barry strapped to my shoulder like a glowing scarf as he lit my way. It's kinda good, I feel a little bit safe.
Shiv, the great and terrible panda, was suspiciously silent tonight. Probably watching me fail for his entertainment. The deeper I went, the weirder the plants became. Leaves that whistled when the wind passed. Vines that twitched like they wanted to gossip. Even the flowers were suspiciously...judgy. There were no insects, probably eaten a long time ago.
As I was about to turn on the left side, that's when I saw it. At first, I thought it was just a bush. It was very tiny, adorably bushy...bush.
It sat in the middle of a clearing, with tiny triangular leaves like sharp blades. They rattled softly, almost like a purring cat. Against all common sense, I stepped closer.
The bush hopped, stood up. It had legs.
I froze and Barry tensed on my shoulder. And then thing turned. I swear to all the gods of gardening, it grinned.
A mouth full of leafy razor-edges opened wide in a cheerful little "Hi, I'm probably going to shred your face!" expression.
Naturally, I did the only sensible thing. I Appraised it. The glowing words unfolded like a crime report:
Appraisal:
Species: Shred Leaf Kit
Class: Razor Sprite
Temperament: Playfully Murderous
Preferred Habitat: Moonlit Clearings
Weakness: Cuddling (Do not recommend cuddling. It cut)
Skills: Pounce, Slice, Phantom blade
Warning: DO NOT PET.
"Playfully murderous," I muttered under my breath. "Of course it is." The Shred Leaf Kit wiggled its leafy tail like a cat about to pounce, tail (okay, vine with blade) swishing in excitement.
Barry shivered. I shivered. The bush-thing looked excited to meet me. I took a careful step back.
The Shredleaf took a gleeful hop forward.
"NOPE," I said out loud, spinning on my heel and sprinting back toward my tree.
Behind me, I heard the rapid tik-tik-tik of leafy claws against stone and dirt.
It was chasing me because of course it was. Apparently, in this world, even the kittens were armed.
And you know how some people say, You catch more flies with honey than vinegar?
Well, apparently, you catch more razor-toothed plant-kittens with sweets than with running and screaming.
Which was news to me. Unfortunately, I was fresh out of honey, cookies, and emotional stability.
Still running, I cracked open my survival backpack with one hand while dodging between trees with the other. Barry was bouncing on my shoulder like a furry alarm system, making terrified squeaky noises as he served my light.
"Think, John, think!" I gasped.
The Shredleaf Kit was still on my heels, leaves rattling like knives at a fancy dinner party. That's when my fingers brushed against something.
Survival Rations: Sweet Protein Bar, Berry Flavor.
A lightbulb went off. I skidded to a stop so fast that Barry almost flew off.
The Shredleaf Kit crashed into a bush with a delighted chirrup. Frantically, I unwrapped the sticky bar and, with great ceremony and the last shred of my dignity, threw it on the ground.
The Kit froze. It sniffed. It tilted its leafy head. Slowly, cautiously, it pounced onto the bar...and began shredding it to pieces with manic happiness. I backed up two steps. Then three. Watching.
The little monster was rolling on its back now, smearing purple goo all over itself like it was having the best day of its life.
"Okay...okay," I muttered. "Maybe you're not so bad after all, you homicidal fern-cat."
Then Barry chirped and pointed.
Tucked inside one of the shredded bushes nearby was a ball of tangled vine, like a natural toy. Looked like something a cat would murder for.
A dangerous, stupid idea formed in my mind. I grabbed the vine ball and, praying to every gardening god, held it up like an offering.
The Shredleaf Kit paused mid-chomp. It saw the ball. Its whole body went tense.
Then it zoomed at me so fast I barely had time to squeak.
I hurled the ball like a baseball pitcher possessed by desperation. The Kit lunged after it, rolling and thrashing in joy, completely forgetting I existed for a second.
Quest Notification: [Hidden Bonding Opportunity Discovered!]
Progress: 1/3 actions to tame Shred Leaf Kit.
"You've got to be kidding me," I groaned.
Three bonding actions? Fine. FINE.
I grabbed another sweet bar (I only had two left, thank you, cruel world), unwrapped it, and gently tossed it near the Kit.
Instant purring.
2/3 actions completed.
The last step was clear. Probably something stupid. Like touching it. I shuffled forward, hands raised like a hostage negotiator.
"Easy there, little razorface. I'm a friend. Not food."
It blinked up at me, covered in purple syrup, looking stupidly adorable and deadly at the same time. With all the courage of a man trying to defuse a bomb, I patted its leafy head.
The leaves twitched and then curled gently around my wrist like a cat nuzzling a hand.
Quest Notification: [Shredleaf Kit Tamed!]
Name your new companion.
I almost collapsed from relief. Barry gave me a deadpan stare that clearly said, I liked it better when it was trying to kill you.
I grinned, wiping a bead of sweat off my forehead.
"Welcome to the team, little guy," I said.
"I'm gonna call you...Blade."
Blade squealed happily, sharpening its leaves in excitement.
Perfect. Just what I needed: another slightly homicidal companion.
Shiv's smug voice buzzed in my head: Congratulations, Florist of Doom. One deadly plushie acquired. Now, train it. Don't die, now!
There were many things I never expected to do in my life.
Being trapped on a murder-plant planet? Sure, that was new.
Drinking filtered lily pod juice from a glowing water balloon? Horrible, but done.
But trying to train a sharp-edged, hyperactive plant-cat hybrid who thought everything including my face was a chew toy? That's where I drew the mental line. And then lit it on fire.
Blade, my recently-acquired Shred Leaf Kit, sat across from me, tail twitching like a rattlesnake. His leafy ears perked, his eyes glowing an unsettling shade of minty murder, and his claws tapping the dirt in an impromptu death drum.
"Alright, buddy," I said, squatting low and holding out the vine-ball he loved so much. "Today, we learn 'sit'."
Blade immediately leapt six feet into the air, backflipped off a tree, and shredded a nearby bush for no apparent reason.
"...Right. That was neither 'sit' nor helpful."
Barry, my glowing plant companion, glowed dimly on my shoulder, probably in shame.
I cleared my throat and tried again, this time using Shiv's totally not condescending training guide called "Botanist: Beginner Beast Handling for Barely Competent Humans."
Page 2: "Use treats to reinforce positive behavior."
Right. Sweet sap bits. Got it.
"Blade!" I said, holding up the sticky treat like it was made of dreams.
"Sit, and you get the goo!"
Snips paused mid-air—yes, mid-air—locked eyes with the sap, and zoomed toward me like a knife in a blender. He didn't sit. He drop-kicked me in the chest, stole the treat, and did a victory lap around the clearing while screaming what I'm pretty sure was plant-laughter.
I wheezed on the ground, reconsidering every life decision that led to this moment.
"Technically," I gasped, "he did respond to the command."
Barry let out a soft pulsing glow, which I interpreted as either pity or 'I told you so.'
Then came the worst part.
Shiv appeared in a flicker of smug neon pixels, slow clapping like an overly proud kindergarten teacher at a disaster recital.
"Beautiful," he said. "Truly inspiring. Your ability to train that living weed with teeth is breathtaking. Really. My nonexistent heart is touched."
"You didn't tell me he had bloodlust in his leaf-soul!"
"He's a Shredleaf, John. That's literally in the name."
I groaned, brushing leaf shrapnel off my shirt. "Do you have any tips that won't get me cut by a plant?"
"Sure!" he said, producing a glowing pop-up labeled:
'Plant-Based Training: Chaos Edition.'
It read:
"The Shred Leaf Kit responds to: – Movement – Sparkly things – Loud, high-pitched noises – Explosions (unconfirmed) – Absolutely nothing resembling discipline"
I stared blankly.
Shiv smirked and added, "You don't train Blade, John. You redirect his chaos. Channel it. Bribe him. Distract him. Or just survive until he grows bored of trying to cut you."
Snips returned at full speed, launched himself into my lap, and curled up in a deceptively adorable ball of blades and fluff.
He purred.
I bled.
"Great," I muttered. "I'm a human scratching post."
Shiv winked and began to fade.
"Good luck, plant whisperer. You've just adopted a green grenade with fur."