“I thought fairy rings were supposed to grow where tree stumps were rotting,” he said, gazing out over the field, “or spots where something dead and buried was decaying.” She looked up from where she had been closely examining a rough line of fruiting bodies, then she guided him over to one edge that gave a better view. She swept her arm out to indicate a long, one might say draconic, curve as of a tail joining a vast body, picked out in assorted mushrooms, and grimly said, “Yes, exactly.”

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LL#1267