“The blossoms can think,” he found himself saying as he led them away from a mound that showed the tuskrun pack had been rooting here. “The fingers of Cakoban? The trees themselves are not dangerous, even when blooming—but they attract predators, imitating the thoughts of a wounded animal that is full of pain and worry.” Vathi gasped. “A plant,” she said, “that broadcasts a mental signature? Are you certain?” “Yes.”
