
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
Right, so #11 clawed into existence during the Great Rootbound War when some overachieving treetop spirits yeeted themselves into an otter’s tea time. Picture this: one valiant furball doing parkour across mossy branches—basically Assassin’s Creed: Nutkin Edition—when BAM, cosmic merger! Now he’s dodging shadow blight with pollen-seed vine bridges because apparently, guarding aerial pathways pays better than my narration gig. Sigh. Who greenlit this lore?
Next week: Do otters get worker’s comp for pollen allergies?