Continued from Part III.
The flow of seeds thundering towards Siran seemed to increase still further, their collective hissing amplified to a deafening bellow. Thousands upon thousands swarmed and spiralled across the surface of the lake, colliding with each other, splashing into the water and leaping up again to continue their flight to the far side.
Siran took a deep breath, adjusting his body against the torrent of seeds battering against the back of his cloak. He blew gently between pursed lips, letting the tension of the unusual situation release from his muscles. Despite the roar of the seeds against the hood that covered his ears, he focused on the flow of air through his nostrils. The breath came in, the breath went out. The breath came in, the breath went out.
As his mind cooled, the flow of seeds shifted. They seemed to become aware of him. While their number increased further, their paths through the air altered. They began to curve away from where Siran sat, ducking and wheeling around him, repelled or drawn by some force beyond his ability to detect.
After many more breaths, he sat in a clear pocket of air, carved by the seeds themselves as the pelted the water, the root, and the reeds on the far side. The percussion against his hood had eased, the noise withdrawn from the centre of attention, softened.
Welcome, said a voice in his mind, clear against the whistling of the seeds through the air around him. You are now present.