The three of them toiled through the afternoon. By the time the sun dipped toward the horizon, a stubborn pile of fern roots still awaited mashing. Dusty had pushed its slime body to the limit, yet the pace lagged. Their main bottleneck was the lack of a basin large enough to hold a full batch for Dusty to pulverize at once.
"Pew pew."
[I could split into smaller clones, actually, and control them all at once.] That was the unique physiology of a Slime. Dusty grumbled while spinning like a blender to crush the roots: [But the ambient elemental density is too low right now. If I divide, the clones will just be dead Slimes, completely inert.]
Ewan rinsed his hands and gently patted the creature's head: "No rush, we can take our time. When you are all grown up, we will process a lot more, okay?"
