He tensed.

Somebody pokes him.

He jumped and turned.

It's a dark blue oread. It has roses across its head, and tangly, sharp thorns across its back like wings. He can barely see it at all in the dim light Mycena gives off, but it's less than a foot away from him.

He backed up, nervous.

He backs right into another one, who growls and grabs him by the wrists. The first one leans in close, baring teeth even sharper than his own. It opens its mouth to say something, but Mycena interrupts him.

"He's not a taker, Floral. Dew, drop him."

The rose oread behinds him lets go, and the one in front leans back, though still distrustful. Mycena takes his land and lightly ushers him away from the two wary oreads. "They don't like strangers. I should've warned you about that."

He simply nodded, tense and freaked out.

"Just stay by me. They won't bite if they don't think you'll attack."

He nodded and stayed next to her.

As his eyes adjust to the near-darkness, he can see them more clearly. There's about 15 oreads, with different colors of roses that don't seem to be limited to natural colors. Their thorns seem to show age, with older oreads having longer thorn 'wings'. They all visibly don't trust him.