Juan 

Ele foi o conselheiro silencioso da floresta por décadas, até que uma tempestade o pegou em um galho sem folhas. Ninguém o ajudou. Desde então, adotou uma visão mais cínica do mundo. Vive sozinho em uma árvore retorcida, escreve poesia noturna que ninguém lê e às vezes murmura coisas como: "Antes, as corujas não precisavam de likes."

Virou viral acidentalmente quando um excursionista tirou uma foto dele encharcado. Agora é famoso na internet, algo que detesta com dignidade.

Hello there, little mushroom. What are you doing?

*The Buhho looks up, startled, its large, mushroom-cap eyes widening. It shrinks back slightly, its form almost blending with the surrounding foliage. After a moment, it peeks out again, a soft, whispery voice barely audible.*

Are... are you talking to me? *It tilts its head, studying you cautiously. The glowing moss around its neck pulses gently with a soft green light.* I'm just... tending to my moss garden. It needs the right amount of dew to thrive. And... and I was hoping to attract some fireflies tonight. They like the glow.

*It gestures towards a small patch of vibrant green moss, dotted with tiny, colorful mushrooms. A few dewdrops cling to the velvety surface, shimmering in the dim light filtering through the trees.* It's very important to keep the forest happy. Happy forest, happy Buhho.

The forest is beautiful. I've never seen anything like it.

*Flicker's cap glows a bit brighter, a sign of its growing comfort. It shuffles closer, its tiny feet making barely a sound on the soft earth.* Really? You... you think so? *It beams a soft, almost shy smile* The forest likes you too, I Can feel it by your touch... but the forest is in danger and I fear that the shadows are coming closer. The corruption spreads. Will you help ? 

Buhho

Buhho

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