"Yellow Great-Immortal. Come on, we're going over there for a look."

Shen Cong sprang across the treetops and landed on the weasel's head, where it clung to its trunk.

Lightning striking the giant fir was nothing strange — the tree stood better than four hundred meters. But that it went on moving while the lightning struck it, that was remarkable. Shen Cong had come this whole way looking for exactly this kind of strange evolution, and having found a thunderbolt giant fir that could walk, of course he was going to take a look.

The weasel stayed put in the tree and would not come down.

"Spice. Don't go, and there's none at all. Go, and I promise you'll be satisfied." Shen Cong tempted it with spice again.

At the word spice the weasel's eyes lit and it threw caution away. It carried him off at once toward the thunderbolt giant fir, its huge body threading between the huge firs, rain coming down through the leaves and soaking its coat.

Shen Cong rode on its head, rising and falling with the rhythm of it.

It felt a little like living in a primeval forest, back before history started.

Strictly speaking, there is nothing mismatched about animals growing gigantic while plants do the same. In the earth's ancient past, animals and plants were both enormous — the age of the dinosaurs was exactly that. There was oxygen enough then, and food enough, to support gigantism in both.

Even the insects ran to several meters.

Later the oxygen concentration fell, and animals and plants had to shrink to lean less on it.

But in this new world, where Activity governs, oxygen is no longer the limiting factor, and a metallized body structure is enough to stand against gravity. There is nothing strange about growing however large.

The one thing that really is mismatched is humans. Humans are still this small.

Which is a little embarrassing.

The weasel ran fast, and before long they had reached the place where the thunder and lightning were. From here he could see it more clearly. Friction…