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SPONDULE: (pointing. The blood is mostly cleaned off of his face; the wound is mainly two red slashes on his forehead) White-root. In the round bag. Please.

NAVICHET: (apprehensive) Eh. Arright. (She reaches into the round bag, and pulls out a white-root) Take it a little easy, though.

(Spondule takes the root and starts eating it)