Dad pokes at a marimo, the giant mass of moss peeping in response. Dad rumbles in surprise and nearly runs the gentle thing over, only to have it bounce off the walker and down the hill. It seems like these things are indeed alive, and resilient at that.
The TCPs can move on from here, or stick around to investigate the marimo herd a bit. The milk-rice and grass fields are too far away in the other direction to visit for now.