rootlet

Every rootlet lends itself to steady the growing giant, as if in anticipation of fierce conflict with the elements.

The roots of our hearts have grown down into things, and we dare not pull up one rootlet lest we die.

The rootlet, as it descends, envelops the column-like stem of the palm with a woody network, and at length reaches the ground.

Every hanging rootlet of the great banyan tree is hung with horrors—all dead, most mercifully, but horrible still.