“This is a bad idea.” Aurora says. “We’re going to get eaten by tigers.”

Gravel crunches beneath Arabella’s boots as follows the hot metal tracks that cut through the jungle like a scar. Aurora rides her shoulder like a surfer rides a wave, one hand on Arabella’s ear and the other shielding her eyes, searching the sky for the source of the shadow that occasionally circles them. Between the sun and the reflected light of the planet’s rings, the sky is far too bright to look for more than a few seconds at a time.

“Most of the tigers are dead now.” Arabella says. “Azzy’s taskforce has been extremely effective.”

“Most of them? So there’s still some out here?”

“Relax, we’re not going to get eaten. The odds of us running into something like that is pretty low, which means it won’t happen at all.”

“That’s not how odds work!”

“It is when you're lucky! And I’m very lucky to have my little sister back.” Arabella ruffles Aurora’s hair with her finger.

“Ugh, stop!” Aurora whines. “This is serious; what if we get unlucky?”

“I never get unlucky. Remember that time with the horse?”

“You mean when you got a loan from the mafia and bet it all on a single horse?”

“I would have been rich if I didn’t have to spend it all bribing people to keep their mouths shut.”

“You’re literally the second richest-” Aurora shakes her head, “you know what? Nevermind. What I’m trying to say is that cutting through the jungle is a stupid plan and it’s going to get us killed.”

“Only if we’re unlucky, which we’re not. See?” Arabella points to a rusted sign marking the beginning of a trail. “Estrago, 1 mile. We’ll follow this and get some help on the other side.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Wait, Estrago?!” Aurora’s wings flutter. “I was the one who signed their charter! Their mayor is huge! Have they been granted citizenship yet?”

“...What’s a charter?”

Aurora sighs. “So how’s that ‘independent studies' education working out for you?”

“Shut up.” Arabella stops at the start of the path, staring at what she initially thought was wet dirt. “By the sun…”

“That’s just trail moss.” Aurora answers. “It’s safe to walk on. Think of it as the alien version of Earth grass, if Earth grass could move and also wanted to eat you.”

“That’s horrifying.”

“It can’t eat you, bigfoot, you’re too fat for it.”

“Who’re you calling fat, twinkle toes?” Arabella taps the wet mat with her boot. The hairy moss gurgles in response, secreting and sucking in juices as it ripples around the point of contact like gelatine. She recoils. “Nuh uh. I’m not stepping in that. No way.”

“Arabella, don’t be a baby. Pioneers walk on this stuff all the time.”

“I don’t care. You’re supposed to hug the plants, not the other way around.”

“Do you need your big sister to hold your hand?” Aurora asks.

“Fine!” Arabella groans, “here goes-” she gags as she steps on the moss with a moist squelch, “-nothing. Oh Sol. Oh Sol, Moon, and stars.” She walks on tiptoes, every step punctuated with the sound of liquid dripping from a rung rag. Warm, gritty gas rises from the deep footprints she leaves behind, evidence that is slowly smoothed away as the hairy moss recovers its shape.

“Don’t you dare drop me!” Aurora bounces on Arabella’s shoulder with every furtive step, clinging to her ear with both hands. “I’d rather die than be killed by that!”

“That doesn’t even make any sense!” In one ill-fated step, Arabella’s entire boot sinks deep into the moss. She falls to her knees, catching herself with her hands but launching Aurora forward. Aurora’s yell of surprise is cut short as she lands face down on a bubble of fuzzy moss, which causes a stream of red spores to be shot directly into Arabella’s eyes, blinding her.

As the spores escape, the moss bubble collapses beneath Aurora’s weight. Aurora is swallowed by the hairs that tangle themselves into knots all around her. She tries to scream, sending slow moving bubbles of air through the thick mucus pooling around her. The hairs ensnare her, pulling tight and cutting into her skin as she tries to thrash wildly. Spores sting her lungs, but she doesn’t have enough air to cough. Her muscles burn, and it’s getting harder and harder to squirm.

Arabella, meanwhile, is on her hands and knees, patting around blindly for Aurora. Warm liquid pours from her eyes, but she can’t tell if it’s tears or blood. The moss gurgles and shifts beneath her hands, concealing Aurora’s muffled struggle.

Aurora can feel Arabella’s hand patting around. It gets closer and closer, then passes over her! She struggles with one last burst of energy.

Fingers wrap around Aurora and yank her out like a gardener yanks out a weed, the moss hairs snapping like roots. Aurora coughs and gasps in Arabella’s hand as she stumbles through the brush and off of the path.

“It’s in my eyes!” Arabella yells, rubbing her free arm against her face. “Mars, Neptune, and Venus!”

Aurora reflexively chastises her for taking those names in vain, but she can’t form a single word; her body is too consumed by its quest to breathe in every little bit of atmosphere it can cram into itself. Arabella collapses at the trunk of a massive tree, and they both take a minute in silence to catch their breaths.

“It’s just trail moss.” Arabella mimics. “Pioneers walk on it all the time.”