A cascade of water splashed through the dense canopy, mimicking a downpour as the water mask the sweat and tears. Still shocked and in disbelief at the tree which held Scott in its gnarled, unyielding grip. Watching as his face twisted in panic, eyes wide with terror.
Ben’s shout to lookout was a few seconds to slow. It was too late. Frozen in sheer horror, the remaining members of Team Uno could only watch in a state of paralyzing terror.
Scott's body convulsed, and before their eyes, he exploded in a grotesque display of blood and sinew. The tree's root-arm coiled tighter, tearing him apart in a series of wet, sickening pops.
The malevolence of the tree was almost tangible, radiating a shiver of dread that sank deep into their bones. This ancient force of nature had claimed another victim.
The tree, as if satisfied with its macabre meal, gently deposited the remnants of Scott's mutilated body into its maw. The sight was surreal, like watching a nightmare come to life. Tears streamed down their faces, the weight of their grim reality crashing down like a tidal wave.
Even Mr. Major, the epitome of stoic resolve, found himself battling a surge of emotion. His face, usually an unreadable mask, now reflected a rare glimpse of vulnerability. The unfathomable horror they witnessed shattered any remaining sense of invincibility.
As the forest seemed to close in around them, the true nature of their predicament became clear. They were not just lost in the wilderness; they were prey in an ancient, malevolent game know as survival of the fittest.
Within the heart of this emerald abyss, they found themselves ensnared in the enigmatic machinations of a jungle that defied all rational explanation. The danger was all too real, and the fear that clutched at their hearts was visceral.
Each rustle of leaves, every flicker of shadow in the diminishing light, heightened their anxiety. Trapped within a surreal landscape where nightmares took form and hope dwindled like a fading ember, they grappled with the inconceivable reality that surrounded them.
Staring at the living tree before them, its chiselled teeth formed from gnarled bark resembling a gruesome mouth, Mr. Major and Timmon found themselves gripped by an icy fear. The tree's gnashing maw seemed to drip with the crimson remnants of their fallen comrade, a sight that sent shivers down their spines. The notion of escape flickered in their minds, but the tree's true capabilities remained shrouded in uncertainty. This arboreal adversary held all the advantages in this deadly dance, reigning supreme within its natural battleground.
A silent exchange passed between Mr. Major and Timmon, a subtle communication that spoke volumes. With a furtive signal to Ben, they encouraged him to rise from his crouched position, a desperate bid to divert the tree's attention. Their bodies remained as motionless as possible, a deliberate effort to blend into the eerie environment. Emitting soft, resonant hums, they hoped against hope that the strange sounds might pique the tree's curiosity.
Amidst their paralyzing fear, they couldn't fathom what had captured Ben's unwavering gaze. Their own trepidation kept them from stealing a glance at anything that was ahead of them, the unknown horrors that might be lurking in their own reflections.
Then, another splash of water fell through the leaves of the tree, sending a fresh wave of dread in the form of raindrops rippling through them.
That even resulted in Ben being shaken lose of the paralyzing fear, As sunlight filtered through the tree's gnarled branches, casting an ethereal glow upon the vivid crimson fruits that dangled like macabre ornaments. Amidst this eerie scene, his gaze fell upon two torn remnants of fruit clinging precariously to the branch just above him. Memories of the "sandbox tree" back on Earth flickered in his mind—a connection to the strange abilities of flora in their own world. If this otherworldly tree mirrored that in any way, it might have awoken to defend itself when they intruded upon its domain by falling through its canopy.
This arboreal behemoth, with its ugly mouth, eyes, and sinewy arms, stood as a sentinel of the environment. Its lack of visible ears hinted that it perceived the world only through tactile sensation and sight. If, like a true plant, it adhered to circadian rhythms, the approaching sunset might herald a change in its demeanour, a potential shift towards calmness.
Enclosed within the volcanic crater, surrounded by towering mountain walls, the sun's descent would bring darkness sooner rather than later, altering the dynamics of this perilous battleground. When we started the climb it was mind day and we spent at most three, maybe four hours we still have a ways to go.
Whispering feigned confidence to Mr. Major and Timmon, Ben's voice carried a swift revelation, "I got it!" The suddenness of his exclamation jolted them, their faces reflecting a blend of shock and terror. In that heart-stopping moment, the memories of Mr. Major and Timmon played out in a fleeting montage, even as their fear caused them to lose control of their bodily functions.
A discordant symphony of laughter burst forth from Ben, a stark contrast to the grim reality surrounding them. With a chuckle, he offered a sobering reassurance, explaining that the tree possessed no ears to perceive their words, a macabre comfort in this perilous encounter. This was all a guess from observation but Ben wanted to trust his instincts more a skill that his least favourite teammate had.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
The impending sunset held the team captive, a critical factor in their precarious survival. Remaining still until darkness descended was their key to living through this nightmarish ordeal, which according to their luck could mean potentially granting them a chance to face the wolves again. Yet, the unspoken tension hung thick in the air—a single, rash movement could betray their presence in the watchful tree. High above them, the sinister fruits poised like deadly sentinels, their seeds capable of raining down a barrage of lethal projectiles upon any unwitting target like the splashes of water that randomly fell. Each seed was a potential agent of destruction, capable of riddling their bodies with life-ending punctures, making their predicament even more dire.
Mr. Major's recollection of that morning's riverbed encounter echoed in his mind. The forest had stirred to life with an uncanny energy, and while it might've sounded like some wild theory, it was real. Now, as the sun hung lower in the sky, the question loomed: Would the tree settle into slumber with the coming sunset, or did it boast some twisted form of night vision? This train of thought felt like a rabbit hole of madness, one Mr. Major was ready to abandon.
His pride took a hit, bruised and battered, and he grappled with the realization that seeing his son again might not be in the cards. Clutching the carbon fibre stick with a white-knuckled grip, Mr. Major hatched a daring plan. It was a wild notion, almost reckless, but it held a glimmer of hope in its audacity. He steeled himself to confront the monstrous tree head-on, plunging deep into its gnarled maw, fighting from within. It was a desperate gambit, one that might just shift the tree's attention long enough for the rest of the group to slip away in the encroaching darkness before nightfall swallowed them all.
The vibe in the air was definitely shifting, and Timmon was quick to pick up on it. It was like an unspoken tension, that feeling when you just know someone's about to pull a stunt that's way off the charts. His gaze slid over to Mr. Major, who was practically quivering and doing a little awkward dance on his right leg. Now, was he contemplating some crazy move? But what really messed with Timmon's head was the idea that the tree itself seemed to be in on the action. Like, could trees seriously be this smart? It was one heck of a twist, for sure.
Then things got even crazier. Branches above them went into full-on shaky mode, and these birds started squawking up a storm. Call it divine intervention or just dumb luck, but those birds showing up seemed to make the tree's attention shift. It was like a sign from the universe. Suddenly, the branches gave them a break, like a path opening up just when you needed it most. Mr. Major made his move, reaching out to Timmon and Ben like he was giving the green light for some wild escape.
But hold up, it wasn't that simple. Timmon's voice cut through the moment, a warning shouted loud and clear, "No! It's a trap!" And just like that, the scene did a 180. Two seeds zipped through the air, finding their mark in Mr. Major's outstretched arms like they were bullseyes on a dartboard. Man, talk about a cruel twist of fate.
As if things couldn't escalate more, the tree's beefy arms shot out from its massive trunk like something out of a nightmare. It was like they were being controlled by some puppet master in the dark. Team Uno, the trio who were now more like statues, were stuck in a seriously messed-up limbo. The tree's arms were like a tease, just out of reach, making it clear that escape wasn't on the menu anytime soon.
Checking out the scene unfolding before them, it was hard to believe their eyes. Birds were going all-in, taking the ultimate gamble as they dived into the tree's branches, risking their feathered hides to snatch its fruits. But the twist? Those fruits weren't just hanging around—they were exploding off the branches, playing a deadly game of pinball with the avian crew. It was chaos. Fruits were hitting the dirt like there was no tomorrow, and the poor birds were getting knocked around like they were caught in some freaky fruit-filled tornado. And if that wasn't enough, those seed shots kept raining down like unholy hail.
But then, in the middle of this gruesome spectacle, nature decided to give them a taste of its wild side. Amidst the chaotic fruit frenzy, one of the battered, bloodied birds took its last plunge—right into that water sack plant Ben had dropped earlier. It was like chemistry class met Mother Nature. The result? A burst of fiery crimson and purplish hues turned the area beneath the tree into a surreal battlefield. Explosions, dude. Explosions.
With their brains trying to process the unexpected pyrotechnics, an opening suddenly appeared, like a golden ticket to survival. No way were they about to let that slide. Mr. Major, even with injuries, had his game face on. He grabbed Ben, who seemed to be on a mission to scoop up every bird corpse he could find. Talk about multitasking. Then came the random splash of water from above and the branches of the tree erupted with a bigger explosion pushing them all into different direction.
Mr Major shouted: “Don’t stop! Just run!” Unsure if any of his teammates could hear him.
As Ben, Mr Major, and Timmon desperately fled the wrath of the monstrous tree, an unexpected emotion tugged at Ben's heart. Amidst the adrenaline-fuelled escape, he couldn't help but glance over his shoulder at Mr Major. The realization that this might be their last moment together, the final chapter of their shared struggle for survival, filled him with a poignant sadness. The bond forged in the face of such peril was strong, and the thought of losing it was almost as terrifying as the tree itself.
In the midst of their frantic escape, Ben's gaze involuntarily drifted upwards. The birds, undeterred by the chaos below, continued their desperate dance with death. They swooped down, risking everything for the tree's fruits, oblivious or indifferent to the danger. Ben could see it all happening in slow motion – the birds diving, the fruits bursting, and the seeds, like deadly missiles, being expelled. It was a surreal spectacle, a symphony of survival where every participant, whether on the ground or in the air, was playing a high-stakes game.
Finally, they broke free from the tree's oppressive canopy, the dense foliage giving way to the more familiar terrain of the main forest. But the relief was short-lived. As soon as they crossed the threshold, the intensity of their flight caught up with them. It felt as if they had slammed into an invisible wall of exhaustion and fear.
Their breaths came in ragged gasps, and their bodies screamed with the exertion of their escape. The adrenaline that had fuelled their frantic dash began to ebb, replaced by a crushing wave of despair. They had survived, but at what cost? They found themselves separated, each lost in their own patch of the vast, unforgiving forest.
It was a bitter return to the starting point of their ordeal. The nightmare with the tree was over, but they were back to square one; only now, they were alone and more vulnerable than ever. The fear of the unknown, coupled with their physical and emotional exhaustion, made the forest seem even more daunting. Each of them, isolated in their own section of the woods, faced the daunting task of regrouping and finding a way to continue their fight for survival in a world that was relentlessly hostile.