After walking for a few more minutes, they reached an area and decided it was time to rest and recoup some energy. Timmon watched Ben while Mr Major gathered some edible plants they discovered for a meal while setting up a fire.

As the fire crackled, Timmon started a conversation with Mr Major, "We can't afford to let our guard down. We need to be prepared for anything. Ben might not be the only one affected by whatever's going on in this forest."

Mr Major nodded solemnly, glancing at Ben's unresponsive form. "We're in uncharted territory here. We need to be smart about this, we need to use our heads to come up with a good strategy. Let's figure out what's happening, and then we can decide our course of action."

Gently, Ben interrupted. "So you guys really aren't aliens? Is it really you, Mr Major and Timmon? If this is a play to eat me or enslave me, get over it already. If not, unbind me now. My dick is in a weird position, and I have a strong feeling you wouldn't help me if I asked.

There was a pause just before Mr Major's voice sliced through the tense air, dripping with venom and disbelief, "What the actual fuck is up with you, science man? Jokes? At a time like this? I should kill you right now if saving my energy wasn't my top priority. Do you have any idea what that stunt could have cost us? Not just this fuck up but everything since Tobi's death!"

Seeing the rage in Mr. Major's eyes, Timmon attempted to intervene as the leader. "Calm down, Mr. M," he said, but his words only fuelled Mr Major's anger further.

Mr Major erupted like a volcano; his words were as sharp as broken glass. "Bitch! Don't tell me to calm down. My name is Mr. Major to you; we aren't friends. This is a job, a mission. If any of you can't respect life or the importance of your own life, let me know now! Because I won't risk my life for someone who sees no value in their own and is quick to raise a weapon against their own kin."

Ben smirked. "Lives shmives. With all that noise you're making, something predatorily might just show up from behind one of these trees and beat you to the punch."

"Shut the fuck up!" Mr Major roared, his fist connecting with Ben's face and knocking him over.

He was like a drill sergeant on overdrive, hammering his words and fists like nails into a coffin of frustration. There was no room for misunderstanding. His next words were a blazing reminder that this was no playground, no casual expedition. "There's a time and place for everything. If Ben wants to throw away his life, tell him to do it on his own time. If he can manage that, fine, it's his business. But risking the team's lives for the sake of a dead bird was unbelievably irresponsible. And to attack us with such ferocity after surviving the bees with injuries—it's unacceptable."

With blood in his mouth, Ben spoke in a hushed tone, "And yet you're the one making noise right now, shouting and yelling and putting our lives in danger. How does it feel to beat up the injured guy who just survived a two-on-one battle? It's not that simple now that the shoe's on the other foot, huh?"

The distant howls of wolves blended seamlessly with the wind, their eerie calls masquerading as the whispering breeze through the surrounding tree branches.

Mr. Major moved with deliberate slowness as if each step carried the weight of the world. His hands, calloused and weathered, grasped a large rock from the damp Earth beneath a gnarled tree. Struggling to free the rock from its earthly confines, he crab-walked back to where Ben lay, his movements mirroring the internal struggle raging within him.

With every ounce of strength, Mr Major hoisted the rock above his head, his voice echoing through the dense forest. "Dear God, let him say one more motherfucking word. I'll send him back to you, I swear it."

Timmon wanted to chuckle at the dramatics unfolding before him, but the situation was serious. He was frustrated. Looking at Ben's smaller frame with no visible wounds was even more aggravating. Was Ben even human? That rock Mr Major held over his head would surely confirm whether he was alien or Human.

The look in Ben's bewildered eyes cried for forgiveness, but the look in Mr Major's eyes simply said, "Die." It was so loud that Ben could hear the words in his mind.

Just as the rock shifted in Mr Majors's hand, Timmon intervened, shoving it aside, causing the heavy mass to fall inches from Ben's foot.

Mr Major's voice trembled with a mixture of sorrow and frustration, each word a poignant note in a symphony of pain. "Listen, Ben, it's not you that I hate; it's the choices you made. Tobi, who was slowly dying, who still had life and hope, who could have gone further with us, was snatched from us in an instant by the beast of the air.

Tears welled up in Mr Major's eyes, threatening to spill over, as he continued, "And if it wasn't for me." He collapsed to his knees, the weight of guilt crashing down on him, and his head met the surface of the rock he intended to plant in Ben's face. The impact echoed the heaviness in his heart. "If it weren't for me, Scott would still be alive. He was capable, the most useful among all of you, to be honest. His strength, perception and adaptability might have been his only strength but the ability to change was THERE. We all have latent ability implanted within us. And I'm not talking about skills and talent from God. These aliens gave us a gift to survive but we need to cultivate it effectively. It was evident watching the both of you fight. You didn't just gain a body for nothing. The reason to why we are here on this planet must be in us! In our potential to grow or adapt. Thats what i'm starting to believe."

The vulnerability in Mr Major's voice painted a picture of a man haunted by the ghosts of his decisions. He bared his soul, exposing the scars of his past actions. "When we were at death's door, and the tree root came at us, I wanted. No! I needed to make sure that the life Scott sacrificed to save "me" would survive so he could live on within me."

A quiver in his voice betrayed the emotional turmoil within him. The confession hung in the air, heavy and poignant. "It was the same reason that you Ben, were being such a perverted asshole, was so that the memory of you could live on. So it really confused me when I saw you take up the bodies of the creatures that killed Tobi with reverence. And to have the audacity to then waste the opportunity to escape after Scott gave his life to save not just me, but all of us."

In the stillness of the forest, the silent sobs of regret seemed to reverberate among the trees, the shared pain weaving an unspoken tapestry that tugged at the fragile threads of their camaraderie.

Every uttered word from Mr. Major was a raw expression of the pain etched on their souls, a lifeline holding them together in a heart-wrenching waltz with death. As he wiped the tears from his eyes, his face transformed from the intensity of anger to the solemn calmness of a man burdened by the weight of tragedy.

"Respect all life, respect each other, or get the hell out," he declared. The gravity of his words hung in the air, as palpable as the collective sweat on their brows, a reminder that this was no time for levity.

Mr Major's impassioned speech endured for a gut-wrenching 40 minutes, his words flowing like a torrent of emotions. But even the fieriest of rants eventually succumbed to the weariness that gripped him. Fatigue crept in, tugging at his very edges until he realized he stood alone, the only voice left in the vast wilderness. Slouching against a tree, he released a sigh, a sound akin to a deflated balloon, and closed his eyes as if seeking solace in the arms of sleep.

As the howling of distant wolves grew steadily louder, time seemed to stretch on, minutes melding into an agonizing continuum that felt like an eternity suspended in a surreal limbo. They were all finally getting the rest they truly deserved.

Mr Major, the last to fall asleep and the first to wake, flickered his weary eyes open, fighting the sleep he still craved. Each blink blurred the line between hours and seconds as if he were slipping in and out of consciousness with every breath. Even in his groggy state, his mind instinctively extracted details from the environment, jolting him awake when his eyes focused on what was in front of him.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

There, suspended from a tangle of vines, a small box flickered like a fragile firefly dancing in a gleam of rainbow light. It dangled temptingly close, a mysterious riddle entwined in the branches, beckoning to be solved.

Mr Major squinted at the object, his voice a hushed whisper. "What is that? Now that the sun is up and some light is coming through the canopy... This feeling reminds me of Earth, like those trips through Yellowstone National Park. But what is that box? It's standing out so much now, but at any other time, it probably wouldn't have. No, that's not right. I wouldn't have noticed that box under other circumstances. But what is it really? A box or a native creature?"

His caution wasn't just instinct; it was the weight of an unspoken truth. He stared at the mysterious box as if it were a ticking bomb. There was no way he was rushing into this recklessly. Carefully, he roused the others from their sleep, ensuring that he did not startle them. Slowly, they gathered beneath the box, drawn together by a blend of curiosity, excitement, fear, and hope.

The trio formed a hushed triangle around the box, reminiscent of conspiracy theorists huddled in secrecy. Each pair of eyes fixated on the mysterious object, its surface glinting with an inexplicable allure. Ben's enthusiasm was sparked by the prospect of a potential loot drop, his mind still clinging to the delusion that his life was a game. For Mr. Major and Timmon, it was more than just excitement—it was a potent mix of curiosity and fear. The box held the promise of something beyond their understanding, perhaps proof that their reality was not as straightforward as it seemed.

A singular question reverberated in the minds of Mr. Major and Timmon, echoing like a relentless mantra: What in the world could this box be? This was quickly followed by contemplation of who, in their right mind, would find it amusing to suspend a box in the middle of nowhere. The possibility of an airdrop crossed their minds, but the absence of a parachute left them baffled. More perplexing was the question of why someone would employ such an unconventional method.

Ben had a theory, and he tossed it into the mix like a curveball. "Maybe the game dropped us a reward, or perhaps it's a message from the folks who dumped us in this freaky realm of trees and monsters."

The mere mention of the word "game" put Mr. Major on high alert. If Ben truly perceived their predicament as a game, it could explain his recent erratic behaviour. Still, Mr. Major remained vigilant, unwilling to let his guard down, especially after the unsettling events that had transpired earlier. Caution was his middle name, and they still had a mission at hand: find food, water, and a way back to Earth—or at least a clue that could guide them along their path. The notion that it might be a game didn't sit well with Mr. Major, drawing on his experience with top-notch VR simulators. He knew the tangible feel of those environments, and this was undeniably the real world. Convincing a true believer like Ben of this fact would be a challenge. Regardless, they needed answers, and the box presented their best chance at unravelling the mysteries that surrounded them. The enigma within that box was a persistent thorn in their minds, begging to be extracted, and they were prepared to get their hands dirty to uncover its secrets.

With a determined tug, Mr Major pulled the box free from the vines, causing it to tumble into the space between the three of them. The box now sat there, a mystifying puzzle within their chaotic world. Its surface bore an astonishing 100 lines of bizarre symbols etched like an otherworldly script. As Timmon traced his finger across the box, he harboured no doubt that someone had strategically placed it—a cryptic message waiting to be unravelled. They were gathered around the confounding box, feeling as if they had stumbled upon the first clue of an intergalactic scavenger hunt. The air crackled with anticipation as they prepared to decipher the clues concealed on and within.

Among the intricate symbols etched on the box, six familiar words emerged like old friends showing up at a party. Each word, spoken in a different language, resembled puzzle pieces of a global jigsaw. Yet, one word stood out like a neon sign in the dark night. The only one they could confidently and certainly identify. It was the English word "Key." It was a word that resonated with everyone, a tangible glimpse of meaning amidst the cryptic symbols.

The cosmic irony of survival and dumb luck seemed to be playing an erratic game of tag in their lives. Considering the odds stacked against them, they should have been wiped off the map by now. Yet, there they stood, faced with a mysterious care package that had seemingly fallen from the heavens. It was as if someone out there had thrown them not just a bone but a whole meaty leg.

Questions swirled in the air, twisting like smoke in the forest canopy. Was this some perverse rich-people game? An elaborate experiment with them as unwilling lab rats? Or perhaps they had unwittingly stepped into the plot of an otherworldly anime where ordinary lives were flipped upside-down for amusement. Was there a puppeteer orchestrating their every move, or were they trapped in a colossal snow globe, shaking up their reality? Did answers lie beyond the jagged edges of the volcano's crater, or was the outside world just another layer of the same confounding puzzle?

Seizing the box from off the ground, Timmon's emotions rode a rollercoaster, a tumultuous mix of fury and a peculiar kind of thrill. He threw out a suggestion, tossing ideas like a basketball in a gym. "Maybe we should haul our butts back to camp. We've gotta get to the others ASAP, lay this box thing on the table, and see if anyone's got the first clue about this whole crazy mess."

Mr Major's mind raced his thoughts a torrent of possibilities. "If this is a message or a clue, we need to decipher it with everyone's input. But we can't lose sight of our main objectives—finding food, water, and a way back home. This box might be the key, literally and figuratively."

Timmon nodded, feeling the weight of responsibility. "Alright, let's move quickly but cautiously. This forest has already thrown too many surprises our way."

Ben, ever the wildcard, couldn't help but inject his theory again. "You think it's from the game masters? Maybe it's their way of guiding us or testing us."

Mr. Major gave him a hard look, still wary of Ben's game-centric mindset. "Whether it's a test or a guide, we need to stay sharp. Our lives depend on it."

Observing his companions while holding the box, Timmon recognized that it had been ages since they'd enjoyed any semblance of peace and safety. The brief catnaps had worked a bit of magic on their energy levels, not a lot, but just enough to stir them back to life. However, diving straight back into the forest after all they had been through would be madness worthy of death. Besides, what about the mission to find food and water, the one Tobi had initiated? If not for the settlement, they should fulfil the mission for themselves. Right? Timmon contemplated, weighing the risks against the pressing need for answers and their own survival.

Mr. Major broke the silence, his voice steady and commanding. "So tell us, leader. What's the play? What do you have in mind?"

Timmon, feeling the weight of the responsibility on his shoulders, contemplated the options. "I want to get back to the camp, but the mission objective is closer than ever, and even after completion, how do we get back?"

Ben chimed in with a suggestion, his voice tinged with a hint of excitement. "Maybe see if your menu works."

Confusion furrowed Timmon's brow. "What?"

Mr. Major intervened, injecting a dose of reality into the conversation. "Let me be your reality check: we've been knee-deep in this forest for at least four days, maybe longer. The look in your eyes, Timmon says, 'Mission Accomplished,' but that is far from the truth."

Mr Major painted a grim picture of the reality awaiting them back at the settlement. The people relied on their mission for survival, facing the harsh truth that they might have failed. The dodgy water source and the fruit-flinging monster tree were far from a comprehensive solution. Mr. Major emphasized the potential abundance of resources closer to the settlement, hidden amidst familiar-looking trees. Most of the trees, if you squinted just right, looked like Earth's homegrown variety, so there is a high chance that there is food way closer to the settlement than they thought.

The weight of Mr. Major's words hit Timmon like a sucker punch. The absence of an arborist and a botanist on the team became glaring—the road not taken. Despite the revelation, Timmon's determination persisted, fuelling his desire to venture back into the forest. The promise of safety at the camp was tempting, but he needed a win, even if he had to pursue it alone.

Timmon took a deep breath, the responsibility pressing down on him. "I hear you, Major. We need to find food and water, but this box... it might hold answers. It could guide us or help us understand where we are and how to survive."

Mr. Major nodded, appreciating Timmon's resolve. "Agreed. We tackle both objectives. We search for resources but keep an eye on this box. It might be the key to everything."

Ben, always the optimist, added, "And who knows, maybe the box will lead us to a stash of supplies."

In that pivotal moment, as Timmon's mind whirred in full gear, both Ben and Mr. Major emphatically shut down his determined gaze. They weren't willing to backtrack now, no matter how appealing the safety promised by the camp seemed. Running on fumes, though their injuries had somehow healed, the fatigue ticked away at their borrowed time.

Stepping in, Mr. Major laid out his thoughts like a poker hand on the table, throwing out theories that could've been plucked from a sci-fi flick. The need to track time and date became apparent as he contemplated the peculiarities of the planet's atmosphere, the oxygen levels, or the combination of the forest's canopy and the air messing with their heads. Time here didn't play by the rules, and their internal clocks were on the fritz.

While Timmon heard him, his gut urged a sense of urgency. A whisper or a yell deep down insisted on hauling back to camp, like yesterday. Yet, Timmon suggested crashing for a few more hours and setting off at dawn. As Mr. Major mentioned, it was hard to follow where they were, but they could at least tell when the sun was up, unlike deeper in the forest. However, Ben and Mr Major sensed that Timmon had checked out a while ago when it came to listening to the rest of their plans and theories. The only thing on his mind was the box. He was done listening, and they prayed this wouldn't escalate into a fight or a wrapped mental decay like Ben was exhibiting and the aftereffects of the egg slime on the late Tobi.

So there they sprawled for the day, thinking of all the cool fresh water they had near the monster tree, each eyeing that dang box like it was a pot of gold at the end of a twisted rainbow. Its secrets probably held the key to unravelling the mysteries of this place, this forest, this planet, and they were all eager to crack it open at different times and locations.

As they lay there, Mr. Major couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong with this entire situation. The box, with its strange symbols and the single word "Key," seemed almost too perfect, like a plant or a trap. He considered the possibility that they were being watched, that their every move was part of some elaborate game or experiment. But he couldn't deny the box's allure; it promised answers, maybe even a way out.

Ben, on the other hand, was still grappling with his own reality. The idea that this might all be a game gnawed at him, and the box seemed like the ultimate loot drop. His erratic behaviour, driven by this delusion, was a ticking time bomb. Mr. Major could see it, and it worried him. He needed to keep an eye on Ben and make sure he didn't do something reckless.

Timmon, though, was beyond reasoning. His mind was fixated on the box, and nothing else mattered. He was a man possessed, driven by the need to solve this one puzzle that could potentially unlock all the others. His stubbornness was both a strength and a liability, and Mr. Major knew it. He could only hope that Timmon's obsession wouldn't lead them all into deeper trouble.

As the hours passed, they maintained their uneasy truce, each lost in their own thoughts, their own fears, and their own hopes. The box remained at the centre of their makeshift camp, a silent sentinel of their intertwined fates. They would rest as much as they could, and when dawn came, they would face whatever lay ahead together. For now, all they could do was wait and wonder, the mysteries of the box and the forest surrounding them like a shroud, concealing both danger and salvation.