Hughestace was the first one to notice something.

Given his unsettling now-empirically-backed aptitude for picking up aspects of his environment, him noticing any given thing before the rest of them was not out of the ordinary. It was a far rarer occasion for one of the others to notice something first, and that often left him second in keying in on whatever the thing was.

It was not solely his sharp ear that clued him in this time, though. Indeed, they were all on some subconscious level aware of what they were hearing, but it was unarticulatable for the group at large until the sea elf pointed it out - they were not hearing anything.

Not to say that it was silent, that would have been obvious. The odd ghost of wind rustled through the leaves above, and the small stream in the distance that they passed was still there. The group was hardly quiet themselves, with only Mila and Hughestace able to step lightly, and Mila had been honest with Grant, she had a deep inability to shut the fuck up for any length of time.

But for all that they could hear, there was a clear quiet that set fur, hair, and scales on end. That had been doing so for an hour maybe, by the time Hughestace had vocalized it.

There were no bird songs in the trees. There was no soft rustle of lizards and snakes and mice seeing the oncoming adventurers and making a push deeper into the forest to keep clear of them. There were no distant canine cries, yotel or coyote or otherwise, of packs talking. There was no sound at all of the ambient life that was supposed to still be present.

There was an immediate way to check for a worst-case scenario, and they did exactly that - the nearest not-tidal-pool was choked out with burgeoning pollywogs, all lively in their puddle, the mass pushing away from the (relatively) tail people that looked down on the swarm.

“Well, fuck,” was Hughestace’s contribution.

The pollywogs being alive and well was probably good. It meant they were not walking deeper into the zone of some large chemical or radiation situation. Amphibians were particularly sensitive to changes like that, Mila knew, a Scienceland fact that had ‘turning the fricking frogs gay’ written all over it across her mind.

They were also more susceptible to the magical bullshit counterparts for those, including magical diseases, as blessedly rare as those were. But these little gals and guys were doing just fine, rather lively and without the pulsing technicolor one incorrectly associated with magical maladies.

Even still, Mila could feel the unspoken look directed her way as the real concern hung over the others, “Nah, not dracomorphosis either.” Dragons were things that were heavily varied yet all alike in many ways. How a nearby dragon affected the little ‘wogs would be a total unknown, but they would have surely been affected.

Plus, more telling to Mila, she did not get that subtle metallic taste coating the back of her mouth, all too similar to if she had just gotten crowns put on her molars. Not a taste that ever went away while you were there, but easy enough to push to the back of your mind until something made you pointedly aware of it.

The obvious culprits ruled out, that left them with a whole lot of nothing. Obviously that was better than walking into invisible clouds of roiling poison or radioactive gasses, but it did not make the situation comfortable.

“We keep going, then?” Mila asked, and the rest sounded off, leaving Naw-Naw at the end. Heavily scrunched brows meant their nod was reluctant, but it made things unanimous, and they marched on.

It was not the wound up anxiety of being stalked by the giant mountain lion, because as best they could tell, there was no danger. Instead it was just a low, background feeling of dread. There was no danger, as best they could tell, yet everything with a brain and the ability to do so was either gone or dead silent.

And they were forced to steep in that silence.

It was the hush before a grand storm, or before one of the very rare and mild earthquakes that rocked the region every couple of decades. All the critters knew something was up.

But no sudden tornado dropped down on them, no tremor tickled the leaves. The quiet only continued.

Setting up the big tent was not more difficult on its own, but Mila and Aluca found themselves needling each other more than usual, and it was decided without actually speaking that Rora and Hughestace should gather firewood together. Dinner did not have much chatter running through it, and even the new couple was subdued, and not for their lack of hashing out their relationship.

Not that there was nothing - Mila’s tail decided to wind its way around Rora’s, just near the end. And it was comforting, but it was a comfort that was needed.

Aluca had first watch, yet even as it approached about when the shift should be getting passed on to Naw-Naw, Mila found herself awake. The wind was still there, the soft sounds of the barest rain were still there, but the absence of life noises chewed at her mind. It was a grand mystery that they were literally walking into, and she just knew she was not going to like the answer.

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It validated what those traders’ concerns, though. They might not have even been able to put their finger on what was wrong, but you did not have to for something like this, to know that something was wrong.

Scienceland had weapon programs, probably tested by nations on their own citizens, for that kind of shit. Subsonic frequencies that one could not pick out but that made you feel unwell. Patterns of lines and shapes and colors that unsettled the human viewer without having any real reason.

Color Mila unsettled and feeling unwell, then, if it meant bringing back what the environment was supposed to feel like.

She did not sleep well, even once she was able to conk out. None of them did, and Rora wondered to herself if all of them had been kept up late with their thoughts and disconnected feelings.

For her own thoughts, Rora could still feel the moons. They were ever-present in her mind, even when they were on the other side of the earth. Yet without the life that flourished under the moons, the night had been cold and distant, the silver moonlight in her veins a little duller.

Breakfast was livelier, in that forced way people got when distracting themselves or others. Mila even told a few items out of her repertoire of bird-based jokes, finishing with her routinely-delivered favorite, “Why do birds fly south?”

Everyone knew the answer, both the actual answer and the joke answer that was impending, but Naw-Naw was willing to play along. “I dunno, Mila, why do t’ birds fly south?”

“Because it’s too far to walk!” Was met with the customary groans, and everyone ignored that they felt forced, even as Mila’s mind screamed at her that bird jokes were exactly the wrong thing to move their thoughts off of how there was not a single bird in ear-shot.

Aluca was the one to bring it up, then, as they rinsed off mess kits and took down their tent. “We push forward?” He asked, reluctant.

Unlike with staring down at the pollywogs, there was no immediate chance of answers. For a few painful moments, where the wind decided to stop and the sun stilled any water, the silence reigned supreme.

“We ain’t seen what the actual problem is. Can’t turn around yet,” was Mila’s thought, eventually.

Hughestace agreed, in his own way. “Environment was said to be changed. Here we are.”

“And if it’s bothering us a bit, than surely it would be worse for any other travelers. Fixing it now is best for everyone.”

Aluca and Naw-Naw shared a look as the gnoll considered. When there was a call to be made and there was an expert in the area of whatever the decision to be made was, that expert called the shots. Kept people alive when there was not time to lose.

But here it still seemed safe, there was a choice to be made, and there was no clear expert. For stuff like that, two votes against the more ‘dangerous’ option meant they did not do it. It was not a hard-coded rule, but it worked for them and that’s what mattered.

Aluca broke first. “We continue.” There was no explanation spoken, but something passed between the two. If folks did not know better, the argument could have been made for telepathy. Whatever it was, though, the decision was made, and Naw-Naw let out a deep sigh, but continued to pack anyway.

The continued trek down the road was not better. In fact, Naw-Naw tacitly voting against continuing, even if their vote had never been verbalized, made things feel riskier. Made folks think that maybe they should have listened to the discomfort and voted otherwise.

This was not helped when, shortly after they had taken their lunch and continued on, Mila had reason to stop the group. She had her snout wrinkled and upper lip pulled up in moments, and she tried her best to not look like a bloodhound as she gave two heavy sniffs.

“Is that… is that citrus?” She asked, pulling to the right as the smell seemed a bit stronger there. “Like, lemon. Something close to it.”

Which was maybe crazier than the unnatural quiet, because no way were any lemon trees growing this far north. But, with another deep inhale, she knew it was there. She could not taste it, but damn if it did not feel like she should be able to.

The observation got everyone else sniffing too, trying to catch whatever the pinkest member of the crew had scented, but after a few seconds, Hughestace admitted, “I do not smell anything.”

That was clearly not reassuring to the elf, though, and he carefully pulled one of his javelins out from its quiver, or whatever you called a not-quiver for javelins. The others filtered in that they did not smell it either, but Mila would have sworn on every future dinner that she was smelling whatever it was.

A little bitter, for a lemon, maybe its peel.

The others did not get to gaslighting her, at least. All Naw-Naw said was, “Back’n formation,” and that was all that needed saying to be honest. They had, as a group, overridden the gnoll, but they were not off to die or get each other killed. And having one weird thing was worth investigating, but two weird things was worth preparing for the worst.

Rora travelled in her shining armor and so was largely ready, only drawing her blade and moving to the front. Everyone else barring Hughestace needed a bit more time, though. Naw-Naw’s cudgel was unleashed and both they and Aluca spent a few moments reaffirming where different magical tidbits were on their person, ready for quick and easy deploying.

Mila’s preparations were now the longest, her tail whip coming out and getting attached. Once she gave it a few vicious cracks to make sure it was on safely, she looked up at the others.

Both hands rose up and caught on the handles of her knives, pulling them free and twirling them across her fingers without looking.

Mila knew she looked good enough to kill, and she was ready for it too, as she caught her machetes. The whole last twenty-four hours had been pretty shit, and as far as her thinking was, the sooner they thrashed whatever was causing this, the faster they could end it.

She had not realized how much value she put in the little sounds of life, and now that it was gone, she was ready to get it back, even if she had to fight some bizarre lemon treevenger to do it, fuck the dulling of her blades that would cause!

Her general irritation helped keep her steps and mood light, and the potential end of, or at least more answers about, their job had everyone a little excited. They still felt in control of the situation.

And so, with hearts heavy with false hope, the third sign came. Hughestace let out a sharp “Ah!”, more instruction to halt than a proper yell. “Incoming, something-“ he started, but then spun on his heel, eyes scraping the trees.

And suddenly it was less silent. There was a rhythmic rustling that was at the edges of Mila’s hearing but was growing louder and closer in equal measure. It was coming from three different directions and now the lemon wood cleaner smell was stronger, trying to choke her.

That was secondary, breathing was always optional. That they had three directions of incoming unknowns and only two kobolds ready to kick face was unfortunately the arithmetic of the hour, and the kobold at the read grit her teeth as she got ready to crunch some numbers.