The clattering of dishes, the ambient drip-drop of water upon the capped rooftops, the idle chatter of the mushroom folk—a medley of sounds surrounded the group as they settled within one of the many underground establishments of Mycopolis. A cafe, this one, one which Drew told the kids he used to frequent before life threw him his most recent set of curveballs. It was, of course, carved into the trunk of an oak-sized shroom, the interior host to a spongey floor and ribbed walls. A soft blue bioluminescence permeated the space, and a thick, earthy stench found itself working its way into the group's noses.
Andy had to sneeze, as his shiitake-like server delivered a small porcelain cup of hot tea. The boy wipes his nose and eyes his drink. Dried, sliced caps float around in the dark liquid. He hesitates to take a sip—meanwhile Drew, comfortable as a clam, sits back and slams his drink with his feet propped up on the table. Cici had not sat down yet, as she wandered around the cafe, chatting with the Mycarnids, sifting through their many faded trinkets. A bulk of the decorations throughout had been water damaged in some way or another. Figures, seeing how they had gotten down there to begin with.
Hesitating, the boy finally mustered the courage to take a sip of his tea—a bitter concoction that tasted like soil—he spat it out almost immediately. Feigning a smile, Andy looked back up. Drew let out a hearty laugh.
“Too hot?” He asked.
“No,” Andy replied while wiping his mouth. “Too muddy.”
“Aye. Not exactly a sipper, that.”
“No kidding.”
One of the workers approached Andy with a bundle of warm linens—linens covered in mold and mildew. Though Andy politely declined the offer, the wet boy was very quickly and forcefully scrubbed down. All the while, Drew watched closely, chewing on the rubbery caps at the bottom of his cup. A wide grin was pasted on his scarred face.
“So, Andy, right? Tell me about yourself. Why’re you lookin’ for your dad?”
Andy shifted somewhat nervously in his seat. “It's just, you know. Before I'm stuck here forever, I think...I just need some closure.”
“Your mom, she in the picture at all?”
“No, she…passed. Pretty recently.” Andy said.
Drew's sharp brows grew dull while he chewed the words. His shoulders rolled back, his position on the bar stool growing slack and casual.
“Sorry to hear that, kid.”
“Ain’t exactly your fault, I don’t reckon.”
“Still, I mean…I know what it’s like, yeah?”
Andy’s gaze panned upward. “What do you mean?”
“Losin’ a parent,” Drew sighed as he crossed his legs. “My ma, she was uh…she was taken from me pretty recently too. A group of hunters were after my head, and she was caught in the crossfire.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry.”
“Eh, don’t be. Like you said, ain’t your fault. Besides,” The man furrowed his brows and crossed his arms. “She shouldn’t have been in a place like this to begin with. Guess that’s on me.”
“Your mom, was she a human?”
“Yeah. What about your old man?”
“As human as the day he was born.”
“You really are a pup, then, huh?”
Andy groaned. “You don’t need to put it like that.”
The man laughed, tossing another soggy mushroom into his mouth.
“Anyways, it’s nice you’ve still got him.”
“Is your daddy gone, too?”
“Nah, he ain’t gone, but he might as well be. Haven’t seen him since I was about five, six? He hooked up with some chick, Ma sent him packin', and that was that. She’s really all I got. Or, all I had, I guess.”
Andy nodded along, looking at Drew with slight discomfort. He was never good at dealing with these kinds of conversations. A punch to the gut would’ve been preferable.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated.
“Nah, it’s alright, kid. Life goes on, you just gotta keep up, ya know?”
“…I reckon.” Andy nodded, mirroring the sentiment with a stiff smile. Drew leaned back in his chair and pushed away his empty cup. The conversation briefly lulled, the silence not so deafening as the whistling of kettles and buzz of other patrons continued to fill the air. Glancing around, Andy spotted Cici conversing with the worker at the counter. Figuring it might be time to get going, the boy pushed himself up, using the table as leverage, and slung his bookbag over his shoulder.
“We should probably get goin’, shouldn’t we?”
“Yeah. Still got a long road ahead.”
Drew got up with a grunt, stretching his arms over his head. Andy followed suit, his joints feeling stiff, protesting in pain as he stretched them out. As the two approached Cici, Andy noted that she’d procured a map of some sort. The edges were tattered, the colors faded, but it was legible enough. She glanced up as they approached, her one eye sparkling with excitement.
“Well, well,” said Drew. “What do we have here?”
“Little map of town,” Cici replied. “I think they’ve got a jewelry store around here—we should go!”
“We ain’t here for shoppin’.” said Andy.
Cici rolled her eye. “Well, duh. I mean like…if we ever come back here.”
“We’ll see,” Drew said. “I don’t want you kids making a big deal of this place. It’s flown under Hudson’s radar for this long, last thing these people need is occupation from the Rangers.”
“You think Mr. Hudson would do that?” Andy asked as the group left the building. Drew ran a hand through his hair, moving his messy bangs out of his face. His words were laced with venom.
“All Hudson cares about is order, can’t have anything messing with the status quo. The Rangers dig their claws into anyone who comes to the valley, push their laws onto ‘em. Even the land of magic and monsters’s been wrecked with bureaucracy.”
Bureaucracy? Embarrassed as he was to admit it, Andy didn’t entirely know what that meant—but he did know that Hudson liked to run a pretty tight ship. The man was about as much of a stick in the mud as his middle school principal, his mannerisms bitter, dipped haphazardly in honey and Cajun charm.
The group’s steps pattered against the softened streets of the mushroom village and echoed throughout the damp, cavernous space they occupied. Andy glanced over at Cici—her gaze was fixed on the map, her fingers tracing its lines and patterns. Drew, yawning into his hand, reached for the paper.
“Here, gimme that,” he said.
“Careful!” Cici objected as Drew snatched the paper from her grasp.
"Alright, here we are," he said after a moment, pointing to a tiny blotch on the map that vaguely resembled their current location. Drew slid his finger across the parchment to a different spot, a little ways east of them. The chalky image of a monument loomed on the worn-out map—as expected, another mushroom, pitcher-shaped and wavy-topped.
"Here’s where we're headed. The cave gets dark again up ahead. We’ll have to use our noses.”
Andy blinked. “Our…our noses?”
“Yeah. Not too hard once you get a hang of it. Just try to sniff out the woods.”
“I don’t think I can do that.”
Cici’s gaze shifted to the bioluminescent outlines of the footpath, lines of little, glowing mushrooms catching the eye. Drew's explanations of how Andy’s powers worked very, very quickly faded as the cogs began to spin in the girl’s head. Quickly, she began to pick a small bushel of the things—a makeshift flashlight—she presented the blooming shrooms, a sickly sweet smell filling the air as she did so.
“Hey guys, look! We can use this!”
Drew, turning, registered the scent, his usual grin sliding right off his face. His eyes darted toward Cici, and moreso, her little bushel of fungus.
“Cici,” He hissed “Drop those, now!”
The scent traveled through the air, permeating the mycelium village. Many of the creatures turned their heads, eyes blinking out of sync with one another, drool dripping from their boney fangs, their deformed nostrils twitching.
Though Cici obliged in Drew's request, the group could hear the growing snarls of the Mycarnid populous, the approaching, shuffling footsteps of a quickly forming mob.
One of the dropped fungi rolled into Andy’s foot. Its sinuous flesh began to rip open at the center, strings of mycelium rapidly snapping, the shape of the orifice immediately apparent as it let out a horrid scream. The lot of the picked shrooms began to yell, the snapping of their opening mouths a constant prickle in their ears. Accompanying their screams was the roaring of their full-bodied kin, as a number of Mycarnids descended upon the trio.
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“Run!” Drew shouted.
The trio sprinted through the cavern, the heavy footsteps of the Mycarnid army echoing behind them. Andy’s stubby legs struggled to keep up—Drew gripped his arm and pulled him forward. They navigated the narrow gaps between towering fungi, stumbling over roots which snaked across the floor. Low-hanging branches seemed to swing at their heads. With each ragged breath, Andy could hear the creatures closing in on them, their howls growing all the more menacing.
Drew halted suddenly at a steep drop-off into darkness.
"Dead-end!" he cursed through gritted teeth. The group turned around, watching helplessly as the hoard drew ever closer. Drew clenched his fists as he looked down at his wrists. The magic cuff lowly hummed. Though his eyes glowed bright, shifting to a deep crimson, he couldn’t force much of a change at all. Teeth still clenched, he barked an order to Andy.
“Hey kid, now would be a good time to get hairy!”
Andy glanced over his shoulder, the Mycarnids no more than a few yards away, bulbous eyes gleaming with savage delight.
“I—what? I can’t do that!”
"Just try, alright?" Drew snapped, his eyes flitting between the kids and the impending hoard.
Andy nodded, swallowing hard against the lump lodged in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to summon whatever it was inside him that Drew thought could protect them. But all he could summon up was his fear—a black, choking cloud that filled his every fiber. The Mycarnids were upon them now, their gnashing fangs and twisted forms mere feet away. Andy's heart pounded wildly, sweat trickled down his temple.
Drew stepped forward, adopting a defensive stance. His knuckles whitened, and as the first of the creatures stepped forward, the man let his fists fly. In a frenzy of motion, he pummeled one Mycarnid after the other, knuckles bruising their soft flesh, claws severing the hoard’s grabbing hands.
Meanwhile, Andy watched, in horror, as one of the many Mycarnids slipped past Drew’s onslaught and made its way toward him. Dread tightened its grip on his heart, his pulse pounded in his ears as he observed the creature's towering, approaching form. The Mycarnid lunged, spores flying from its mouth, illuminated in the eerie glow of the surrounding fungi.
The terror was paralyzing. Andy’s legs felt heavy as stone, his lungs tightened like a vice. He tried to dodge, to run past the leering creature but it was too late—his vision spun as he was caught off guard by another that had flanked him, tackling him to the ground.
His cries were swallowed by the deafening roars, Andy being restrained by slender tendrils which crept up his arms and legs, attaching small fruiting bodies onto his skin that bloomed instantly. It tickled at first, then itched and then seared as if latches were being sunk directly into his flesh. He tugged at the Mycarnid growths on his legs with panicked shouts—but every little thing he tore from his body was quickly replaced with another, like the heads of a hydra—no matter how often he would chop away, there was no stopping the process. The Mycarnid pinning him down got up close, its rank spit dripping onto Andy’s face. All this chaos was too much. All that was happening, all of the danger, the constant fearing for one’s life, it was overstimulating. Overwhelming.
Another feeling began to well up in Andy’s chest—warmth, vigor, energy. His eyes, pinned shut from fear, felt as though they were burning up when he had opened them again. A white-hot light enveloped his irises. Something else had woken up inside of him, a stirring presence, an unruly beast—having had more than enough, he shoved the Mycarnid away in spectacular fashion. The thing flying over the edge of the cliff, screaming as it found itself plummeting to its deep, dark depths.
Andy doubled over, a searing pain taking over his body. He could feel each individual column of his spine popping outwards, the flesh on the backs of his hands blazing with the feeling of itchy, sprouting fur. His claws grew longer, his fangs bleeding as they forced themselves out from his gums. Then, just as abruptly as the changes had began, they stopped. Andy was left writhing on the floor, stuck halfway between two forms, his body still not ready for its coming metamorphosis.
The hoard continued its descent upon the group, but while the boy was locked to the stoney floor, quivering and choking on his own blood, Cici would take him up by his arms and start pulling him away. All the while, Drew kept up his onslaught, utilizing the de-limbed body of one surly Mycarnid as a sort of shield, pushing back against the hoard, punching them in their grisly faces from behind.
Cici stayed silent while dragging Andy away, each step taken light and laced with terror, heart pounding in sync with the frenzied rhythm of attacks. This fight was far from over, it seemed, and as Drew continued to push back, doing his best to prevent the creatures from spilling toward what little footing they had, Cici looked about, trembling, tightening her grip. To their left, there was a narrow gap in the wall, the potential being there to squeeze through…though there was very much a possibility that this merely led to another dead end. They hadn’t much of a choice. It seemed to take a lifetime before she finally reached the opening. Cici heaved Andy towards it and turned back to see Drew still holding back the mob, albeit with increasing difficulty. His energized resistance somewhat dimmed—sweat drenched his face and his breaths came in fitful gasps.
“Drew!” she yelled. “Come on! This way!”
Drew gave one last mighty shove, knocking a small group of the Mycarnids over like dominos before barreling toward the narrow exit. The hoard bellowed, stumbling to their feet, some of them crawling toward the group on their hands and knees, some breaking into full on sprints.
Just before the calcified claws of the beasts can reach them, Andy, Cici and Drew all manage to slip just out of range, siddling carefully through the claustrophobic crack in the wall. The hot breath of vengeful Mycarnids blasted the trio's faces, the gnashing of their teeth echoing loudly in the cramped crevasse. The group held their breaths, hearts beating hard against their chests. They’d waited for the inevitable attack, for one of the creatures’ cold fungal hands to wrap around their ankles, to grab at their throats, but it never came.
The Mycarnids, soft, wet eyes glared through the darkness. They could not coordinate well enough with one another to fit through the narrow opening. Several got stuck on each other’s bodies trying to force their way through. Groans and growls filled the gap, as the group squeezed through the increasingly tight passage. Though relieved, new fears surfaced as their vision was obscured by the total blackness they now found themselves enveloped in. Their only source of light were the Werewolves’ intense eyes, but even those seemed to grow considerably dim since their escape.
Drew took a moment to lean against the cold stone wall, breath ragged, sweat wiped from his furrowed brow. He seemed to sag, struggling to muster up any more energy. The scent of blood was pungeant.
The group continued moving, on and away, hoping to come out to some kind of clearing on the other side. Thankfully, the space finally seemed to open up after a few minutes of navigating the cramped passage—a moment of peace for them all to regroup. Drew once more tried to eye the map Cici was given, but it was a futile attempt given the all-consuming darkness—he could hardly see an inch past his own nose. Frustrated, he hurriedly folds it up and stuffs it back in his pocket.
“Damn it. Damn it! We were right there!” he shouted.
Cici gulped. “H-hey, it’s alright, we’re just on a bit of a detour, that’s all.”
Andy groaned and clutched his chest, partial transformation reversing, the itchy fur shedding from his arms and cheeks, spine popping back into place. Cold, wet, sore, winded, was he ever going to get a break from all of this? It didn't seem likely. Trapped in a deadly, dark cave, no end in sight, no light to guide their way—and to top it all off, in the heat of the moment, he nearly lost control. He really, nearly lost control.
Hearing the boy's sniffling, Drew let out a soft huff, collapsing against the wall next to Andy, sliding down, massaging his own wounds. His mind mulled over the situation. Thoughts of anger, frustration and resentment for Cici, the kid being so impulsive, nearly getting the three of them killed. At the same time though… they were just kids. There was no reason to get uppity about an honest mistake like that. No reason to ridicule an already blubbering mess.
“Hey, kid, you good? They get you at all?” Drew asked.
“No,” Andy shook his head. “I-I think I’m okay.”
“Alright, that’s good. That’s really good. You did good, okay?”
“…Okay.”
The following silence was long and drawn out, the only sound being that of the distant, struggling Mycarnids and the trio’s soft breathing. There was something else there, ambiently humming, a soft song to follow the whirlwind of terror the group just forced themselves through. Andy was nearly too exhausted to realize, but the sound was coming from inside his bookbag. Bingo—the crystal ball! He'd nearly forgotten he had it on him. As he pawed through his bag, pulling it out, the thing lit up the small cavern the group found themselves trapped in, painting the mossy walls with its pulsing magenta light. Now that he was able to see Drew’s face again, Andy could see it was morphed into a scowl.
“Have you had that this entire time?” Drew asked with barely-masked rage.
Andy felt his cheeks turn flush as the realization set in, his shoulders slouching.
“M-must’ve slipped my mind,” He responded.
“Give me that,” Drew growled as he snatched the orb away.
He hovered the soft glow of the orb over the map, chewing on his lower lip. They wouldn't be able to go back the way they came, but maybe there was some other path that they just weren't seeing. Several holes in the wall beckoned the group to just try and explore them, but only a scant few looked big enough to hold a person—worse yet, only one of the paths really seemed to be mapped out.
“Tch,” Drew scoffed. “They didn’t wanna make it easy. Cici, you feel like checkin’ out a few of those holes?”
“Aye, aye, captain,” she responds. With a salute Cici begins to inspect each of the small openings she can manage to squeeze into. Her slender limbs, aerodynamic head and somewhat flattened body allowed for much ease in that regard. Andy and Drew lagged behind, ogling the map for any way that didn’t require a belly crawl. Unfortunate that it would be the only way, as just as they began to inspect a promising person-sized hole, Cici’s voice echoed from within a particularly tight looking space.
“It’s over here, guys! I can feel wind!”
“Great,” both boys groaned. Drew got to his knees in front of the opening, looking down the space with the light of the orb. About a hundred feet away, Cici’s bulbous eye blinked back at him before she ducked out of sight.
“Hurry up!” she called. Drew turned to Andy.
“You first, kid.”
Andy rolled his eyes and got down on his hands and knees, squeezing through the tiny passage as quickly as he could. He could feel the sharp stone walls pressing in on him from all sides. It eventually became too tight of a squeeze to even walk on all fours—Andy’s limbs were already stiff from the earlier fight, and now he found them pinned to his sides. He was reminded of an earthworm wriggling its way through the soil after a particularly nasty storm. Fitting, he thought, as he too felt as though he was being swallowed by the rock. Inch by agonizing inch, he forced his body forward, the stone scraping against his skin, roughing up his elbows, raking at his knees. Just behind himself, Andy could hear Drew’s own various curses and grunts, something which offered him both a bit of relief and a bit of dread. He didn’t dare think about what would happen should they both get stuck down there.
And, suddenly, like that, the dreaded squeeze was over. Andy could feel the ground beneath him shift from sharp granite to a silky silt, from cold stone to moist soil. A few insects crawled across his hands as they grasped at the slippery moss. Just up ahead, he could see the cave finally opening up, moonlight pouring in from the outside. When he finally emerged from the claustrophobic tunnel, Andy found himself in the mouth of a cave, the thick smell of the woods lingering just beyond its maw. A few coyotes danced around the outskirts of the cave, suspiciously sniffing at the air, keeping a cautious distance from the interlopers in their home. Cici must have done something to scare them off.
Once Drew got the top half of his body through the opening, he went limp, winded, taking a moment to breathe in and out. Andy and Cici went to help pull the man out of the cave—he was quivering, clammy to the touch, not a fan of tight spaces. Being drenched in his own blood, it didn’t take long for the kids to begin looking him up and down for open wounds. However, they found very few, the most of them having already scabbed up, a scant few having scarred over entirely. Andy could feel a warmth of sorts replacing the stinging of his knees—checking, he saw his scraped, marred skin slowly piecing itself back together.
It was all a bit much. The boy threw up on the rocks.
“You good?” Cici asked.
“All good.” Andy replied as he wiped his mouth. A bitter laugh from Drew.
“Just full of surprises, ain’t ya?”
“Surprises, yeah,” Andy blinked away the nausea. He turned to Drew, who still held the crystal ball in his left hand. The boy approached, gesturing for the man to hand it over. Drew obliged.
“What now?” Cici asked.
“Now…” started Andy, “Now, I ought to make a call.”