Nick moved mindfully as he traveled through the forest, going out of his way to avoid bringing his weight down on dry branches or loose piles of rock.

After observing the crunchers up close, he had begun teaching himself how to move more quietly, hoping to boost his chances of evading the pack’s notice. Although it slowed his progress to a crawl, he considered the time to be well spent. Being light on his feet would help him avoid unwanted attention going forward, enhancing his prowess as a hunter and reducing his odds of being hunted himself.

While he practiced his fledgling powers of stealth, Nick had continued to explore the southern forest, seeking out any tools or terrain that could help him defeat the vicious hyena-boars.

At the moment, he was surveying the boundary of the great shroom’s territory, picking an occasional berry while mapping out the border of the danger zone where the hunger-inducing vines grew thick, which he had decided to call ravenous creepers. It was nervous work, but the tension saturating the region helped Nick focus, driving him to refine his technique like a whetstone working its way down a rusty blade.

He couldn’t just pay attention to where he placed his feet. Nick had to remain aware of his surroundings as well, retreating the instant that he spotted the creepers’ vibrant yellow flowers.

He had his potion of antidote resting in one of the loops on his toolbelt, ready to use if he fucked up and was dosed with pollen again. It should protect him if he was quick enough to quaff the vial before the drug overrode his ability to reason. But Nick was hoping to save the murky green potion for an emergency down the road and would hate to waste such a precious resource recovering from a careless mistake.

Thanks to the ever-present threat of drug-wielding flora, this strip of woodlands had not been scavenged as thoroughly as the rest. It was the only spot where he could still forage an occasional berry, helping him stretch out the dwindling supply of crab jerky in his pack.

But stealth training and acquiring an occasional snack were only side goals in scouting the region so thoroughly. His true purpose was to search for a weapon. Nick was certain that he would eventually find what he was looking for. He was less confident that he could acquire it without paying a heavy price in return.

Twenty nervous minutes later, he finally found what he had been searching for over the last two days. Because that was when he spotted a solitary creeper vine wrapped around the base of a sapling that was basking in a pool of sunlight.

Instead of boasting a deep jade stalk and pristine golden flowers, every inch of this vine was desiccated, its once vibrant colors muted to a muddy brown. On sighting the creeper, Nick’s heart began to race, the memory of being trapped within the pollen’s daze rushing back to him in a wave.

Part of him was convinced that this had to be a trick; that the System had laid yet another trap; that Nick would trigger the flowers the moment he drew near, their judgment-reaving pollen washing over him. But he refused to give in to his fear, even if his aversion was justified by his last encounter with the creeper vines.

He forced himself to breathe as he thrust the memories aside. Nick willed his surging pulse to slow, focusing every scrap of his attention on the deadly plant. He walked to one side and then the other, viewing it from every angle before drawing near. Eventually, his nerves began to steady, since what he saw gave every indication that the creeper was lifeless and inert.

All living things die, Nick assured himself, as his roaring fears receded to a quiet whisper in his brain. Especially on a world like this one. As he worked up his courage for what came next, a heady surge of excitement kneaded its way into the mix, blending with his jumbled emotions until an anticipatory grin broke across his face. He was in desperate need of a weapon powerful enough to defeat the bonecruncher pack, and now he was looking straight at it.

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He was hoping that a creeper that had died of natural causes would remain filled with pollen until it decayed or was disturbed. That the drug within would retain its potency for at least a few days beyond the death of the plant. Of course, if the pollen was still active, harvesting it would entail the risk of exposure. A prospect that frightened him deeply despite the antidote hanging from his belt.

Nick had no desire to experience the pollen’s power ever again. The hell that his stomach had endured, paired with a disastrous clouding of his judgment. But if he was going to face the pack and claim their territory for his own, the pollen was the only tool he had found that could help him overcome the crunchers’ overwhelming advantage in both strength and numbers.

He sat down on his heels and made sure that the coast was clear, surveying the area in excruciating detail until he was certain that the tree was free of living vines or threats of another nature. While he waited, Nick reviewed the plan he had concocted, starting with the equipment at his disposal.

One long dagger for my cutting tool, freshly honed and sufficiently sharp. One rag soaked in water to use as a crude filter, limiting my exposure to any ambient traces of pollen. One airtight metal canister to scoop up the pollen and serve as the trap’s delivery mechanism. And, last but not least, one dimensional storage backpack. A secure place to store the drug and a failsafe to shove everything into in case something goes wrong mid-extraction.

After rewetting his rag mask and taking a final look to ensure that the woods were free of beasts, Nick was ready to go to work. Agonizingly slowly, he tiptoed toward the dead creeper, afraid that the flower was designed to blow open in the presence of animals, even after the vine’s death.

Despite the adrenaline dripping into his veins, he closed the distance without encountering further obstacles. After arriving at the base of the trunk, he examined the vine closely to make sure it was really dead, and that no others were lurking in the nearby treetops.

But the woodlands were quiet. Nothing moved beneath the noonday sun. After mouthing a silent prayer to whoever might be listening, Nick turned to face the ravenous creeper, reviewed his plan one final time, then began his extraction surgery.

He sat his backpack down and opened the flap, ready to tear the flower free and shove it inside the dimensional space if anything went wrong. Once his pack was in place, Nick unclipped the metal canister he had found in the dungeon from his beltloop. He opened the tin and secured the lid between the fingers of his right hand, which were wrapped tight around the hilt of his dagger.

Not daring to breathe, Nick held the body of the canister in his left hand inverted so that the opening was facing the forest floor. With immense concentration, he carefully lowered the tin over the blossom protruding from the vine, careful not to let the metal touch the flower on any side.

Ever so slowly, he brought his dagger down and then drew its blade across the stem, severing the flower cleanly without jostling the plant. Without letting himself think about what he was doing, he dropped the dagger and slid the canister’s cap into place in a single, smooth motion. He sighed in relief when the lid snapped tight, sealing the flower inside.

Part of the way through this process, Nick spotted a second, smaller blossom sitting behind the first. He regretted not being able to harvest it as well, as he had lost his other cannister while fending off the shark. The more pollen he collected, the greater the odds that his plan would succeed.

But then inspiration struck. He smiled as he placed the tin in his bag. He concentrated as he reached inside his pack, visualizing bringing out the tin but leaving the flower inside his storage.

To Nick’s immense relief, it worked. The cannister came out empty, clean of any residual pollen sticking to the interior. With a predatory grin, he repeated his pollen-collecting procedure on the second blossom.

This time, his hand slipped as he slid the cap onto the canister. Although he was quick enough to keep the pollen contained, the flower shook as the lid snapped shut, a faint thump conducting through the metal. Shit, I just activated the spreading mechanism. Thank god the first one is still intact.

Expanding on his initial experiment, Nick placed the pollen-filled tin into his backpack once more. He then visualized removing the canister with both flowers sealed inside, verifying their presence through the added weight, before returning the container to his bag for safekeeping. He had already tested to make sure the pollen bomb would be secure in his pack. For whatever mechanism the dimensional storage operated by, once inside, the contents would not be jostled by the pack’s motions, preserving the larger flower in its present, operational state.

I did it. Nick’s eyes lit up as he let loose a bloodthirsty cackle. At last, he was ready to face the pack. Well, nearly ready. He needed to complete a few final tasks, then it would be time to spring his trap.

If everything went well, all seven crunchers would be lying dead in the dirt by the time the sun set tomorrow.