Hours later, Eliot had given up hope on ever reaching civilization again. His power had been less than helpful. There were so many stories about young men dying alone in the words, so many he was starting to think this whole expedition had been a terrible idea.

As the sun began to sink Eliot morbidly wondered if he would survive long enough to make some sort of home in the inexcapeable jungle he found himself in, or if it would eat him alive before the day’s end.

He would have bet money on the former, which actually made him feel a bit better, Eliot was awful at gambling. After giving up completely on following the map, and instead looking for a cave to live in, or maybe even an especially large tree root, the young man stumbled upon his destination.

Eliot stood there, gaze to the sky, tears streaming down his face. Some old man had sent him into the woods with what had more in common a jumble of scribbles than a map, but he had survived. The air tasted sweet, the sun felt pleasant, the people looked at him more consideringly.

He paused, wiping some of the tears out of his eyes to get a better look. Concern wasn’t the right word, he thought as he got a better look. They stared at him with… he smacked his fist into his palm as he figured it out, a mixture of concern and suspicion. Yes that was it, these people’s eyes were filled with concern and suspicion.

The next few moment were a blur as Eliot was tackled to the ground, kicked more than a few times, and was then held at sword and gunpoint.

***

Eliot's head throbbed as he lay sprawled on the ground, the press of a sword tip against his throat and the cold metal of a gun barrel digging into his temple. Rough hands patted him down, searching for weapons. He tried to protest, to explain himself, but each attempt was met with a sharp jab or a barked command to shut up. The roughly jostled Eliot until his back pressed against the rough bark of a tree. The rebels who had tackled him now stood in a loose semi-circle, their weapons trained on his prone form.

“Shut up.” A young woman commanded, and everyone did. Eliot could tell she scared her own people a bit, so he was outright terrified. She leaned down towards him, with a flat expression asked, "Where did you come from?"

Eliot gulped nervously before answering, "The old thatcher's place on the edge of town. I was looking for Guiles." He paused, but she kept looking at him expectantly so he kept talking. "I told him the rooster crows before dawn."

Her response was almost too pleasant, with an underlying hollowness that sent shivers down Eliot's spine. It reminded him of his first girlfriend's tone when she already knew he had been kissing the baker's daughter. But he couldn't help it - she smelled like freshly baked bread.

"I want to believe you," the woman spoke again, her voice tinged with regret. "But there are a few flaws in your story."

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“Like what?”

The woman pointed to the cluster of hovels in the clearing, “We’re at ‘old thatcher’s place’.”

“You take the Edge of Town walking path to get here.” She pointed to a sign that clearly labeled the road Edge of Town.

She then pointed to a road sign that showed a road called ‘edge of town’. One that when Eliot looked down, he could actually see, not more than a 30 minute walk away, the town.

“‘The rooster crows before’ dawn is gibberish.” Eliot nodded at that, he thought so too.

“And most importantly,” the woman leaned in closer, the woman pointed at herself. “I’m Guiles.”

Guiles stare was flat and eyes cold as she looked Eliot right into Eliot’s soul. Who as the woman had been talking went from looking scared, to incedingly confused.

“Then where was I?” Eliot thought about the building he’d been in he thought was ‘old thatcher’s place’, and who he had found inside of it, “Who was that old man?”

For the first time Eliot really looked around at the random clearing in the middle of the woods, with nothing but a walking path, which he hade’t taken, to get there.

“How did i even get here?” Eliot asked, confused.

The woman looked at him consideringly before asking, “ are you on drugs?”

Eliot laughed, and the semi-circle of sword and guns pointing at him straightened up a bit, “No, just a little drunk.”

Guiles nodded as if that made perfect sense. “So a drunk walked up here, out of the monster infested woods that only this morning I was absolutely certain was ‘unpassable’ how did you get through the woods?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Eliot handed her the map.

The woman snatched up the map, looked at it, squinted a bit. flipped it over, flipped it back over again, nodded a few times, and then wadding the thing up and threw it in Eliot’s face. “This is utter nonsense!”

A single tear dropped down Eliot’s face, “I know.”

“How did you even follow the directions?”

“I was so lost, I thought I was going to die…” A sound came out of Eliot that was somewhere between a chuckle and a sob.

Guiles let out a long-suffering sigh, her shoulders sagging slightly as she regarded Eliot with a mixture of exasperation and grudging amusement. The sheer absurdity of the situation seemed to have taken the edge off her suspicion, replaced by a weary resignation.

"Look," she said, her tone softening just a fraction, "I don't know what game you're playing at, but I've got more important things to worry about than a lost, drunk kid with a scrap of paper he calls a map."

She waved a hand, and the rebels lowered their weapons, though they kept their eyes trained on Eliot, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. Guiles crouched down, bringing herself to eye level with the young man. Up close, Eliot could see the fine lines etched around her eyes and mouth, the shadows of sleepless nights and endless worry.

"I'm going to give you one chance," Guiles said, her voice low and intense, "to explain yourself. No more nonsense about roosters and old men. Just the truth. What are you doing here?"

Eliot swallowed hard, his mind racing. He could feel the weight of Guiles' gaze, the pressure of the rebels' scrutiny. There were moments, Eliot had started to recognize, key moments that pivioted the direction that life took, that the world took. There were large ones that did little, and small ones that tilted the very world. His power could ever so slightly alter those, and if there was a time he needed to, now was it.

The young man took a deep breath and started to sink into his devil fruit power, to figure out exactly what was going on here to bend the story of it all to his-

Guiles slapped him in the face. “What were you doing?”

“… nothing?”

“Why’d your face get all scrunched up like you were about to go to the bathroom.”

“Is- is that what I look like when i use that?”

“Use what?”

“My devil fruit power.”

“Your what now?” Guiles asked.

“Should I haven mentioned that sooner?” Eliot looked around at the unfriendly faces, “Oh no, I shouldn’t have mentioned it at all.”