Down by the river, took a little walk. Ran into Dead Reds...and had a little talk. We pushed them, kicked them, and threw them in the river. We don’t need no Dead Reds hanging around! – graffiti spray painted into the cliff by Whisper*

Operation Menu: Phase Dinner (D+7 hours)

By the meandering river reed plants slumped over from the dew at the edge of their leaves. A pair of ducks swam by. The sun peeked over the distant horizon.

Heather stood by the riverbank; her toes wiggled in the soft mud making a squishy sound with every move. Four black candles were pushed into the ground around her. The soft light flickered by the passing breeze.

Two white rats with long whiskers and tiny backpacks thumped their tails on a pair of bongos behind them. Heather began to dance to the music. Her hips swayed to the side as the drumming grew louder. She spun around within the circles of candles, her long dress swirled around her.

The rhythm of her dancing picked up, and the rats whipped their tails faster.

Heather moved her arms high up in the air, then she suddenly brought them down to the ground.

The drumming stopped, and the rats ran away.

The water in the river bubbled. A thick rose from the surface of the river and spread out like a blanket. Crouched down on a rock on an embankment, Whisper was busy spray painting a message on the side in neon blue.

“Done?” asked Whisper.

“Yeah, it should last for a few hours,” Heather said turning to Whisper. “Are you done desecrating nature?”

Whisper painted a middle finger on a rock and smiled.

“I am now,” she said admiring her artwork.

Heather rolled her eyes and began to pick up the candles and snuff them out. After checking to see how much of the candle was left, she carefully packed them into her bag with a blue silk ribbon.

“We need to pop smoke before Red starts raining hell down on us,” Whisper said. “You saw the flair, right?”

“Yeah, I saw it,” replied Heather.

Picking up the bongos, Heather followed Whisper along the river. Heather climbed up the embankment, while Whisper jumped from rock to rock.

“Can’t you sprout wings or something?” Whisper asked, flapping her hands wildly.

“And give away our position? Pass,” Heather said pausing, she checked the position of the fog.

Inch by inch it creeped along the ground hugging the land like a soft blanket.

Heather placed her hand on the dirt of the embankment. The ground vibrated, and something heavy was moving around. The warmth from her hand drained away. Heather’s face soured.

“Hell, I know that look,” Whisper said and pulled Lullaby from her back.

The fog halted.

“Another druid is here,” Heather whispered and slid down the embankment towards the forest.

Whisper jumped down and followed Heather and Whisper went twenty meters into the fog. She kneeled and placed her hand on the ground again as Whisper stood next to her.

“Two warriors 3 o'clock, druid 9 o’clock,” Heather said in sign language.

“I’ll get rid of the two, and join you,” Whisper replied in sign language.

Whisper disappeared into the dense fog, and Heather ventured in the opposite direction, her steps chaotically altered by her ever-changing speed and rhythm. As she paused to check if her target had shifted, the distant cries of a small bird reached her ears. It flitted on the ground, catching her attention.

Guided by the sound, Heather changed direction. Somewhere behind her, the clash of weapons and a piercing scream echoed through the thick fog, followed by a second, more guttural cry. Heather continued and traced the source of the fluttering, she discovered a yellow bird with a yellow bill, frantically struggling on the ground. Its leg was entwined in a wire.

Whispering reassuring words to the distressed bird, Heather carefully untangled its leg. Cupping the trembling creature in her hands, she inspected it to ensure it was unharmed.

Holding her hands up in the air, she encouraged, “Fly away, tiny one. This place is too dangerous for you.”

As she released the bird, it took off, soaring into the sky.

“Go home, go home,” Heather whispered.

Following the wire, she traced it to where it was staked into the ground. Ahead, the fog cleared, revealing an older teenage girl standing at the tree line. Dressed in a red hoodie, with pink hair and black leather pants, the mysterious figure observed Heather with a discerning gaze.

“Greetings and well met, sister. I’m Heather Thornewood, and you are?” Heather inquired.

The woman stepped closer, revealing eyes completely white except for two dots serving as pupils.

“I’m Emily of the Blackett Forest, and I’m not your sister, friend, chum, or whatever else you fuzzy bunnies call yourself these days,” Emily retorted.

Continuing her advance from the tree line, she licked her ruby-painted lips, grinning to reveal a row of teeth filed and sharpened to a point.

“Though 'chum' does sound delish,” she added, swinging her hand curled into a claw grip.

Heather swiftly jumped back and sidestepped to the left, narrowly avoiding the second attack that swiped where she had just stood. Emily's eyes narrowed to pinpoints as she raised her hand, and the tips of her fingers glowed red.

Recognizing the impending danger, Heather thought, "She's about to summon something," and swiftly pulled out a candle.

Snapping her fingers over the wick, sparks ignited the candle. Waving her hand across the flame, it grew larger and brighter with each pass. Once it doubled the length of the candle, she waved her hand again, sending the intensified fire shooting toward Emily.

Emily spun around on her heels, and the fog cocooned around her, dispersing the flame. As the fire died down, Emily burst through with a pike in her hand, its blade layered with rows of shark teeth that dripped gooey saliva.

“Fire, really?” hissed Emily. “Why would you do something so stupid when you've given me the fog, which I counter with?”

Heather swiftly whipped her hand, scooping up the flame as Emily swung the weapon wildly. The pike's blade came dangerously close to Heather's face, prompting her to raise her hands for protection. The swing caused Heather to float up into the air, like a feather in the wind. Emily shambled forward, but the force pushed Heather towards a pine tree. Landing on a branch with one foot, Emily threw her weapon down, and it disappeared in a puff of smoke.

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“Fine, looks like I’ll have to do this another way,” Emily growled, punching the ground.

Black mold sprouted from the earth, covering her hands and arms.

“That doesn’t look good,” Heather thought, and with a single wave, she dispersed the flame from her hand.

Placing her hand on the bark, Heather stepped into the pine tree.

“That won’t help you,” Emily said.

With a burst of speed, she slammed her fist into the tree. The mold moved from her hands and into the tree, and the black tendrils traveled up the pine. The once-green pine needles turned black with decay.

A loud boom of thunder rumbled in the distance. High in the air, the whistle of heavy projectiles screamed, and with a pop, they burst just above the treetops. The shockwave hit the tops of the trees, sending down a mix of steel and wooden shrapnel, raining down amidst the heavy gunfire that echoed around the battlefield.

Heather had bonded with the tree, but her primary escape route was now covered in the creeping black mold.

“It moves faster than anything I’ve seen before. This Emily must have enhanced the mold,” Heather thought as she pushed her body down into the roots.

The pine tree’s roots intertwined and mingled with other plant roots. Before making another jump to another pine tree, she thanked the tree for the help.

Traveling up the trunk, Heather stepped out onto a branch and, from around the corner, saw that Emily was standing in the middle of a ring of mushrooms that had sprouted up, capped with large puffballs. More were appearing every second.

“Whatever that is, it can’t be good,” Heather thought.

Her heart began to thump as she was forced to swallow the lump in her throat. Beads of perspiration ran down her forehead.

“No,” Heather told herself. “Calm down, think this through. Remember the scientific method. I need to find a way to counter her attacks. Which element can I use to beat her? Step one: research.”

Heather closed her eyes and leaned against the tree. Her mind began to clear, and within her thoughts, she saw the image of a wave. The wave grew in strength, but it was snuffed out by a much larger wave.

Emily began to chant in some non-descript language, her voice growing louder. Trying again, Heather envisioned a stone in the middle of the field. The chanting quickened, and the rock was crushed by another rock.

“Can I beat her with air power?” Heather wondered.

The image of a gust of wind was blown away by a stronger breeze.

“I see the pattern, overwhelming force,” Heather thought, grinning. “Step two, check the hypothesis.”

Heather closed her eyes again and pictured a bright orange flame. As predicted, another larger flame overwhelmed it. The next round of shelling rained down, and Heather waited until it stopped.

Footsteps crunched the broken branches and wood that littered the forest floor.

“Step three, test with an experiment,” Heather thought, pressing her hand against the tree. “Too bad this will give my position away, but I have no choice.”

“Plant awakening,” Heather whispered, pushing her life force into the tree.

Checking the network, Heather found what she was looking for—a vine that crept up a nearby tree. She transferred a second burst of energy to the vine as it began to sprout spikes. Emily stopped suddenly and searched around.

Heather activated the next level of ‘plant awakening,’ ‘plant mutation.’ The spikes on the vine grew longer. She flicked her fingers, and the vine lunged toward Emily. The mushrooms exploded, disintegrating the attacking vine. The spores from the mushroom reached the sap, the lifeblood of the vine, causing an explosion. The burst sent sharp spikes flying in every direction, a few managing to hit Emily in the face and stomach.

“Now I can finish this,” Heather said. “I just need the terrain to be more in my favor. Sorry, tree.”

Heather pushed her hand into the tree and jumped off the branch. As she fell, her hand split the trunk in half. When Heather hit the ground, she ripped out the two shards of wood. Emily jumped back.

“So why do you hate your kin so much?” Heather asked, holding the splinters in her hands.

Teeth sprouted from Emily’s hands. She moved her fingers back and forth, making clicking sounds.

“I told you before, you aren’t my kin; you are nothing but prey to me, hippie,” Emily said, suddenly halting.

Heather ran her fingers across the wood, compressing and smoothing it down. Emily bared her sharp teeth in a sinister grin.

“What's wrong with peace and love?” Heather asked.

The grin disappeared from Emily’s face.

“What’s wrong? Nature isn’t about buttery wholesomeness; it’s brutal. A fight for survival! Not some sky-clad dancing around a fire. When are you fuzzy bunnies going to realize that?” Emily said as she began to walk in a semi-circle around Heather.

Heather held the stick to the light, examining the quality. Satisfied, she repeated the same procedure on the next one.

“Okay, nature can be brutal. I can admit that, but there’s always a balance to it which evens out the violence,” Heather said.

“Pfft, are you trying to talk your way out of this, you one-trick pony?” Emily asked.

“I only need one trick to beat you,” Heather said, holding the two slivers of wood out in front of her like a pair of chopsticks.

Heather swept her foot in front of her and pointed the sticks above her head. Emily held her hand in the air, and the pike once again appeared. A distant boom shattered the silence of the forest.

“Shouldn’t we wait a bit?” Heather asked, pointing to the sky and jumping over half of the pine tree near her.

The next round of shells whistled overhead and detonated 300 meters away.

Emily ran toward Heather, swinging her weapon wildly in random directions. Heather ducked under the first swing and ran to the edge of the clearing, 10 meters away. Emily jumped high in the air with her weapon raised above her head. Heather sidestepped the attack, which missed her by a few inches. The next swing Heather parried with the chopsticks and sent the blade into the tree.

Emily growled and yanked the blade out. She then thrust the pike and jumped to the side while using her chopsticks to push it away. The stick stuck to the weapon.

“What the…?” Emily asked as she inspected the stick.

She gripped it tightly and yanked it off, attempting to toss it away. It stuck to her hand. Then she began to violently shake her hand, but the stubborn sliver of wood remained attached.

Heather moved behind Emily and jammed the remaining chopstick into the girl’s back.

Emily hissed, “Do you really think that will kill me?”

Heather said in a light playful voice, “Return home.”

The sticks pulled Emily through the air, and she was slammed against the split tree. She shook her head, clearing the stars in her vision away.

Emily’s muscles grew bigger, and she added a few more inches to her height.

“I’ll rip your arms off and beat you with them,” she screamed.

The sap from the tree began to ooze out and covered her arm. The sap continued to rush out and swallowed her shoulder.

“Rotting touch!” Emily shouted, and her free arm turned black with mold.

She desperately punched the sap but pushed her hand only a few inches inside the sticky mess. More flowed out like water and covered her torso, legs, and neck. Emily continued to struggle as it finished covering her.

“I realized something, Emily of the Blackett Forest,” Heather said as she pushed Emily’s pink hair from around her ear. “All your skills seem to be centered around overpowering other known and widely used druid abilities.”

The sap hardened and turned to amber. The material creaked and crackled as it solidified.

“But none of your countermeasures could defeat anything that wasn’t on the druid skill tree. I may be a one-trick pony, but you are a no-trick pony,” Heather said.

“This ain’t over, fuzzy bunny,” Emily said as she struggled against the hardened amber.

“For you it is,” Heather said, and her fingernails began to grow in length.

They changed to thick ivory-like claws, and Heather stabbed them into the back of Emily’s neck. She turned pale blue and disappeared. Heather inhaled deeply and retired the scrunchie around her curly brown-red hair. From the corner of her eye, she noticed something standing on a branch.

Perched on top of a tree, Whisper clapped.

“How long were you standing there?” Heather asked, wrinkling her nose at her.

“Jus’ got here. I would’ve been here sooner, but more and more Reds kept showing up,” Whisper said and jumped down. “Fuzzy bunny, I gotta remember that.”

“Really?” asked Heather.

“I can’t keep calling you hippie Heather; I need new material,” Whisper said, jotting down the phrase in her notebook. “Let’s see if we can find the others.”

Heather relaxed her stance, and they ran off deeper into the forest.

***