When I ask the bird what she had seen while flying over the forest, I automatically accompany it with a query down the Bond. She sends me a memory of a literal bird’s eye view. It’s not hopeful. Not if we want to make our way out via the trees, anyway.
The vine-strangler copse is so much bigger than I thought it would be, the trees obvious even from above because of their much darker colouring and smaller size than the normal forest giants. From a bird’s view, the copse looks vaguely like a large eye with our little clearing being a speck at the centre of the pupil. The part that I crossed with Bastet and the cubs was like the corner of that eye, the point of the corner touching the banks of the river. Despite being one of the narrowest stretches of trees, it still took us hours to cross. To do the same with the thickest part would probably take two to three days, maybe more depending on the terrain hidden by the canopy.
Fortunately, we wouldn’t have to cross that section as we are in the centre of the ‘eye’, but it’s still as I’d suspected: we’re too far away from the nearest edge of the vine-stranglers to make it through before dark. Heck, even the thinner stretch we would have to traverse might still take more than a day’s light.
Activating my Map, I see with interest that the details of the vine-strangler copse have been added onto my Map. Evidently, what one of my companions sees can also be considered as what I have seen. That’s useful to know for the future. I don’t remember the same addition when Bastet went scouting...then again, I suppose that the lizard-folk’s settlement was added to my Map. Perhaps it was just that there were no other notable landmarks to include. The addition from the bird also shows me that the route we took to the centre was actually surprisingly direct – the trees sure knew what they were doing when they were channelling us in this direction.
But despite all of that, is the known danger of the vine-strangler forest still better than the unknown danger of the tunnel? River was confident that it was a tunnel rather than a hole, but we don’t even know if the whole length of it is passable by all of us. I decide to put it to my companions. After explaining the situation in simple terms, I wait to hear what the three most communicative members of the team think.
I want to go back to mother, Lathani tells me, a little unhelpfully.
“I know, I want to get you back too,” I tell her earnestly. “But do you think it’s better to go through the forest, or try this tunnel?”
I don’t know, she replies, sounding unhappy. I just want mother. With a wordless mewl of complaint, she sinks to the ground and lays her head on her paws. I feel for her – she’s still all too young, not more than a cub, despite her size. I need to remember that. Moving over, I try to give her some physical comfort, stroking her head and scratching behind her ears. After a moment, she shifts her heavy head onto my leg and closes her eyes.
Well, I think we should try the tunnel, announces River with determination flashing across his crest and through the Bond. I send his thoughts through to my other companions, realising that they wouldn’t have received the message.
“Why’s that?” I ask, curious as to why he’s suddenly so keen on the idea.
This is the centre of the Forest of Death, you say? Then I wish to know what is in this tunnel. Perhaps it could indicate the reason for this explosive growth of the Death Trees that so threaten my village. Looking at the map again, I see why the village is so concerned about the trees. While it hasn’t yet been engulfed, the closest edge of the trees is not very far away from the village itself.
The only reason it took us a while to reach when we were running away from the shaman and her entourage was because we weren’t running directly at the tree line, but instead aiming to retrace our footsteps towards Kalanthia’s den. If we’d run directly for the forest, we’d have probably hit it in an hour. Or less, considering that we’d been running. With what River now knows about the sheer immensity of the forest – definitely a forest and not a copse, whatever my quest says – I can understand his urgency. It becomes especially concerning when taking into account the fact that the trees weren’t on our route when Kalanthia came through, not that long ago. If that rate of growth carries on, River’s village is toast.
In that light, I suppose River’s desire to explore the tunnel is understandable: the only reason he agreed to our Bond was because he wanted me to help him save his village. Whether that’s the best idea for our whole group right now is another question.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
“What do you think, Bastet?” Out of everyone’s opinions, frankly, hers is the one I’d trust most. Not only is she the oldest – maturity-wise, at least, since I’m not actually sure how old River is – but she’s also probably the most cautious since she has cubs to protect.
As usual, her response is in a wave of emotion, but I notice this time that it’s more pointed, more defined. It’s easier to interpret which is good for me. She expresses caution, as expected, highlighting that our reason for being here is to rescue Lathani and get her – along with the cubs – back to the den. At the same time, she expresses uncertainty that travelling through the forest is a good idea: we are forever one step away from being caught in a cage that we cannot escape.
Additionally, she raises a point that I hadn’t thought of, being so concerned about the trees: there are other threats in the forest which may not be so affected by our torches. We came off well against the thorn bush, but if we faced something else like that, but bigger and more powerful? Overall, she seems fairly neutral towards both options, preferring whichever seems the least dangerous.
Frankly, she seems to feel the same way I do, if I take my curiosity about the tunnel out of the equation. My conclusion is that we need more information before making a definitive decision either way. If the tunnel is now a completely clear and easy route out of the forest, I wouldn’t want to miss it because I was too scared to set foot in it, but equally if we got ambushed by the salamander’s friends or some other dark-dwelling creature because I’d chosen to go down it while missing information, it would be completely my responsibility.
“OK, thank you for your ideas,” I say aloud, knowing that my thoughts will be automatically projected down the Bonds. “Here’s what we’ll do. Bastet, are you feeling up to scouting?” I’m reluctant to ask her, especially considering how injured she was so very recently, but she really is the best choice for this kind of task. A wave of assent comes from her direction. “Great. Please check out the tunnel, then. Don’t take any risks – at the first sign of danger come back here. If you need help, let me know down the Bond.”
The adult raptorcat agrees, though there’s a hint of derision at the thought that she might put herself in danger unnecessarily. She’s right – I’m probably projecting, but considering how close she was to death, I think I should be allowed a bit of leeway.
She nuzzles the cubs and I sense a message passing between her and them, travelling along a connection that has nothing to do with our Bond. It’s not with words, of course, but if I had to articulate it, I’d have to say it was along the lines of ‘be good and stay with the pack’. Then, she trots down the slope to the tunnel. Pausing at the edge, she’s still for a few moments. Touching the Bond, I get an impression of watchful observation, all her senses extended.
Then she shifts again, slipping over the edge of the hole and descending into the tunnel. The tip of her plumed tail is that last thing we see of her.
Feeling restless, I finish the cooked heart. As it is, I have enough wood – just – to cook all the pieces of meat. They’re rare, and a French version of rare at that, rather than my preferred medium rare, but hopefully it’s enough to avoid any possible negative consequences of eating completely raw meat.
The heart is actually surprisingly tasty – not like steak really, but almost like a gamey chicken. I’ve never eaten a chicken’s heart, but I imagine it would probably taste quite similar; the killer chickens don’t count. Besides, they taste much the same too.
My meal over and feeling rather full, I figure that we need to prepare for the journey ahead. The way I see it is that either we’ll stay here tonight and set off tomorrow morning through the forest, since I really don’t think travelling in the dark through killer-trees is a good idea, or we’ll make our way through the tunnel as soon as Bastet gets back. We could spend some time resting even if we take the tunnel, but I’m very aware that we have no water. My mouth is OK because I’ve just been eating some juicy meat, but it’s going to be getting dry soon. My companions will probably be fine since they can eat the raw meat and partially hydrate themselves from it, but I can’t do that. Certainly not to the same extent, anyway. Even if we have plenty of food, the water situation is pressing. So, ideally, we’ll get going as soon as possible, regardless of the option we choose.
I try to think through our other needs. Whichever way we choose, we’re going to need torches. In the forest they’re needed as protection; in the tunnel, they’ll be needed as illumination. That means braving the edge of the vine-stranglers to search for deadwood since I’d rather be over-prepared than under-prepared. I need to regenerate my mana so I can heal the group. And I need to check my messages because they’re almost causing me a headache with their insistent nagging. Now, which one to do first?
“River,” I say, holding my half-burnt torch over the fire to light it, “take this.” I hand the now-lit torch to him as he comes up next to me. He holds it like a snake that might bite him at any moment. I’d find it sad if I didn’t know why he’s so wary. “It’s OK. Just hold the torch by the unlit end and don’t let the fire anywhere near you. It should be fine.” He doesn’t look particularly reassured, but evidently the fact that it hasn’t burnt him just for holding the wood is enough of a proof as he grips it a little more forcefully. “We’re going to look for wood, OK? I’d like you to keep an eye out. If you see any tree even look like it might be considering attacking us, wave the fire at it threateningly, alright?” He assents a little reluctantly, but I’ll take it.
“Bird, Lathani, please keep an eye on the cubs, OK? We’re not going far – just into the edge of the forest to look for wood. Cry out if there’s an issue and we’ll be back in seconds.”
The bird agrees, disinterest colouring the message. Lathani is still moping, but she agrees too, shifting so that she can keep an eye on the three cubs who are currently playing with one of the salamander’s claws.
Satisfied that things are as much under control as possible, I walk towards the tree line. We’d set up camp on the other side of the salamander’s corpse which by itself is several metres away from the trees. Still, that means that we’re within earshot if anything happens. Even as we walk towards the forest, I see a few branches laying at the roots of the trees just beyond the tree line. This should be a cake-walk. Get in there, grab some wood, then get out. Simple.
What could go wrong?