Before

I curse out loud. Suspecting it won’t do any good, I pull my axe out and start hacking at the roots ahead of us. As I thought, as soon as I get through a single root, it’s quickly replaced by another. Even worse, a root comes shooting out of the branches above at me. Leaping aside, I look in shock at the arboreal spear which is as thick around as my wrist. I didn’t realise they could move that fast – I’d only seen them shift slightly. Perhaps now we’re in its trap, it has no need to be stealthy. Though I reckon it’s a bad sign if our attacker has the intelligence to make that sort of choice.

Backing up to where Bastet is looking at the trees around, a growl rumbling in her chest and her teeth bared, I wonder what our attacker actually is. An animal mimicking the trees around? Or is is the trees themselves? Can it be? I mean, I know Ents are a thing, but could there possibly actually be trees capable of fast movement? Frankly, after everything I’ve seen, I can’t ignore the possibility. Especially given the current evidence.

But if it is the tree – potentially trees – then how on earth am I going to deal with it? I don’t think my knife or Bastet’s claws are going to do much against wood. As for my mace and axe, I think that such an approach has already proved to be a failure.

The tree isn’t going to wait for us to make a decision. It shoots a couple of roots at us which we both dodge relatively easily. If that was the only thing it could do, we’d be fine. As it is, the tree apparently has another trick up its sleeve. Well, bark. I notice as we continue dodging, that the space is getting smaller and smaller, the roots around us moving closer bit by bit.

If the tree can close the trap, I don’t know why it doesn’t do so immediately, but maybe it has some constraints I don’t know about. Watching for a couple of moments, I realise that the tree is actually sending down new roots straight into the ground on the inside of the wall and then withdrawing the ones behind, only moving three or four roots at a time. It’s a good strategy to avoid leaving even the slightest gap, but it seems a bit inefficient. Still, we’re done for if we don’t get out of this mess before we run out of space to dodge the spearing roots. What are we going to do?

My pessimistic prediction about Bastet’s claws and teeth is proven true as she starts trying to fight the spearing roots off after I share my realisation about our dire situation. She can knock the roots off course, her weight and strength obviously enough to divert the piercing spears of wood. That’s where her capabilities end, however. Even when she manages to trap a root temporarily on the ground and chew it, all she achieves is getting a mouthful of splinters and another root shooting at her head.

At the same time I try to once again make my way out of the cage, hoping that Bastet’s distraction might be enough for me to create a small hole to exploit. No luck. The tree doesn’t seem capable of directing more than two spearing roots at a time along with the three or four trapping ones, but it retracts the spear it had shot towards Bastet’s head and then sends it shooting out at me. I dodge once more, my mind racing.

Can the tree only shoot the root straight? Does it not have any ability to use them like tentacles? At the thought of tentacles, an involuntary shiver goes through me. Even in this desperate situation, that monster in the cave still has the power to send fear through me. Redirecting my mind to the current, increasingly pressing situation, I try to think of ways out.

Direct attacks aren’t working, neither attacks on the cage itself nor on the roots actively aiming for us. Digging our way out might be an option if the cage wasn’t closing in ever tighter; climbing could potentially work if we didn’t have the spear attacks to deal with. However, with the situation as it is, neither of those will be possible. With escape not an option, we’re going to have to find some way of attacking.

Trees fear the axe, the Ents taught me that. But they also fear...fire. It feels like a lightbulb moment, like a ray of sunlight has suddenly shone down on me. Even if green wood doesn’t burn very well, hopefully it will have some effect. But how to do this…?

“Bastet, keep the roots off me,” I tell her, sending a picture of her leaping at the roots to redirect them away from me. I hope that my observation earlier about the roots only shooting forwards and not being otherwise manipulable is correct as otherwise this is going to be even harder than it already is.

A wave of steely assent washing over me from her side of the Bond, I crouch down to the ground. Pulling out a torch and my fire-starter kit from my Inventory, I tuck Trouble’s head back into the sling – the curious cub had poked his nose out to work out what’s going on. I’d rather he doesn’t get singed, though, so firmly tell him to stay put as I start using the flint and steel on the torch.

At first, nothing seems to change. The roots shoot at me, probably detecting easy pickings, but Bastet succeeds in knocking them off target. She doesn’t try to bite them this time, just using her weight to redirect them. Fortunately, it seems like my supposition was right – once redirected, the roots just bury themselves in the loam before they’re retracted. The cage continues to tighten inch by inch.

Then I manage to get a spark and the atmosphere suddenly changes. I look up, alarmed, at the palpable shift in the air. From a patient watchfulness, the feeling of the area has suddenly taken on the heaviness of anger, and I don’t think I’m imagining the sense of fear as well. Not things I would have ever noticed before, but I guess that’s what a Wisdom score of twelve gets you.

And I reckon I’m not imagining it because the roots suddenly start shooting at us with renewed vigor and the cage starts reducing in size with increased speed. Where before it seemed like the tree was willing to take its time, believing in its inexorable triumph, now it appears to be hurried in catching its prey.

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Heartened by the indication that perhaps my plan has a chance of succeeding, I apply myself to my task. Easier said than done as the increased speed of the spearing roots means that Bastet doesn’t manage to divert all the roots. One hits me in the shoulder, sending me sprawling backwards. Fortunately, since it hits my chitin breastplate, it doesn’t go through my shoulder. However, it’s had another effect; one far more negative.

With horror, I watch my steel fly towards the edge of the cage, launched out of my hand as I lost my balance. Without thinking, I throw myself towards it, only barely remembering not to land on my chest and squish the cubs. Instead, landing heavily on my side, I reach out to grab the piece of metal before it is pierced by the root aiming to restrict our space just that little bit more.

I hiss as the root digs a groove in the back of my hand as I’m just not quite fast enough to clear the space in time. But I have my steel. Grimly pushing myself to my knees, I shift back to where I was trying to light the torch. Our cage has become a third of its original size, and the speed of it shrinking seems to have increased even more. Possibly it’s because the reduced space means that the tree has to use fewer roots in each layer, enabling it to move faster. Either way, it’s bad news for us, especially since the restricted space is making Bastet’s diverting task even more difficult.

I need to work faster. I’m lucky that I was able to retrieve my steel. If I’d lost it, I could have used my knife, probably, but this steel is the right shape to create a shower of sparks. The problem is that the pitch doesn’t want to light for some reason. It’s not helping that my fingers are shaking as panic claws at me, meaning that few of the sparks land on the pitch itself. I dart a look at the cage around and feel more fear curdle in my belly – we’ve got barely two metres of space in any direction now.

I stop, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. Giving into the gibbering hindbrain isn’t going to help. I need to light this torch. There’s no other option. Maybe I should use some firestarter as well. I hadn’t because the other torches had lit well enough without it, but this one is being stubborn at the worst of times. If the firestarter works, then great. If it lights without the firestarter, even better. Either way, the only way we lose is if I don’t get this bloody thing lit before we have no space left to move.

Pulling out some dried moss-like plant, I pile a bit on top of the pitch part of the torch. The breathing and pep talk have reduced my trembling a bit, and I refuse to look at the progress of the cage. Trying to calm myself, I strike my steel against the flint, trying to pretend that I’m in my cave. Yeah, no rush here, just in my cave, going to make dinner. Nothing to it, I tell myself.

Finally, I see the lick of flame from where one of the sparks landed in the moss. Refusing to let anything distract me and trusting Bastet to do her best to keep the roots off me without me needing to look, I blow gently on the flame. It grows and I feel a similar flame of triumph light within my belly. That’s when I get hit by two roots one after another.

The first knocks me onto my back, the second hits me straight in the thigh. This time, it manages to avoid the armour and goes a couple of inches into my leg. My mouth opens in a shout, pain radiating from the wound like a starburst. It hurts even more as I have to avoid the strike of the next root, the one embedded in my flesh a pivot I have to shift around. Then it retracts, the rough wood dragging at my wound and forcing a hiss of agony out of my mouth.

Even once it’s out, I immediately have to roll to one side to avoid the next strike, using my elbows to create a safe space for the cubs. They probably get a bit squished though; I hope they’re OK. Quickly channelling healing through my leg, the magic closes the bleeding wound. Worse than the injury, the impact knocked me away from the torch at a critical time in fire-lighting. I push myself upwards, my eyes searching out the torch, my heart in my mouth.

When I see the hint of flame, I breathe out in relief. A quick glance at Bastet along with a touch of the Bond reveals that she’s tired and hard-pressed, but not injured past a few scrapes. At the moment, it seems like the roots only have the power to make superficial or relatively small wounds; that makes the prospect of being caught in the cage even more unappealing as it suggests a long, slow, painful death.

But fortunately, my flame is still burning; more, it’s actually caught on the pitch itself. Within a few seconds, the whole pitch end of the torch is burning steadily. Just in time – the cage has reduced to just over a metre of space and Bastet is actually already being confined to the point where she can barely move around anymore.

The next time the root shoots at her, I redirect it with the torch, tongues of flame catching briefly on the roots itself. It catches surprisingly well, the root having to stab itself into the ground to put it out. I’m heartened – clearly this tree is a bit more vulnerable to fire than even normal trees would be. The tree doesn’t seem to share my happy feelings, suddenly freezing mid-motion.

“Yeah, how do you like that, you poor excuse for a fern,” I tell it savagely. “This is fire. And you’d best let us out or I’m going to burn you down.”

The area is suffused with fear and a sense of hesitancy. I take full advantage, moving to hold the torch against a part of the cage wall. For a moment nothing happens, and then the bark starts to blacken and char. The leaves high above our heads rustle restlessly and the whole tree shivers. Then, as the wood on the roots seems about to catch light, the tree shivers more violently and slowly, almost reluctantly, lifts the roots on that side of the cage. A space just about big enough for Bastet and me to squeeze out is revealed, almost like the tree is unwilling to lose its prey. But surely that’s ascribing far too much human emotion to an unfeeling creature? Though since when could trees trap and kill humans? Perhaps this tree can also feel regret.

Either way, I’m not sticking around here for longer than absolutely necessary. Eyeing the rest of the trees around me which look all too similar to the one that almost got us, I wave my torch threateningly.

“If any of you are also thinking about making a quick meal out of us, I’m quite happy to turn you into a blazing bonfire, understand me?” Unsurprisingly, there’s no response except for the sound of the wind in the tree tops, but I get the sense of brooding dissatisfaction in the air around me.

Bastet and I share a look, both of us feeling wariness at continuing through this forest, but the only way is forward. One thing’s for sure, though: I’m not letting this torch go out for a moment.