Jack had given his friends specific advice on what they should wear to this adventure. Always one to favor his own particular style over comfort, however, Daiki was trudging through the forest in vintage Doc Martens. After all the excitement at the tree, their rush through the forest slowed to a crawl, partly because they were both exhausted. Partly, Jack suspected, because Daiki’s feet were killing him.

He’d spotted the dark red shoes in a thrift store, years ago, while Jack had been browsing for old comics. Daiki had shrugged off the fact that they were a size too small and snatched them up like they were worth a thousand dollars. Jack wondered if his friend regretted the purchase now that he was starting to limp. Daiki was not an athletic person. Well, none of them were really, except Jack with his martial arts and Steve taking a general interest in sport, but Daiki was probably the biggest couch potato. He’d joined Jack and the others occasionally on camping trips, but he always loudly begrudged the time, considering it essentially wasted. Daiki had a vocal preference for obscure concerts or pottering around the darkroom of their high school, over trudging through forests.

Jack was wearing his old, perfectly worn-in hiking boots and they covered the gentle terrain without troubling him, even as they headed into late afternoon. The ground was beginning to slope up very slightly, although the trees clustered even more densely around them. Most of the time Mico was lost in the thick gloom above them. The pale trunks seemed to glimmer in the strange, dark forest light.

The air didn't smell right. Jack noticed it more distinctly after walking through the meadow and climbing into the clear sky. This wilderness had none of the rich, mossy scents he associated with walking through the woods. No smell of flowers, or pine sap, or even of rot and loam.

The air was tinged with something sweet.

He picked up a few needles from the ground and rubbed them between his fingers. They smelled faintly of burnt sugar. He pulled a few strands of grass from the meadow out of his pocket and sniffed at that. It was exactly like ordinary grass, an anomaly that hadn’t occurred to him when he was standing in it. The green stained his fingers. It smelled of home.

So this whole world wasn’t covered with bizarre, fuzzy black and grey trees. There were green things as well.

The grass had only come to his ankles, he remembered and was even shorter in some places. The chunks of furry wood Mico chopped out had been visible in it, not obscured by long blades. Something had been keeping the grass down. Maybe rabbits, or deer? Maybe something else.

So why hadn't they seen any rabbits or birds yet? Or even any insects? The seagulls out by the cliff were the only living things he'd spotted so far, aside from a few flashes of gleaming eyes in the darkness. There was no other sign of life. The woods were ominously quiet. Only the rustle of the strange trees, untouched by any wind, consistently filled his ears.

Studying them, Jack noticed that a few of the trunks here sported bulges near the ground. The pewter fur, so smooth elsewhere, was ruffled over those lumps, some the size of grapefruits, and others more like melons.

He desperately wanted to investigate one of the lumps, but he didn’t think Daiki would wait for him if he stopped, even for a few minutes.

So they trudged on and on, through the growing darkness. Splashes of orange paint were the only bright things in sight. They were accompanied by a near silent Mico and the chuckle of black leaves.

Jack eventually fell into a kind of trance, as he passed the same gray pillars over and over again. He didn't notice when Daiki stopped.

Jack rammed into his friend, sending them both stumbling over the needle-slick ground.

“Watch it, arsehole!” Daiki rubbed the elbow he had jarred against a tree and Jack flexed his twisted ankle.

“Why'd you stop like that?”

“I heard something.”

They both stood and listened.

“The trees are quiet,” Jack observed in a whisper.

“Yeah, the wind must have died down.”

Jack kept his suspicions to himself. There hadn’t been a breath of wind through those trees all day.

They both held their breath, trying to hear something. Anything. Daiki spun in a slow circle.

“Shit. I can't see my marks...”

Jack peered through the gloomy undergrowth, searching for the orange spots.

“There!” Daiki pointed at a small orange smudge in the distance. “I must have... we must have got turned around.” He took another long look at the trees surrounding them, which were the same as all the other trees they'd been passing for hours and hours.

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Finally, Daiki shrugged and started walking to the right, trying to correct their orientation. “I guess it was nothing...”

A hissing bolt of golden fur streaked past Daiki's face. The two friends both jerked back instinctively as the animal lunged from the branches above them. It hit the ground a few feet in front of Daiki.

Without pausing it spun and cleared his shoulder in a single bound. The momentum of the leap brought it close to crashing into Jack, but it skidded to a stop with startling grace. A long-bodied, muscular cat, it was about the size of a Labrador, with slender, high tipped ears like outstretched wings and black rimmed, grey eyes. A kitten dangled from its jaws.

“Gah!” Daiki staggered back, clutching his face. “What the fuck is wrong with this place?”

“So beautiful,” Jack breathed, in the instant before the cat vanished into the forest. For a moment, he stared after it, trying to see it for as long as possible. But the slim golden shape disappeared almost instantly. He brought his attention back to Daiki.

“Oh shit.” Jack unslung his pack in a hurry. Blood was streaming between Daiki's fingers. His big, fancy camera was covered in it. Another one bites the dust, Jack thought but knew better than to say it aloud.

He found the first aid kit, a bright red and white case stuffed with bandages and pills. It took a moment to coax Daiki's fingers away from his face, but once he did, Jack relaxed.

It was bloody, but otherwise not nearly as bad as he feared. Three shallow cuts on the cheek, just under Daiki's left eye, one of them extending almost to his ear. They were bleeding freely, but cleanly. The cat had been warning them off, taking a quick swipe on its way to freedom.

Lucky it hadn't swiped any higher.

Jack carefully cleaned out the cuts, explaining what he was doing out loud to Daiki, trying to remember the first aid course he had completed last year. Clean the wound, then apply antibacterial ointment, then bandage.

Daiki didn’t make it any easier by pulling his cigarettes and lighter from his pocket. He stuffed the paint spray into the side pocket of his suitcase and lit up, then puffed away impatiently as Jack fiddled with the gauze and tape.

Jack didn't think the shallow wounds needed stitches and, more importantly, he didn't think Daiki would stand still if he whipped out a needle. So, he did the best he could. The bandages grew one small dot of blood, but that was all. The bleeding stopped almost immediately.

Daiki remained rigid, swearing under his breath with his eyes closed at the worst bits. Jack noticed bite marks on his friend’s lip after he was done, but at least everything was OK. They were going to be OK. Jack repeated it to himself as a mantra.

It even lifted his spirits a little, until Daiki opened his eyes and gazed down. Jack half expected the bandages to fly off as Daiki took a rib-cracking breath at the sight of his camera.

It was covered in blood, now caking as it dried, although the purple jersey underneath had escaped with only a few stains.

With wide bloody streaks still on his face and down his neck, Daiki looked as though he had survived a battle. Unfortunately, it didn't seem like his camera was going to make it.

Jack held himself tense, braced for the loud accusations and nasty words. Daiki opened his mouth- and the silence was broken by a faint chirrup.

Daiki's eyes flashed, his face pale above the blood, then he whirled and charged off in the direction of the noise, his suitcase twisting his arm around as it bumped after him.

“You fucker, that camera was mother-fucking expensive!”

“Crap…” Jack snatched up first aid supplies and shoved them back into his bag, zipping it up on the go as he ran after his friend. “Daiki, don't be an idiot! That cat was dangerous. It’ll kick your arse.”

As he ran, Jack frantically cast his gaze around for Mico, hoping the little pterosaur would back him up (not that Daiki was likely to listen). There was no swish in the trees or melodic whistle of the voice-flute.

No Mico at all.

It hit Jack for the first time that they were alone. Mico was nowhere to be seen and Jack had no idea when he had last seen the pterosaur. A bolt of fear crashed into him.

“Daiki… I mean it… man… come on… we'll get lost! This isn't… even… the right… direction.”

Jack slammed into his friend - again - as Daiki stopped running without warning. This time Jack barely moved the taller boy, who had planted himself firmly on the forest floor.

“Did you hear that?” Daiki was looking carefully around. He was breathing hard, but obviously trying to control it.

“Are you fucking… kidding me?” Jack couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his own heartbeat.

“Seriously, I heard something moving.” Daiki’s eyes were brighter than they had been in hours. Unfortunately it was with the light of vengeance. “Something small. Shut up for a minute.”

Jack tried to keep quiet, although he was pulling in huge gulps of air, trying to recover from the sprint, and the fear.

He thought wistfully of his bedroom at home. A few months ago, he would have been home from school by now, with his homework done if he’d bothered with it. He could be watching scientists solve crimes on TV, or sticking digital swords through digital dragons on his PC, or heading downstairs to eat lamb chops and apple crumble with his mother.

But no. He just had to go on a big adventure.

“There, hear it?” Daiki stubbed out the cigarette he had somehow kept on his mad dash, and moved a few steps away to kneel beneath a tree. He was peering into what appeared to be a hole in the ground but, Jack realized on closer inspection, was actually a hollow in the base of the tree. It was lined with a thicker than usual layer of wisken.

Jack pulled out his flashlight, shining it into the dark space.

A pair of eyes flashed back.