Elsewhere…
Malkar was smiling. As signs went, this wasn’t a good one. The supply caravan leader seemed to be under the mistaken impression that he was in charge of something. Malkar was going to enjoy disabusing him of this notion.
“So you’ll deploy your Hand according to...-glurk-.” Nulla as always, had perfect timing, and a deft hand with a strangler’s cord.
Malkar’s smile got wider. “If you don’t stop struggling, you’ll run out of air before I give you your orders. Be a good little boy, and listen up.”
The caravan leader should have listened. He didn’t. He woke up some time later, naked and staked out in the sun. Malkar’s Hand was nothing if not efficient.
Malkar stood over the gagged and bound caravan leader. He smiled, and then spoke.
“Look, you stupid shit. I’m a Hand Leader. I clawed my way out of the pits by killing and eating one of the other prisoners. Do not fuck with me. You answer to me, you obey me. You’re bait, you understand? You have three purposes in life. Deliver supplies to the Master. Draw out the fools who stole from the Master…” Malkar paused, and stepped on the man’s testicles. “and obey me in all things.”
“Do this, and you might live. Understand me?”
The caravan leader screamed. Malkar took his foot off the man’s testicles. “Do I make myself clear?”
Malkar’s victim nodded weakly.
“I’m glad we had this conversation. It’s been a pleasure defining our working relationship.”He then turned to his Hand. "Get him up and dressed, we leave in an hour."
Back at the Tree…
Max joined Shyia in picking through the pile of gear. The mules had been heavily loaded, sorting the mess took a fair amount of time, and much of it needed to be sorted in the daylight, where they could get a good look at it. It was mostly foodstuffs, wine, clothing, and basic sundries.
“So, this was some kind of resupply caravan?”
Shyia nodded. “Yes. They were bringing supplies to the Master’s dimense. His servants, still mortal, need to eat and drink.”
Max scratched his chin, thinking that maybe someone needed a visit. “Any idea where this “Master” is holed up?”
“No, and nobody knows where. The cultists acted, and talked like ‘The Tree’ was the end of the journey for them, but there’s no camp here. And the camp they started from is about a day’s walk from here.”
“Clever girl.” He smiled. “So we can expect more fairly soon, because they’re close by, and this supply train’s loss will be noticed fairly quickly?”
“Yes, that seems very likely.”
“So they’ll send a second supply caravan, more heavily equipped, with more fighters.”
“I would think so, yes.”
“Ok, so we’ll need to deal with these people, and then get clear of here. I need to find Morgan.”
“Who’s Morgan?”
“My daughter. She came through here first, I followed her. She’s in trouble, I have to find her.”
“I did not see another Worldwalker at the main camp, but they kept us in seperate cells. She could be there.”
“What can you tell me about this camp?” Max sat down, pulling out a knife, slowly sawing the makeshift cast off his leg as he questioned Shyia.
“I know that they bring Lifewood and Life Fruit from the Tree, and trade it with the Nagai in return for supplies and sacrifices. They don’t tell the sacrifices that they’re sacrifices though. I found out because this bunch talked too much.”
“How many in that camp?”
“I don’t know, but there’s a large number there. More than fifty, I think.”
“Man, I hope there’s not more than 50, I’m really short on ammo.”
“I don’t understand, you cannot make new fetishes?”
“New what?”
“The little metal jars that hold your spell that allows you to kill from a distance.”
“They’re not…” Max bit back what he was saying. Shyia’s intuition was good enough for this place, and didn’t some writer named Clark say something about tech being hard to tell from magic?
“That’s pretty much the core of my problem, Shyia, I can’t make more fetishes here. I lack the tools. And I’m a bit old in the tooth for learning how to swing a sword, I think.”
Shyia looked at Max the way women have looked at men since time began. “You’re not that old, Max.” She grinned.
Max flushed.
“With the sale of the Lifewood and the fruit, you’ll have a fortune to find your daughter with, if we can make it to one of the cities without getting robbed. This is a lot of Lifewood, enough to set someone up for life.”
“Just so long as I find her.”
“I’ve got better chances if I force them to come to -me-, than trying to hunt them on their own turf.”
Max had chosen to stay near the Tree, and set up his base camp here, because he knew that no matter what else happened, the targets were coming here. He was hoping to get a couple of prisoners this time, before he went after their base. He needed information before he made any attempt to take on a hostile base. And the best way to get that information right now, was to take a patrol… or in this case, a supply convoy. He smiled. This was going to be fun.
He stopped and swore, scratching his ass furiously. Whatever had bitten his left ass cheek was clearly spreading, and it itched like hell. “Maybe it’s not a bite, maybe it’s like poison ivy or something.” Max willed himself not to scratch.
“What was that?” Shyia looked up from the small cookfire she had made. She was putting the stolen supplies to good use, making lunch.
“My ass itches. A lot. Feels like someone rubbed poison ivy all over my back.”
“What is ‘Poison Ivy’?”
“It’s a plant that causes intense itching, which is what I’m feeling right now. Started with my ass, now it’s all down my right leg, and spreading across my lower back.” Max began to sweat as he realized just how much effort he was putting in to avoid scratching.
“Perhaps I could take a look?” Shyia offered with a smile.
“That would be helpful, yes.” Max started shucking his gear, until he was stripped to the waist. He turned around so Shyia could get a good look at his back, and held still.
Shyia bent close to examine Max’s back. At first she saw nothing out of the ordinary. Perfectly healthy flesh, no signs of any irritation, infection or damage. She started to turn away, then stopped. She looked up his back to his neck.His shoulders sported salt and pepper back hair, as well as a sprinkling of scars. As her eyes trailed down his back again, she gasped, realizing what she was seeing. All of the hairs on Max’s lower back were a glossy black, and she could see where a scar ended abruptly, as if the other end had simply been erased. As Shyia watched, Max’s body simply -absorbed- the rest of the scar.
“Shit, what is it?” He did -not need- any sort of debilitating infection or injury, he had cultists to kill.
“I.. I’m not sure what I’m looking at, Max.” Shyia poked at Max’s flesh cautiously. “It looks like you’re...getting younger?
“You’re telling me that the reason my ass itches is that it’s getting younger?” Max asked, the disbelief heavy in his voice.
“Suit yourself.” Shyia snipped, annoyed that she was not believed.
“Hold on Shyia. I’m not being a dick, it’s...Ok, maybe I am being a dick, but being told that my ass is getting younger is a lot to accept from someone who grew up where magic...wasn’t. I mean, seriously, there isn’t any magic where I come from, and while I don’t know shit about magic, I’m pretty sure this is weird, even for magic.”
“You’re… not wrong, Max. This is something I’ve never seen, or read about before.”
“So… You don’t know what’s wrong either. That’s alarming.”
“I am sorry, Max. I wish I could be more help, but I just don’t know. It does seem to be helping you, though. Surely that’s a good thing, yes?”
Max resisted the urge to scratch, and scowled at the universe. “Where I’m from, there’s a saying. There is no such thing as a free lunch.”
“I think I understand. Here, the saying is ‘There is nothing without price.’”
“I just hope I haven’t written a check I can’t cash.”
“What is a ‘check’?”
“God dammit.”
The Tree was pleased. The animals were clearly nesting. They had gathered the food and nesting materials that the tree had provided, and were doing all sorts of interesting animal things. These were much more well behaved animals than the other animals, that were so hard to perceive. The Tree silently raged at the memory of those others, the many encounters with their sharp teeth as well as the pain when they brazenly hacked off parts of itself. It calmed itself with the pleasant thought that the symbiote was taking hold nicely. Apparently this animal was an older specimen, with a lifetime’s worth of small injuries accumulated in the wild. He’d be so much happier, now that the Tree was taking good care of him. It couldn’t wait to see what the babies looked like.
Outside of training ops, this was the longest Max had ever had to prepare a hide. He was pretty happy with what he had accomplished. While his transformation was weighing heavy on his mind, the immediate pressure of ‘kill the cultists before they manage to kill you first’ was taking most of his attention. He could worry about turning into a baby, or whatever was happening to him when and if he survived what the cultists had to offer.
As the last rays of the sun fled, Max looked over his work. He was as ready as he thought he could be.“So they usually arrive at night?”
“I’ve only made the one trip, and they seemed to think it was important to ‘be at the Gate before midnight,’ so...I guess so? I’m not really sure.” Shyia frowned, unhappy that she wasn’t able to give Max more detailed information.
“Nothing like a good night fight.”
“If you say so, Max.”
Malkar’s Hand was moving ahead of the caravan, spread out in a fan ahead of the supply group, none of them using the path. Malkar was proud of his Hand, he’d trained them with the absolute ruthlessness that helped him climb the ranks. They left almost no trace of their passing. Whoever had fucked with the Great One’s convoy was about to have a briefly unpleasant day…
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About 2 hours march to the Tree, Malkar called a halt. The caravan leader nervously approached him
“Hand Leader, is there something you need?” The caravan leader was deferential now, almost submissive. Malkar was pleased, the idiot could learn after all.
“Yes, we’re going to call a halt here, and rest. We’ll pick up the march when the moons are right, and arrive just before dawn.”
“Might one be permitted to ask why?”
Malkar smiled, showing his teeth. “One of three things has happened. First, the supply convoy arrived without incident, and there’s no need to hurry. Second, whoever attacked the convoy has already fled the area, and there’s no need to hurry, because we’re not going to catch them. Third, they’re camped out on or near the Gate, waiting for the next convoy, and the best time to hit them is just before dawn.”
The caravan leader bobbed his head nervously, trying to give the impression that he completely understood Malkar, and was in awe of his wisdom. Mostly, his balls still hurt, and he didn’t want another kicking. So some ass-kissing was a preventative measure.
“Now, show me again how these medallions work, I don’t want a tree root up my ass.”
“They’re made of Life Wood, and enchanted. So long as you wear it, the Tree cannot sense you. If you take it off, or lose it, the Tree will be able to sense you, and if possible, it will immediately attack you. This is how we normally harvest the Tree. However, they have a lifespan. The darker the medallion, the closer it is to failing; if it turns black, start running. If it crumbles, it’s completely done. Don’t be near the tree when it crumbles. They’re normally good for a couple of days.” The caravan leader talked with the confidence of someone who was on a subject they had long experience with.
“So wait until the last minute to put it on? “
“There’s a marker on the trail we use as a safety point.”
“So use our best judgement?”
“I would say if you can see the Tree, you need to be wearing it.”
“Alright, I can work with that. Get some rest, we’re moving out when the moon’s right.”
Meanwhile, at the Tree, Max checked his watch again. He stopped, laughing. “Why am I doing that? I have no idea what time it actually is.”
“What are you talking about, Max?”
Max smiled at Shyia. He found himself doing that a lot. Something about her presence was comfortable, and he wasn’t sure why.
“It’s a tiny machine that keeps track of time.”
“That sounds very valuable.”
“It would be, but I have no idea what the local time is.”
“I could teach you the moons, if you like.”
“That would be good. If you could let me know when midnight is, I could set my watch.”
Time pleasantly slid by as Shyia taught Max first the moons, then how people kept time at night in Anfealt.
Midnight arrived, and after a tense half an hour…
“Looks like they’re not coming tonight. If they’re not coming tonight, then they’re probably going to try to hit just before dawn.” He thought for a moment. “East is that way, right? Where the sun rises?”
“Yes, the sun rises that way. “
“Then they’ll come from that direction, most likely. I need to set up a different hide. Something to the south. Catch them in the flank. You should probably take a mule, and get clear of here. Don’t come back for at least a full day, right?”
Shyia opened her mouth to argue, then shut it. She wasn’t a warrior class, she barely knew which end of the dagger to use. How much use could she really be in a fight? She resented that she was at the mercy of this...situation.
“I will do as you ask, Max. But I want something in return.”
“I’m listening.”
She had his full attention, he was taking her seriously, she could tell. “When this is over, someone teaches me how to fight. I don’t like being unable to defend myself.”
Max grinned. “You have a deal.” He offered his hand, as if to seal the deal.
She could feel that he meant it as she reached out for the handshake. This man was risking his life to kill her enemies, and somehow, this made leaving harder instead of easier. She began packing one of the mules, getting ready to leave. She focused on two things, value and food. She was starting from nothing, and the more loot she had, the more likely she was to live well, no matter how things turned out with Max and the Scarlet Order. Once that was finished, she looked around. It didn’t take nearly as long as she wanted it to.
“I don’t want to go, but I’m going. Two days, no more.”
“Yes. Two days. I’ll be fine. These guys are chumps.”
“Max? Don’t.. Do not … “ Shyia paused, looking for the right words. “Two things. They will use Skills. This lets them do magic things. Second? Do not forget your own skills. Be careful.”
On impulse, Shyia reached up on her tip-toes and kissed Max. “Don’t die on me.”
She turned around quickly and started leading the mules. She wasn’t going to let him see her cry, dammit.
Max stood there, for a long moment, watching Shyia go… Once she passed into the brush, he shook his head. “Focus, old man. It’s time to get ready for company.”
The Tree was concerned. The female was leaving, and the male was showing the signs of stress. The poor thing’s entire body was just boiling with fight hormones. Did the male perhaps sense something? Something the Tree could not? Perhaps it could sense the invisible others, the sharp ones, who cut the Tree so painfully. The animal was settling into a hidden place to wait. Interesting, its new animal was an ambush predator. The Tree waited, and as always, watched...
Five hours later, Max settled into his new hide and got comfortable. He'd slept during the day, so he wasn't too tired, but he'd been expecting a midnight fight. It was going to be a long wait.
Malkar and his team were woken by one of the supply caravan members and, slipping on their medallions, began getting ready.
“You’ll go ahead,” Malkar stated flatly.
“But...” The caravan leader forced himself to shut up. “Yes, Hand Leader.”
“Good boy. Get moving.”
Max heard them before he could see them. That many men, untrained in stealth, moving through a forest, made a lot of noise. He waited, wanting to get a better idea of how many of them there really were. He watched as the entire supply convoy entered clearing, milling around. And still, he waited.
Malkar watched from the east, and silently cursed under his breath. Whoever these people were, they were not stupid. They had either fled, or they knew bait when they saw it. What to do? He signalled to the rest of the Hand ‘hold in place’, and waited as well.
Malkar ran out of patience first.
By mid morning the supply caravan and the Hand had searched the area around the Tree with care.
Nulla took a knee, and touched a finger to the remains of the fire. “Quite warm. They were here, and not very long ago. They must have left just before midnight last night.”
Malkar trusted Nulla’s scouting; the strangler excelled at the hunt. “So which way did they go?”
“It looks like they took 3 mules, and went that way, around midnight, I think.”
Max was patiently watching through the little 4x scope on his rifle. He had been watching since there was enough light to do so, and he was pretty sure he had identified the major players. Those five. They were dressed differently, and it was clear that the rest of the group was scared shitless of them. He’d take them first, he thought. He saw the one guy point in the direction that Shyia had gone, and knew the game was up. “Showtime.” He drew down a careful bead on the big one...
“Right, so we’re going to-” Malkar was interrupted by something unexpected. That unexpected something was the side of Strom’s head exploding. At the same time, there came a strange sound, like a large stone falling a long distance on to earth.
“Thud”
Strom dropped without making a sound, pitching forwards on what remained of his face. The rest of the Hand immediately scattered, using their [Skills]. Nulla, Wilf, and Juf used [Blur Presence] immediately, spreading out, searching for the source of whatever it was that had felled Strom. Malkar, being of a much higher level, used [Fade] and began to stalk whoever had taken out his subordinate.
The supply convoy ran around like headless chickens in their terror, confusing the issue.
Max swore, blinking furiously. He couldn’t get those bastards to come into focus. “fuck it.” He snarled, resigning himself to spending his rounds generously. Looks like he’d be learning how to swing a sword sooner than he thought.
There! He could see the tip of a sword. That would mean the rest of the target was right about… Max sent 3 rounds downrange, hoping for a solid hit.
Juf let out a strangled grunt, and hit the ground. His knee was a bleeding ruin, he had no idea how it was done. But he wasn’t walking till he got some healing. He scrambled for a cord to stem the bleeding…
The Tree was confused. Suddenly, it could sense one of the Prisoner’s minions. It was freshly dead, its heart had not even stopped beating completely, yet here it was. And it was clearly the doing of the Tree’s new pet. Apparently the animal could somehow detect the Prisoner’s minions, and attacked them on sight. The Tree was delighted, this was wonderful. It sent roots to devour this fresh bounty, and struggled to find the other minions that had to be around, somewhere. They always travelled in packs… But there was so much movement, so much vibration, the tree just couldn’t tell. It started sending exploratory roots, feeling for something it couldn’t see. Blood! It could taste blood, right over there….
The ground around Juf burst as a swarm of angry roots erupted from the ground seeking the source of the fresh blood. Juf managed a hearty scream before several roots impaled his chest cavity, destroying his lungs, as well as his ability to scream. The roots laced through his body, threading through his still twitching body,abruptly tearing him apart. Screaming in terror, the supply caravan’s morale shattered completely, they fled in random directions, unthinking. The roots tracked the vibration of their running with predictable results. A few managed to escape the Tree’s reach, and kept running...
Malkar had a rough idea where the bastard killing his men was hiding. He just needed to follow the noise. 4 of those loud noises were enough to give him a rough idea of where to look, he stalked closer, moving carefully, listening.
Max was struggling to find the other ones. There should be three more, but he couldn’t see them. He cursed in frustration. “I’m an idiot.” Max fumbled for a moment, and then managed to activate [Sight].
There. That blur right there, that was closing with him on his left. Max rolled over on his side abruptly to bring his rifle to bear, and fired.
Thud-thud-thud.
Two out of three rounds struck home on Nulla. The first struck him in the shoulder, the second took him directly in the center of his head, purely by luck.
Malkar could see him now. He’d moved abruptly to aim some kind of crossbow at Nulla, and killed poor Nulla outright. Malkar made a note that the weapon was capable of throwing multiple bolts without needing attention, and probably had more bolts ready for him, if he was detected. Malkar swung wide, away from the battle, and eased up behind the strange archer. At the last second, the archer raised his head as if aware of Malkar, but it was far too late. The first knife went to the hilt in the archer’s right kidney, and the next one went right through the 4th and 5th left ribs, neatly punching a hole in the archer’s heart. The archer spasmed and drummed, and went limp.
“Like sweets from an infant.”
Max had thought that things had finally turned in his favor after becoming able to finally see the fuckers he was trying to kill. A sudden, paralyzing pain in his back became the first hint that he had, in fact, fucked up. The next instance of pain – another knife, he noted distantly, and in his heart – wasn't even quite pain, but... cold. Unforgiving. Max thrashed in the dirt, desperate to get up, to get away so that he could stand and fight. This couldn’t be how things ended. He had to… Morgan, he had to find Morgan. He couldn’t die like this, shanked like a punk. He heard the contempt in the other man’s voice, like he was under water. Things blurred, faded. Morgan...
[Would you like to use [Rage], Y/N?]
Max clawed at ‘Yes’, ignoring a number of blurry text boxes.If [Rage] was going to let him get up and kill this motherfucker, he was fine with that. The rest wasn't important right now and he'd sort out the costs later. Right now, the knife in his ribs -itched-. He reached for it, slowly pulled it out, then removed the one in his back. He lifted his head, and got to one knee. He could see the motherfucker who stabbed him examining Max’s rifle, not paying attention to Max.
Malkar was looking over the curious crossbow that the archer had used. He had never seen anything like it, but he looked forward to mastering it. Right now, he needed to get clear of the Tree, as it was clearly on the rampage, roots everywhere, seeking flesh. Not even the medallion could keep him hidden in these circumstances.
The wet, bubbling growl from the direction of the archer’s corpse took him by surprise. He turned quickly, just in time to catch the archer’s leap. The force behind the archer’s lunge took them both to the ground. Malkar was confused. The archer was dead. He had seen him breathe his last. But the dead man was up, and trying to kill him. Malkar didn’t waste any time being philosophical about this, immediately drawing two more knives, and attempting to finish killing the archer, or re-killing him. Whatever it took, Malkar wasn’t picky. The dead man snarled and grabbed his wrists with startling speed. Malkar didn’t recognize the fighting style. Nobody fought like this. And Gods the dead man was strong. He'd managed to grab both of Malkar's wrists, tightly enough that he could feel the bones grinding against each other, utterly preventing him from stabbing the archer again. Malkar screamed in pain, and kneed Max in the groin repeatedly, trying to shake him off.
The Tree was concerned. Its pet was badly hurt, and using magic to stay alive. It was clearly in the middle of a fight with another animal that the Tree couldn’t sense. Even worse, its pet was _dying_. This was unacceptable. The Tree used the freshly planted symbiote as a conduit, and began to gently push mana into its pet. The little animal had done the Tree a service, and could detect the hidden ones. The Tree was not going to let it die, it was a valuable and loyal pet.
Max had honestly believed he knew the full depths of his own rage, what he was capable of. Until this moment he had no idea how wrong he really was. Everything was pink. He couldn’t feel anything. The guy he was rolling around in the dirt with didn’t seem to weigh anything at all. Max gripped Malkar’s wrists tighter, seeking sensation. Everything felt like it was wrapped in cotton. He snarled in frustration. It was hard to breathe, he kept coughing up something wet, but all that fell away under the sheer importance that was killing.
He couldn't hit his prey with his hands because they were full. If he let go he'd get stabbed. He was, at least, coherent enough to know he didn't want to get stabbed again. Max roiled in frustration. Killing. How was he going to...
Then, Max let out a wet, gurgling laugh, and struck.
Malkar's situation was pretty desperate. The dead man was almost breaking the bones in his wrists through the sheer force of his grip. Kicking him in the manhood had no effect at all. The dead man's face, mere inches from his, snapped and snarled like some kind of demon or wild animal.
Suddenly, the dead man smiled, and Malkar could taste fear.
The smiling face of the living cadaver slammed into Malkar's face hard enough to break his nose. The leader of the Hand's eyes watered as the dead man laughed, even as he coughed blood into Malkar's face. Then he hit Malkar again. And again. And again, laughing the whole time. The last thing Malkar heard was the chilling laughter of a corpse.
Max realized that he did have a weapon to hit his prey with. His head. Max grinned, and head-butted his prey in the face as hard as he could. The crunch of his prey’s nose breaking was very satisfying. He kept doing it. It was fun. Then the prey stopped struggling. Now it was just meat. Max was angry, because he wanted to hurt his prey more. He dropped the dead body, the entire front of Malkar’s face was unrecognizable…
He could smell more prey…
Wilf was not a fool. Things had gone to hell, and he was getting the fuck out of here before the goddamn Tree roots got to him too. He turned to run, and then he saw it. It was an older man, and the only discernible features on his face were his eyes, disconcertingly wide and alert. The rest, and in fact his entire front, were caked in blood both old and new. With a cough, another gout of blood spewed out of the man's mouth – likely a fatal injury of some sort – and then he charged at Wilf like he was loaded to the gills on chut[1]. reacted the way he always had: by throwing knives. The blood covered apparition didn’t even try to dodge. Two, then three, then five knifes stuck out of him, all at critical injury points, and it didn't so much as slow him down. Even as Wilf abandoned knife-throwing and threw himself into the act of dodging, the other man picked up a sudden burst of speed and slammed into him. Wide, alert eyes bored into Wilf as the other man began making a wet, gurgling noise. At the last moment, Wilf realized it was laughter
The new prey delighted Max! Knives had been thrown, and that was a whole new kind of fun, as there was nothing to be felt from being stabbed other than a slight pressure. His prey was pinned beneath him, tackled to the ground, and now, now, was his turn to play with the sharp blades.
Max removed one of the knives that stuck out of his body, and rammed it into the prey. The prey screamed, the sound caressing Max's ears in the most pleasing way. Another knife found a new meaty placeholder, which elicited a new scream. Max did it again. And again. The screams grew louder, more desperate, and Max felt both joy and sadness as he grasped hold of the fifth and final knife and slid it easily into his prey. With a twist, and a few lingering screams, the prey finally stopped being prey and was nothing more than meat. Like the last one.
Max looked around for more prey to kill. He could smell flesh, but not prey. He felt tired, suddenly. Maybe he would just… lay down, catch his breath. It was funny, why couldn’t he seem to catch his breath? Maybe a short…
Max lost consciousness.
The Tree was very concerned. Its pet was truly dying.This couldn’t be allowed. It was such a good pet. It cradled the body of it’s dying pet in it’s roots. Perhaps… Perhaps if it acted as a larger symbiote, and helped the pet heal, it could be saved. It brought the pet close, and coaxed part of the symbiote to the surface. It connected a root to the symbiote, floodung the symbiote with nutrients and mana, stimulating growth. Another root slid into the pet's moth to slowly dribble nutrient rich sap, while yet another carefully sourced the pet's dorsal waste vents and connected to them. The pet, it knew, would need both fluids and waste removal in order to survive.. Bark was then grown over the holes in the pet’s flanks, to keep it from bleeding to death.
Within an hour, Max lay at the base of the tree, cocooned in a bizarre, giger-esque shell of vines and bark, with roots inserted into his body in strange places. The vines connected to him pulsed. The Tree completely enclosed him in bark, flooded the chamber with fresh oxygen, and kept it as a slight pressure.
Max dreamed…