The first hints of dawn filtered softly through the thick canopy, brushing gently against my eyelids. But I didn't immediately open my eyes as I just relished in the soft morning breeze. It had this almost soothing dampness that felt heavenly on my scorched skin, though I couldn't say the same for my muscles. They were aching and sore from the night spent perched among the branches. Pushing myself up, I slowly opened my eyes, blinking away the lingering fatigue as I scanned our surroundings. Nearby, Amelia was already awake, leaning against a makeshift spear, eyes narrowed in careful observation of the dense forest below.
Quietly, I shifted into a sitting position, stifling a groan as I stretched my stiff back. "Are you the last watch?" I asked softly, my voice still rough from sleep.
Amelia started slightly at the sound of my voice, her shoulders tensing briefly before she relaxed with a soft exhale. "Yeah," she murmured, though her eyes remained fixed on the shifting shadows beneath us.
Following her gaze, I nodded slowly, memories of the previous night surfacing vividly. "Did you see those Creatures?"
She hesitated briefly before nodding, her grip tightening on a makeshift spear. "They were circling the base of the tree, sniffing around. Though I'm not sure what they were exactly, it was too dark."
I shivered involuntarily, recalling the event. "Yeah, I noticed them during my watch, too."
One by one, the others began to stir, roused by the quiet murmur of conversation. Ella let out a long, theatrical yawn as she stretched, then immediately reached for her journal without missing a beat.
Henry was the last to sit up, groaning as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
"So," Ella said with mock enthusiasm as she dug through our rations, "who's ready for another exciting day in paradise?" She held up a strip of dried bug meat with a grin. "Breakfast is served."
Henry groaned louder, slumping forward. "Bug meat again? You've got to be kidding me."
Owen shrugged and grabbed his portion without complaint.
Benjamin settled beside Amelia, his expression tight with unease. He glanced around the group before asking quietly, "You both saw them clearly? How close did they get?"
"Close enough," I replied grimly, taking my share of the dried meat. "If they've picked up our scent, we're already on borrowed time. We should put as much distance between us and this place as possible."
Ella and Henry exchanged puzzled glances, the shift in tone not lost on them.
"Wait…what creatures?" Ella asked, a bit curious as she scanned the trees around us.
"I'm not sure," I said, keeping my voice low. " But they kinda respempled raptors. But I couldn't see much in the dark, besides the fact that they were lurking around the tree."
Ella's eyes widened slightly as she tightened the straps on her pack. "Why didn't you wake us?"
"They didn't stay long," I said. "It didn't feel like an immediate threat. But we'd be stupid to assume they won't be back."
Emily, who had been quiet until now, looked up toward the canopy, her expression strained. "Do you think they can climb?" she whispered.
Benjamin hesitated, then shook his head slowly. "I don't think so. Their body structure looked built for speed, not climbing. But…" His eyes swept the trees around us, clearly less certain than he let on.
"Doesn't matter," Amelia cut in. "If they're tracking us, we need to keep moving."
Henry nodded. "Yeah, let's not wait around to find out Benjamin was wrong."
Soon after, we packed up with Amelia taking point, her handgun drawn and steady in her grip, scanning the path ahead with unwavering attention.
But as the hours passed, with there being no sign of them. The tightness in our chests began to ebb, replaced by a kind of wary fatigue..
"Okay," Henry muttered, brushing a vine off his shoulder, "I know we've been through hell, but… is it just me, or does this place actually look kind of nice when it's not trying to kill us?"
Owen crouched beside a moss-covered root, running a hand over its surface before straightening again. "Still is," he said quietly, his gaze sweeping the treeline.
Ella gave a faint laugh, her voice soft and thoughtful. "It's incredible, really. The whole ecosystem feels… connected. Like it's aware of us."
Henry snorted under his breath, the brief wonder fading from his face. "Yeah, well, I'll start being impressed once breakfast stops staring back at me." He nodded toward a fat beetle inching across a leaf, giving it a look somewhere between disgust and suspicion.
As our pace slowed, Benjamin lifted a hand for us to halt. "We'll need to refill water soon," he said, nodding toward a thin veil of mist curling from behind a cluster of ferns. "That steam vent up ahead might be our best chance."
We followed him carefully through the undergrowth, the air growing warmer with each step.
"Easy," Benjamin warned, crouching beside the vent. "Some of these pools can be boiling. Use a cloth to test it first."
We knelt one after another, doing as he said. I dipped a rag into a shallow pool and let it soak. The water was warm, but not scalding. As I filled my container, something flickered at the edge of my vision — just a brief shift in the leaves.
My hand moved to my knife, fingers tightening around the grip. When I turned, there was nothing. Only the hiss of steam and the hum of unseen insects.
Amelia's voice came low beside me. "Still feel like we're being watched?"
"Always," I muttered, keeping my eyes on the trees.
We moved on in silence. The jungle seemed to change with every step — fungi pulsing faintly along the trunks in muted greens and browns, vines hanging like curtains that twitched if brushed, leaves that curled and opened without a single breath of wind.
Branches brushed our arms like searching fingers, leaves whispering against our clothing. Overhead, strange birds let out low, guttural calls that echoed unnervingly through the trees, too loud for their size, and disturbingly human in pitch and cadence.
We traveled deeper, the world shifting around us with every step. Unsettling hints of life and death lurked just beneath the surface. Half-hidden among roots and mossy hollows were scattered remains. Some were old, picked clean by time and scavengers. Others… weren't. Bones jutted from decomposing flesh, and more than a few were disturbingly fresh, their decay strangely arrested in the damp air. The smell of rot lingered, faint but persistent, clinging to the back of my throat.
In the distance, a new sound rose, sharp hoots and rapid, chittering shrieks. They came in bursts, echoing from tree to tree.
"Sounds like they're talking to each other," Benjamin muttered, scanning the dense canopy.
Ella clutched her journal tighter to her chest, her eyes darting nervously through the treetops. "Do you think they've seen us?"
Amelia didn't break her stride. "Let's just assume everything in this forest knows we're here."
The silence that followed was tense, but soon enough, Hunger crept in as the hours dragged on. The bug meat from earlier was a fading memory, and every colorful fruit we passed was a cruel tease as no one wanted to risk eating something toxic.
Our pace slowed as exhaustion settled into our bones, the jungle's humidity making every step feel heavier. Finally, when the suns began to settle, we found a sloped patch of ground nestled between two thick roots. It was shaded and somewhat concealed. But better than anything we'd found up until now.
We dropped our packs and crouched into the shelter, flasks in hand, grateful for even a moment's rest. I had just closed my eyes when a rustle sounded from somewhere to my right.
I was on my feet in a flash, hand gripping the hilt of my knife. Around me, the others stiffened, eyes wide and searching the brush.
From the undergrowth emerged a massive snail-like creature. Its body rippled as it slid forward on thick, muscular folds of flesh. Its shell gleamed faintly in the filtered light, segmented and ridged, with sharp points protruding from each segment, like natural armor.
The thing was massive, nearly the size of a tire, but luckily, it didn't seem to care that we were there at all.
"Stay still," Amelia whispered.
Then another one followed.
And another.
Seven in total, each one slowly moving across the ground and utterly oblivious to us as they slimed their way through our camp like we weren't even there.
We didn't breathe.
Not until Benjamin slowly straightened, eyes fixed on one of the creatures.
"If we're going to eat tonight," he murmured, "this is our chance."
Emily grimaced, her voice tight with unease. "Are we seriously thinking about eating that? It's a snail. A giant snail. That just feels... wrong."
Benjamin hesitated, the uncertainty clear in his expression. "I'm not thrilled about it either," he admitted, glancing at the slow-moving creatures. "But unless we want to go hungry, this might be our best shot. If it's edible, that is."
Before Emily could argue further, he cautiously stepped forward. We all watched as he approached one of the massive snails, carefully observing it.
Reaching out, he slowly grasped the edge of the shell.
Then, out of nowhere, the creature reacted. Its soft body recoiled, vanishing into the shell with a sharp snap as the segmented plates slammed shut — nearly catching his fingers in the process.
"Damn," he hissed, jerking his hand back. "Things like a bear trap."
"Well, that's an interesting defense," Henry muttered as he crouched beside it, inspecting the surface. "Looks like a spiky rock once it's sealed."
"No kidding," I said, eyeing the rough plates. "That's going to be a pain to crack open."
"Not necessarily," Amelia cut in. She stepped into the center of the clearing, kicking away bits of debris. "If we cook it in the shell, we won't have to crack it at all. It'll hold the heat and keep everything contained."
I blinked, then nodded. That's… actually a great idea. Surprised, I didn't think of that.
With a plan forming, we got to work. Benjamin and Henry helped lift the massive shell onto a makeshift furnace — a ring of stacked stones we hurriedly assembled.
Even Emily, despite her reluctance, joined in with gathering twigs and dried leaves for kindling. Around us, the other snails slid away into the brush, their slow movements swallowed by the jungle's low murmur.
Minutes later, the fire crackled to life. Warm, orange light flickered over our faces as Benjamin eased the shell into the flames. The heat grew, the plates shifting with faint pops until thin wisps of fragrant steam began to curl into the night air.
Henry leaned forward, sniffing exaggeratedly. "Smells... weird. But kind of good?"
"Almost done," Benjamin said, nudging the edge of the shell with a stick. "It's loosening up."
Ella sat cross-legged near the fire, sketchbook already open in her lap. Her pen scratched softly as she recorded the moment. "It's actually fascinating," she murmured. "The shell locks shut like armor, not even leaving a single gap for an attack."
"Adapted or not," Amelia said with a faint smirk, "it's dinner now."
Off to the side, Emily and Owen sat close together, speaking in hushed tones. Emily glanced toward the fire now and then, her brows furrowed but no longer protesting.
Henry wandered over to the fire, slowly circling the now-cooked snail shells like a predator sizing up prey. "Let's see… too cracked… too small… Ah, you'll do," he muttered, stopping in front of one that had kept most of its shape. Steam still curled lazily off its surface.
He crouched down, cautiously reaching out…then yanked his hand back with a sharp hiss. "Still hot. Great." He blew on his fingers, then grabbed a folded cloth from his bag and wrapped it around his hand for protection.
"Second time's the charm," he muttered, gripping the edge of the shell. He tugged once… nothing. A second time, it shifted, but not enough. "Seriously?" he grumbled, bracing a foot against the edge of a rock and pulling harder.
With a strained grunt and a loud squelching sound, the shell popped free, sending Henry stumbling backward with it in his arms.
"Victory," he breathed dramatically, holding the shell aloft like a war prize.
Straightening, he slung it over his shoulder and turned to the others with a proud grin. "Alright, be honest. How do I look?"
Benjamin looked over from the fire and smirked. "Like a medieval salad bowl."
Henry puffed out his chest, adjusting the shell into a more dramatic pose. "Exactly the look I was going for."
Ella didn't even glance up from her sketchbook as she muttered, "Maybe the wildlife will think you're one of them and leave the rest of us alone."
"Alright," Amelia said, crouching by the fire and examining the steaming shell. "Looks ready. Let's try to get it open without burning ourselves."
Benjamin and I stepped in with care, using long sticks to pry apart the now-loosened segments. A burst of fragrant steam hissed out as the shell cracked open, revealing a glistening white meat inside that was almost translucent in a way.
"Well," I said, blinking in surprise, "that looks a hell of a lot better than I expected."
Benjamin carved into it with ease, separating thick, soft portions and setting them aside. Then, grabbing one of the cleaned shells, he poured in a bit of the filtered water we'd collected earlier and tossed in a handful of foraged greens and fibrous roots.
"There," he said, stirring it all together with a stick. "Not exactly gourmet, but it might actually be decent."
Amelia raised an eyebrow at him, a rare smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I never thought I'd see you cooking alien stew."
Benjamin chuckled. "Honestly? Neither did I. But I guess there's a first time for everything."
I knelt nearby, grabbed another large shell, and placed it firmly on the ground. Cutting into the center of the meat, I tried holding it steady with my fingertips…only to jerk my hand back with a hiss. "Ow! That's hot."
"Careful, Atlas," Ella said without looking up.
"Yeah, thanks," I muttered, shaking out my fingers. I slid the shell under the chunk of meat instead and pressed down, slicing off a thick slab of the white meat. Juices ran down the sides, pooling into the shell's bottom as I began cutting the meat into smaller cubes.
Henry leaned in beside me, sniffing the air dramatically. "Who knew snails could smell like roasted heaven?"
"Not roasted. Boiled with desperation," I said dryly.
"Still smells better than bug jerky," he grinned, clearly unbothered.
By now, the scent had drawn everyone in. Even Emily and Owen, who had kept their distance, drifted closer. Emily knelt near the fire, watching quietly, her eyes following the slow bubbling of the stew in Benjamin's makeshift pan.
"Think it's ready?" Henry asked, practically vibrating with anticipation.
Benjamin nodded and began ladling portions into large leaves, passing them around like makeshift bowls. We all took hesitant bites, prepared for the worst.
And then…relief.
"This is actually really good," Ella murmured, surprised as she took another bite.
"Told you," Henry beamed. "Snail bisque. Five-star cuisine, jungle edition."
Emily took a slow bite, paused, then nodded. "It's... surprisingly edible," she admitted softly.
We ate together in a quiet circle, the fire casting its soft, flickering glow across our tired faces. No one said it aloud, but the silent glances we exchanged said enough—we needed this. Not just the food, but the stillness. The calm. The fragile illusion of normalcy in a world that had given us so little of it.
The sound of chewing, the occasional sip from a flask, and the low hum of the jungle filled the quiet around us. Slowly, the sky deepened to a dusky blue, then to a blanket of deep purple. Shadows stretched longer across the forest floor, swallowing the last slivers of light. The warmth from the fire was a small comfort against the growing chill that crept in with the night.
Emily's gaze lifted toward the trees above us. The branches arched like skeletal fingers against the darkening sky. "Should we start looking for a spot in the trees?"
I followed her line of sight, noting how the trees in this area were far smaller than normal. "Doesn't look like these trees will hold us tonight," I murmured.
Amelia, crouched near the fire, and poked gently at the embers with a stick. The flames flared a little, throwing fresh light on her face. "We'll stay here," she said. "Keep the fire going, and the person on watch keeps the gun close."
We all nodded, quietly resigned. The forest pressed in around us, a living wall of noise and movement. Still, the fire felt like a barrier between us and the dark.
Henry leaned back against a tree trunk, adjusting the cracked shell he'd strapped to his shoulder. "Well, at least if something shows up, I'll look terrifying," he said, striking a mock-heroic pose.
Ella rolled her eyes and bumped him gently with her elbow. "Or delicious."
He gasped in feigned offense, exaggerating the motion as he polished the shell with the corner of his shirt. "Hey, this is premium armor. It'll protect me from everything… well, except your sarcasm."
Shaking my head from their bickering, I stood slowly, brushing dirt from my hands and stretching the stiffness from my shoulders. As I moved away from the firelight, Benjamin looked up from where he sat, his brow raised.
"Going somewhere?"
"Just thinking we should set some traps," I replied, glancing toward the trees. "Nothing fancy. Just something that might give us a heads-up if anything gets close."
He nodded and stood, grabbing a coil of cord from his bag. "Yeah. Good thinking. Let's make it noisy."
Together we moved along the edges of our camp, quietly working in tandem. We wedged sticks into the soil, strung twine between trees, and stacked dry branches that would crack loudly if disturbed. Nothing that would stop anything, but something that might buy us a second or two.
Benjamin paused as he tied a knot around a low limb. "You know, this reminds me of when I was a kid," he muttered beside me. "My brother and I used to make little snares for rabbits behind our house. Thought we were wilderness masters."
I looked up, curious. "You grew up in the woods?"
He smiled faintly, his fingers tugging on the line to test the tension. "More like on the edge of them. My brother Luke, though, he was all in. Knew every trail, every trick. He'd drag me out with him even when I wanted to stay home. Taught me how to read animal tracks, how to fish without bait, how to sleep in the rain and still wake up dry." His smile faded slightly, his gaze drifting toward the firelight. "He passed away a few years ago. But everything I know started with him."
I nodded, returning to the trap in front of me. "Sounds like he left a hell of a legacy."
Benjamin's voice dropped slightly. "Yeah… he did."
He looked up after a beat, turning the question around. "What about you? Where'd you learn this kind of thing?"
I hesitated, focusing intently on tightening the cord. "Military," I finally answered. "Spent years learning survival techniques, setting traps and alarms far more dangerous than these."
Benjamin tilted his head, intrigued. "Sounds intense. Got any stories?"
"Plenty," I admitted with a slight smirk, recalling the countless creative contraptions I'd encountered. "I've seen guys rig up alarms from tin cans and rocks, traps from almost nothing at all. just whatever scraps we had lying around. Sometimes the simplest traps were the most effective."
Benjamin chuckled softly, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, Luke always said simplicity was key. Overcomplicating a trap meant it probably wouldn't work."
A comfortable silence settled between us as we continued our work. The sounds of the forest around us created a gentle backdrop. After a few moments, Benjamin glanced at me again, curious. "What about the people you served with? You still keep in touch with any of them?"
My movements faltered slightly, my fingers tightening involuntarily around the cord. A cold emptiness settled in my chest, memories of faces and voices that I had long since buried.
"Not anymore," I replied quietly, my voice clipped.
Benjamin paused, clearly picking up on the shift in my mood. He didn't pry. He just gave a quiet nod of understanding. "Okay."
We finished setting the last of the traps in silence, each of us retreating inward, thoughts swirling unspoken between the trees. When we returned to the camp, the fire was burning low, casting tired orange halos across the clearing. I sank down with my back against the base of a tree, the bark rough against my shoulders, and let my eyes relax.
Benjamin lingered near the perimeter a moment longer, double-checking the traps. His silhouette flickered in and out of view, caught in the wavering light of the fire before he finally returned to the group, settling down without a word.
Sleep didn't come easily.
It crept in slowly, fragmented, like water leaking through cracks. My thoughts drifted as the warmth of the fire cradled me, the distant sounds of the jungle fading into a soft, rhythmic hum.
Then, in the haze of sleep, I saw it.
A field, endless and impossibly green, rolled out to the edge of sight. The grass swayed in slow, lazy waves, stirred by a warm breeze that carried the scent of summer. Above, the sky stretched clear and blue, so open it felt weightless.
At the heart of it all stood a single, colossal tree—ancient and proud. Its roots, thick and gnarled, rose from the earth like the bones of the land itself, wide enough to serve as a path or a shelter. Its vast canopy spilled across the horizon, each leaf catching the sunlight until the ground below was painted in shifting pools of gold.
Laughter echoed across the field.
Children's voices – joyful and unburdened. They ran in circles around the tree, their shadows flickering like birds in the sun. I couldn't see their faces, but I felt the happiness, the peace. A memory, maybe. Or something my mind had conjured to soothe the weight of everything outside.
But then...
The sky dimmed.
A dry wind swept through the grass, turning green to brown. Leaves shriveled, curling inward. The laughter grew faint, strained. And then came the dust – rust-colored, like powdered blood, rising from the soil in slow, choking clouds. It swallowed the field, clouded the sky, and the tree, once vibrant and alive, began to wither.
I stirred, blinking awake with a sharp inhale. My chest was tight, my body cold with sweat. The fire still crackled softly. Shadows clung to the edges of our camp. I scanned the darkness.
Nothing but trees all around us.
I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake the dream from my head. My pulse slowed. But when I lay back down, the dream returned, frayed at the edges but persistent.
The tree stood alone now, stripped of life, its bark cracked and weeping. The field was barren. The children were gone. Only the sound of wind remained, no longer warm, but hollow.
Then a faint giggle floated through the expanse… no, that wasn't right.
The sound didn't come from the dream.
My eyes snapped open again, and I wasn't sure if I'd ever truly fallen asleep. The giggle echoed through the camp, sounding eerily like that of a child, but something was off. It drifted between the trees like a taunt, paired with soft, skittering footsteps in the brush nearby.
My limbs felt heavy, my mind blurred with exhaustion. I hovered in that space between waking and dreaming, every sound louder than it should've been. The forest breathed around us, and the fire felt like the only thing holding the darkness at bay.
Then, something touched me.
A hand.
I shot up, knife half-drawn, adrenaline flooding my system, until I saw her.
Emily knelt beside me, wide-eyed and trembling.
"Atlas," she whispered, barely louder than the fire's hiss. "Something's coming."
I blinked hard, shoving off the fog of sleep as I sat up. My heart kicked into motion, adrenaline pushing through the last of my grogginess. Looking down, I saw that Emily gripped Amelia's gun in trembling hands, the barrel aimed toward the edge of the clearing.
Following her line of sight, I caught a glimpse of a small shape slowly approaching through the trees.
"What the…" I muttered, losing the words as the figure stepped into the glow of the firelight, and for a moment I didn't breathe. It was… wrong.
It wasn't a child—not really. It looked like one at first glance: small, unsteady on its legs, arms shifting as it walked. But it was made entirely of water. A fluid form, glistening like moonlight on a pond, stumbled forward, each motion rippling through its translucent body. Light from the fire danced inside it, twisting through liquid like it was caught in a dream.
And then, the laughter returned.
But not just from one place.
It came from all around – echoing through the forest like a chorus of broken children, high-pitched and manic.
The figure didn't stop as it walked into our camp and up to the fire. It seemed to stare at the fire for a moment before stepping once, then again, into the flames; then its form wavered and collapsed with a splash. Steam hissed violently as the fire went out in a burst of sizzling mist, plunging us into darkness.
"What's going on?" Henry asked, clearly confused as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
Before anyone could answer, Ella screamed.
"Something's got my leg!" Her voice cracked, wild with fear. There was frantic thrashing as if something was being dragged away, then nothing.
"Ella!" Amelia called out, scrambling blindly in the dark.
Then, a sharp gasp as Ella stumbled back into the group, sobbing and clutching at Amelia.
"It grabbed me," she cried. "Something grabbed me!"
"What was it? Did you see it?" Henry whispered as if afraid to attract its attention.
Shaking her head, she just clung closer to Amelia as we all scanned the darkness.
Though without the fire, we couldn't see more than a few feet ahead. But there was one thing that remained. And that was the laughter.
All around us, the things laughed, as if they gained enjoyment from toying with us.
"Stay together!" Amelia snapped, her voice low but fierce, cutting through the mounting panic.
"What th—?!" Benjamin's startled cry rang out—
Thud.
A rush of movement tore through the dark, followed by the harsh scrape of something dragging across the forest floor. Before any of us could react, Benjamin was gone—his muffled yell swallowed instantly by the thick, suffocating darkness beyond the firelight.
"Benjamin!" Owen shouted, bolting toward the sound before vanishing into the dark.
"No!" I barked, already stepping forward to stop him, but a hand clamped on my arm and yanked me back with startling force.
"Atlas, don't!" Amelia hissed. "He made his choice–but we can't split up."
I froze, teeth grinding. Why would he just run after him like that? Reckless idiot—we don't even know what's out there. The thought burned hot in my head, but under it was something worse: the sting of knowing I hadn't moved fast enough to do the same. At least Owen tried.
Frustration clawed up my chest. My hand tightened around my knife, my body begging me to fight, to run, to do something. But Amelia's grip was unyielding, and I knew she was right.
Still… Benjamin's cry clung to me. The sound of him being swallowed by the dark nagged at me. I was completely helpless.
Then, without warning, something wet and impossibly strong coiled around my ankle.
I barely had time to gasp before I was yanked off my feet. My body hit the ground with a jarring thud, the breath tearing from my lungs. Pain flashed through my side as I was dragged violently into the underbrush, scraping over roots and stone. The campfire's remaining embers vanished behind me in seconds, swallowed by the dark.
"Atlas!" I heard someone yell, but it was already too far away.
I twisted violently as I kicked at whatever had me. My heel connected with something weird. There was a sudden splash, and the grip loosened.
For a split second, I was free.
I clawed at the ground, digging my fingers into the damp earth, trying to slow myself. My heart thundered in my chest, lungs gasping for air.
Then it grabbed me again.
It snatched me around the calf this time, tighter, and yanked with such force that I lost all traction. My fingers slipped from the soil, nails bending painfully backward.
"No–!" I barely managed to shout before my body slammed into a thick root. White-hot pain exploded in my ribs, and I crumpled around it with a strangled gasp. My limbs flailed, reaching for anything, but the world spun uncontrollably around me.
Then came the rock.
The back of my head cracked against it.
My vision burst into stars, then smothered into black.
Ella Adams
Atlas's voice vanished into the trees, fading like smoke. One moment, it was there. The next, swallowed by the dark.
Then came the silence.
A suffocating, unnatural stillness that settled over us like a shroud. My heart slammed against my ribs. Emily was shaking beside me, her grip on my arm like a vise, her breath shallow and frantic.
"They took him," she whispered, barely forming the words. "He's gone. They took him."
"Emily." My voice wavered as I tried to ground it. I had to stay calm, if not for me then for her. "We need to keep it together. Atlas is strong. He'll find his way back."
But I didn't believe it. Not fully. Doubt twisted in my gut like a knife.
Amelia's voice broke through the haze. "Stay close. No matter what. Do not let anything separate us."
We huddled tighter around the dying embers, our circle shrinking instinctively.
Then, like a cruel reminder, the laughter returned.
Mocking and Distant, like too many voices overlapping in high, almost gleeful tones. It echoed through the forest like a chorus of nightmares.
Snap.
The sharp sound of one of Atlas's traps springing to life– We all whipped around, breath catching in unison. The jungle fell silent once more, as if it were holding its breath along with us.
Henry's voice wavered. "Atlas?"
There, between the trees, a tall figure stood watching.
Hope flickered across my face as my heart skipped a beat.
Is he back?
But something about it was wrong. The thing stood too still.
If it were Atlas, he would have made a sound at least? Wouldn't he?
But the thing just stood there… completely silent and motionless, as if… waiting?
"Atlas," Amelia called out. Her voice shook for the first time. "Say something."
The figure didn't respond as it slipped back into the dark without a sound.
Panic rose in my throat like bile. Emily began sobbing beside me, her body trembling so hard I could feel it through her grip. "What was that?" she gasped. "Why didn't he answer?"
"I don't think it was him." Henry stammered.
More laughter. Louder now, more erratic. Like it was circling us, tightening the noose. Shapes flickered at the edges of my vision, fast and impossible to follow. Every time I turned, they were already gone.
Something brushed my shoulder.
I spun, breath caught in my chest. Nothing. Just the whisper of leaves shifting in the breeze that hadn't existed a moment ago.
"Did you feel that?" I asked, eyes scanning the dark. I hated how fragile I sounded.
But before anyone could answer. Crack!.
Above us. The branches overhead rustled with violent force. We flinched as leaves rained down, and I looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of something small with a silver glint to it before it slipped away into the canopy.
"They're everywhere," Amelia muttered. Her hands were trembling as she gripped the gun like it was the only thing anchoring her sanity.
Then silence.
Emily's frantic, stuttered breathing – the one thing I hadn't realized I'd been listening to… was suddenly gone.
The absence was deafening.
"Emily?" My voice cracked. I turned, expecting to see her next to Henry like she had been just seconds ago.
But there was Nothing. "Emily!?" Hysteria threatened to override my logical thinking.
I need to go find her. I need to go rescue her.
"Emily! Answer us!" Amelia's voice rang out in rising desperation.
And then A giggle.
High and clear, like that of a child.
It floated through the darkness like it didn't belong here. My skin crawled. We spun toward the sound, hearts in our throats, but it evaporated into the thick shadows, replaced by something worse.
A whisper.
So close I could feel it.
Words I couldn't make out were whispered through the wind.
"They're playing with us," I breathed, the truth sinking into my bones. "They're picking us off one by one."
As if to prove me right, I caught a flicker of movement in my periphery. A figure just outside our subtle firelight, moving when I moved, mimicking me.
A shadow of a shadow.
It danced once, then vanished.
–A pebble bounced off Henry's leg. He jumped, letting out a startled curse.
"Stop!" he shouted into the darkness, voice cracking.
The forest responded with a chorus of whispers, rising and falling like waves – coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Leaves rustled underfoot, but there was no wind. A cold breath ghosted across the back of my neck.
"We need to move…," Amelia said, her voice taut with urgency. "We can't stay here."
Then– snap!
One of the traps.
From the shadows emerged a tall figure, swaying unnaturally in the pale moonlight.
Henry stepped forward slightly. "Atlas?" His voice was thin with hope, but I could hear the dread in it.
The figure tilted its head, but didn't speak.
Another trap snapped off to the right. We spun.
By the time we turned back, the figure was gone.
The minutes that followed felt endless. We stood close, backs nearly touching, the jungle pressing in on all sides. More whispers came, circling. Shapes flickered just beyond reach. Then–
Another figure appeared.
This time…
Benjamin.
Relief tore through my chest. "Benjamin!" I cried out, stumbling a step toward him.
But then it moved. When it stepped forward, its leg bent inward, causing it to stumble. And then its mouth opened.
Water spilled out in a thick gurgling, flooding down its chin and chest. The sound it made was wet and wrong, like a bubbling drain.
Amelia finally snapped.
BANG!
The shot cracked through the trees like a lightning strike.
The laughter died instantly, as the form of the mimic fell to the ground in a slash of leaves and water.
Even the jungle held its breath.
Then a storm of movement.
Scurrying. Dozens, maybe hundreds of tiny footsteps burst into motion, rustling through the underbrush and vanishing into the dark.
And just like that, they were gone.
The laughter was no more. Only the jungle remained, its distant, alien calls echoing faintly, as if none of it had ever happened.
We were left in the aftermath, shaking, breathing too hard, the memory of the cold still clinging to our skins.
Atlas Mercer
Consciousness returned in fragments.
The first thing I felt was the weight of leaves landing on my chest. One. Two. Then a soft rain of them, brushing across my face like feathers. My body ached. My head throbbed with dull, rhythmic pain that pulsed behind my eyes like a second heartbeat.
I groaned, breath shallow, and forced my eyes to open.
The world spun.
Shapes twisted and blurred in the dark. My ears rang faintly, and for a moment, I couldn't tell which way was up. I blinked hard, trying to ground myself, the taste of dirt and moss thick in my mouth. Disoriented, I pushed myself upright with a sharp inhale.
Then something moved.
I caught the briefest flash of motion as something darting through the underbrush just beyond my feet.
I wasn't alone.
One of them didn't move fast enough.
Bathed in faint moonlight filtering through the canopy, a figure stood at the edge of the clearing. Its body was that of a small child with a Slender build. Its skin shimmered like liquid silver, almost translucent. Long ears twitched upright, and two enormous blue eyes locked onto mine, reflecting the glow of a drifting bioluminescent insect above it.
For a long, breathless moment, we just stared at each other.
I didn't move.
Neither did it.
Then, like smoke in the wind, it vanished into the shadows.
"What. The. hell…" I murmured. My grip tightened on the knife, its worn hilt grounding me.
A split second later, a gunshot cracked through the jungle – sharp and jarring, slicing clean through the night like a scream.
I flinched hard. The sound echoed wildly off the trees. Then came the chaos: scurrying shapes, the snap of twigs, the rustle of frantic retreat. Dozens of small, unseen bodies scrambled away in every direction.
And then… silence.
I stayed still for a long moment. Until I finally managed to gather my bearings and climb to my feet. Pain bloomed through my ribs, and every muscle screamed in protest, but I forced my body to move. I staggered forward, pushing through tangled branches and clawing roots, navigating by instinct alone.
"Amelia?" My voice came out weak, almost hoarse, barely audible to even my ears. I forced myself to raise it louder, urgency pushing past exhaustion. "Amelia? Ella? Henry?"
Branches whipped against my face as I hurried through the dark, following the direction of the gunshot. My heart raced, a panicked rhythm fueling each step. Just as a sense of disorientation started to overwhelm me again, I burst through a thick cluster of leaves and into a clearing.
Instantly, the cold metal barrel of Amelia's gun was aimed straight between my eyes. My breath caught, hands shooting up instinctively.
"Wait–! Amelia. It's me!" I said quickly.
For a tense second, the gun remained trained on me. Then Amelia let out a shaky breath, lowering the weapon and stepping back. "Atlas," she whispered. "Thank God you're ok, but where's Benjamin?"
"I don't know," I admitted bitterly.
Ella stepped forward cautiously, eyes wide with fear. "Emily's gone, too."
My gut twisted in dread. We couldn't lose anyone else tonight. "We need to find them."
Amelia nodded sharply, motioning everyone closer. "Stay close and keep your eyes open."
We moved carefully through the dense vegetation, our collective breathing the only sound besides the distant, unsettling rustle of unseen creatures. Every shadow seemed to hold something sinister, every snap of a branch sent chills down my spine. Despite it all, we kept pushing forward.
"Emily?" Ella called softly as if not to attract too much attention. "Emily, please answer!"
Just then, a soft sobbing reached our ears, a trembling cry just ahead. Ella ran forward, nearly tripping as she rushed toward the sound. I followed closely, pushing through tangled bushes until we found Emily huddled tightly in the underbrush, her arms wrapped around herself, shaking uncontrollably.
Ella immediately knelt beside her, placing a gentle hand on Emily's shoulder. "Emily, it's okay. We're here."
Emily flinched at first, startled, before recognizing us. Tears streaked down her pale, dirt-smudged face, her body trembling violently. "They... they were everywhere," she whispered brokenly. "I-I couldn't get away."
"We've got you now," I reassured her, gently squeezing her shoulder, trying to steady my own trembling hands. "You're safe."
Amelia stood close, eyes fixed on the surrounding darkness, her grip on the gun tightening with every second. "We're still missing Owen and Benjamin."
Before I could respond, distant shouts cut through the night—Owen's voice, though too garbled to make out.
"Owen?!" I yelled back.
The yelling grew louder until Owen stumbled into the clearing, breathless, with a very perplexed, mud-smeared, and leaf-covered Benjamin in tow.
He just stumbled forward, breathless as he looked at us with wide, almost manic eyes.
"Thank God you're all alright," Amelia exhaled, stepping forward to pull both of them into a hug. They stayed there for a moment before Ella's voice broke the silence.
"What happened to you two?"
Benjamin glanced at each of us, his expression uncertain, then cast a wary look around the trees. "I'll tell you on the way, but first, let's get out of here."
We gathered our gear and whatever food we could carry, then set off through the forest, and didn't stop till we were far into the morning. As we walked, Benjamin explained that after being dragged away, the things had held him down with what he described as living water, covering him in leaves and dirt—but always leaving him room to breathe. They never hurt him. In fact, he said, they were almost gentle as they carried him off.
Lucky bastard, I couldn't help but think back to how I was treated. My ribs and head still throbbed from the way they'd handled me, and I found myself absentmindedly massaging the forming bruises. According to Benjamin, once Owen arrived, the creatures had scattered—laughing—right up until the sound of the gunshot.
Eventually, the confusion of that night faded into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of moving forward. As we pushed deeper into the jungle, the chaos didn't follow us. Instead, the world ahead seemed… still. Almost too still. Distant hoots from monkey-like creatures echoed overhead, sharp and evenly spaced, like sentries calling to one another from the safety of the trees.
But just when it felt like we might finally catch a breath, we stumbled upon the first corpse.
Its flesh hung in sagging folds, darkened and discolored as if rotting for weeks – yet its eyes were still glossy, staring blankly skyward. Blood pooled beneath it, bright and wet, soaking into the leaves as if it had died minutes ago.
The whole sight was unnerving to say the least, but despite everything, no one spoke of it as we just moved on, too tired to do anything else.
A while later, we found a narrow hollow tucked beneath the massive roots of an ancient tree. Its trunk rose like a pillar into the canopy, roots coiling around it in thick, tangled arcs that carved out pockets of space just large enough for us to squeeze inside. The air was cooler here, heavy with earth and decay — but it was hidden, away from the corpses, and in the end, that was enough.
One by one, we slipped into the shadows beneath the roots. Ella was first, dropping her pack and curling up against the curve of the trunk with a tired sigh. Emily settled beside her, shaking from exhaustion.
Henry squeezed in last, collapsing onto the packed earth with a groan.
The jungle murmured beyond the roots with distant chittering, a low hum of unseen life. But down here, wrapped in the damp stillness, the sound felt muffled and far away.
And as the warmth of the earth pressed in around us, exhaustion finally won out. One by one, we drifted into an uneasy sleep beneath the tree's ancient roots.