Chloe, walking beside Daniel, paused, her hand reaching out to touch a particularly thick stalk. "It's so… still," she said, her voice soft with a strange mixture of awe and dread. "Except for the noise. It's so loud, but the plants themselves… they don't seem to be moving in the wind. Not really. It's like the sound is coming from inside them." Mark stopped, his flashlight beam illuminating Chloe's hand resting on the stalk. He then swept his beam across the surrounding plants. "She's right," he said, his voice tight with a dawning realization. "The wind is barely blowing. But the rustling… it's relentless." He looked up, his beam tracing the impossibly tall stalks that formed a dense, green ceiling overhead. There was no movement of the leaves that would suggest a strong breeze. The sound, the incessant, dry whispering, seemed to emanate from the very core of the plants, an internal vibration that had somehow been amplified into a deafening symphony of dry, sibilant sounds. A low, guttural rasp emanated from directly beside Sarah, making her yelp and jump back. Liam's flashlight beam snapped towards the sound, illuminating a cluster of thick stalks. Nothing. Just the tightly packed rows of corn, their dry leaves rustling with that same unnerving intensity. But the sound had been so close, so distinct, that it felt as if someone, or something, had whispered directly into her ear. "What was that?" she stammered, her voice trembling. "I don't know," Liam said, his own voice tight. He swung his light around, his gaze searching the impenetrable darkness beyond the immediate radius of his beam. "But we need to keep moving. Now." They pressed on, their pace quickening. The narrow path seemed to shrink further, the corn stalks closing in, their dry leaves brushing against their faces and arms with a persistent, almost malicious intent. The scratching sounds intensified, a constant friction against their skin and clothing. It felt like they were being deliberately marked, each scrape a small claim staked by the field. David felt a sudden, sharp tug on his ankle. He cried out and stumbled, falling to his knees. His flashlight clattered to the ground, its beam skittering across the dry earth before settling on a tangle of thick roots. As he scrambled to retrieve it, he saw it – a root, thick and gnarled, that seemed to have snaked out from the soil, its rough surface catching his boot. But as he looked closer, he noticed something else. The root was not alone. Several other roots, similarly thick and sinuous, seemed to have emerged from the earth, forming a loose, almost deliberate barrier across the path. "Guys," he said, his voice a strained gasp. "Look." The others stopped, their flashlights converging on David's location. The roots, dark and menacing, lay across the path like the coils of slumbering serpents. They were unnaturally thick, their surfaces rough and deeply furrowed, resembling nothing so much as the desiccated limbs of some ancient, buried creature. "What the hell is that?" Daniel asked, his eyes wide. Mark knelt down, examining the roots closely. "They look like… like they've grown out of the ground specifically to block us." He ran his hand over the rough surface of one of the roots. It felt dry and brittle, yet impossibly strong. He tried to push it aside, but it barely budged. "They're anchored deep."
