[Loyalty Increase Detected. +3 KE]
The system message blinked in Raif's vision before vanishing like breath in mist. No names. No details. Just the quiet confirmation that someone, or more than one, had begun to trust him more. Raif didn't feel victorious. Loyalty in this place didn't feel like unity. It felt like a kind of slow surrender.
The clearing bore the memory of the storm like a wound. Pools of water lingered around the half-shelters. Mud laced with bits of bark and shredded vine coated every surface. The trench along the northern slope glistened with dirty runoff. The cellar, really just a deep pit lined with rough stones, was half-filled with water, stagnant and brown. They'd tried bailing it out, but it kept seeping back through the ground.
Raif stood at its edge, arms folded. Eloin crouched nearby, one foot braced against a slippery root, scooping water with a hollowed-out branch.
"We should've lined it better," Eloin muttered. "The whole base is compromised."
"It wasn't supposed to flood," Raif said. "None of this was."
"The weather doesn't care."
Raif nodded grimly. "We'll start again. Shallower next time."
"It wouldn't have made a difference. Water would still find a way in, whether it is from the rain, or from runoff along the soil," Eloin muttered. "We need a proper elevated foundation if we ever want to construct anything worthwhile. Even this pathetic shelter we call home is nothing more than just sticks, vines and stones wrapped together to form a roof over our heads."
Raif sighs and shakes his head. He didn't know what else to say since Eloin was correct. There was nothing to be done but something needed to be done otherwise they would just remain stagnant, like the water that pools the cellar.
He turned toward the centre of the camp. Thomund was hunched beside the trench he'd dug before the storm, one hand sunk into the mud. His face was taut with concentration. "The soil's off," he said.
Raif moved closer. "How off?"
"Smells wrong. Sharp." Thomund lifted a clump and sniffed it. "Acidic."
"The rain did this?" Raif asked.
"Or something in it."
Naera approached silently, crouching beside Thomund. She touched the soil, and rubbed it between her fingers. "The ground's changed. Everything soaked in what fell."
"Could just be rot," Goss offered from nearby, picking bits of bark from his boots. "Everything smells like shit after a storm."
"No," Thomund said. "This is different."
They were interrupted by Lira, who stepped into the conversation with a noticeable limp. Her leg was wrapped in a makeshift splint, and though she said nothing, her face was carved with lines of pain and exhaustion. "What matters is what comes next," she said. "What if it rains again?"
"We're not ready," Raif admitted.
"We were never ready," Goss muttered. "And the vines aren't helping. These shit bags keep crawling closer and closer."
They all turned.
The vines.
In the wake of the storm, they'd grown. Not just upward, but outward. Across the soil, across the shelter, across the very edge of the clearing. Subtle, but constant. And worse: they were beginning to move in ways no one could explain. One cluster had reached over a pile of tubers that Goss hid before the storm and now twisted and gripped onto them.
"Pulled it right off the rock," Thomund said. "I saw it."
Raif frowned. "Vines don't just move."
"Neither do trees," Goss added, "but half this place rewrites itself after sundown. Look over there... See that tree, it was forked, twisted. Now it's straighter than an arrow. Gives me the creeps, can't even tell if its the same tree."
"And above us, it's clearer. The canopy has spread apart, letting more light into the clearing, but that wasn't the case for the many days and nights we were here," Thomund explained. "The jungle is changing. Whether it's good or bad is up to our interpretation, although... Nothing good has exactly happened yet."
The group fell into tense silence.
Naera didn't speak, but her eyes lingered on the vines. There was a flicker of emotion there, worry, yes, but something else. Something harder to name. Something that seemed to draw her in.
Later, while Goss and Eloin tried to shift the remaining salvageable food, Raif caught Naera kneeling near the treeline, her fingers brushing a thick runner vine. Her eyes seem to trace up and down, looking at the vine wrap around its host like a mother hugging her child.
He stepped closer. "Naera."
She didn't look at him. Her hand hovered over the vine, then gently pressed down. It was a soft touch, like a child playing with its favourite toy.
"They're listening," she whispered.
Raif's stomach twisted. "Don't."
His hand was outstretched, ready for any unexpected situation. His eyes wander between Naera and the vines, like hawk watching its prey.
"I need to understand."
The vine curled slightly beneath her touch, then lifted.
Raif moved fast. He grabbed Naera by the arm and pulled.
The vine snapped forward like a striking whip, lashing around her wrist. It didn't constrict, it flowed. Coiled. Faster than a snake wrapping around its prey, and more precise than a falcon flying at its target.
Raif yanked hard. "Let go!"
"I can't!" she gasped.
Raif twisted, braced his foot against the dirt and pulled with both hands. The vine tore free with a sickening sound. They stumbled back with a soft grunt coming from Raif as he landed. Sweat dripped down his face as his heart seemed to skip a beat at the terrifying experience.
The tendril writhed for a moment, then slithered back toward the trees.
Naera's wrist was red. Not broken. Not bleeding. But visibly marked. A trail of grey-green residue remained.
Raif stared at her. "No more. Stay away from them."
She looked at the ground. "It wasn't attacking."
"It wasn't helping either. Don't do it again."
Thomund and Lira approached as Raif helped Naera up. They'd seen enough to know something was wrong.
"What happened?" Lira steadies herself against Thomund, whilst gripping onto a long stick she must have found on the ground.
"Nothing good. We need to be careful." Raif said as he brushed the dirt and mud off his hands and clothes.
"There is something there. Something is watching us. Something listening. Not an animal or creature, but something else." Naera said while moving towards the vines once more.
However, Raif stopped her, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her away.
"Stop. We shouldn't take any chances."
Hesitant at first, Naera slowly nodded.
"We need to move supplies again," Thomund said, watching the vine as it slowly vanished into the underbrush. "And burn any vine that gets too close."
Lira's mouth was tight. "We should've done that days ago."
"At least we can start now," Thomund muttered.
Back at the fire, they gathered, preparing branches to set aflame the vines.
The orb pulsed faintly, indifferent.
Raif sat before it. "You could've warned us."
The orb said nothing.
Naera sat nearby, silent, arms wrapped around her knees. Goss crouched close to the fire, tossing a stick into the embers every few seconds. Eloin used a knife to scratch a plan into bark. Thomund watched the treeline. Everyone was doing something different, but they felt strangely comforted with just the presence of each other. Despite their differences, at the start.
Lira's voice broke the silence. "What if this is just how it ends?"
No one answered.
The vines moved slowly, just outside the light.
"Lira, come closer to the fire. Don't stay too close to the clearing's edge." Raif warns Lira of the incoming danger, and Lira happily obliges, limping close. Her previous tough attitude seems to have softened after coming face to face with death. Naera comes close to Lira, tightening the hastily made splint. No words needed to be spoken between them.
In silence, they were comforted, and with it came security.
[Loyalty Increase Detected. +5 KE]
Raif looked up at the orb again. "You want loyalty? Then tell us what's coming."
A flicker of light. Then:
[Environmental Hazard Identified: Adaptive Flora]
[Warning: Defensive Measures Currently Unavailable]
[Next Challenge Pending Activation]
Raif's hands tightened. "It sees it. But it won't help."
"We make our own help," Eloin muttered. "We always have."
"We had NO other choice!" Goss yelled with gusto, but as he did so, he collapsed to the ground.
"GOSS!"
Raif quickly leaps to his feet, sprinting over to Goss to see sweat dripping profusely off his blazing hot body. His eyes seem to drift from left to right, unfocused on anything but a haze. Naera arrives just as quickly, scanning Goss's body before pulling the bottom of his pants up to reveal a small purplish cut. Green liquid oozes out of the wound as Goss gasps for breath. His hand clutches Riaf's outstretched arm.
"It's an infection. You must have been cut when you were wandering around earlier."
Naera's words cut like a knife. A disaster worse than any creature or vine that could kill them.
"I-I-I don't want to die."
Those words hung heavier than any weight.
Words that couldn't be answered.
Tears stream down Goss's face as his body shakes; there is nothing that could be said to reassure him.
New Challenge: Treat the Infected wound