Buzz pressed himself further into the hollow, claws digging into damp soil, the burn of gold still crawling through his veins. Zza settled beside him, silk draped like a ragged cloak over her arms, frayed and sticky with ichor. Neither moved for a long moment, just listening.
The forest hummed quietly, almost polite. But Buzz could feel it—the pressure, like tiny hands pressing through his shell, searching, testing. Leaves trembled, branches sighed, and somewhere a distant insect shifted, but it wasn't ordinary movement. It was deliberate, aware. Calculating.
Zza's eyes flicked to a branch, then another. "It's here," she whispered, silk trembling. "I don't feel it, I *know* it."
