5.4

August remained where he was, back pressed against the base of the tree, just waiting for his heart to stop trying to tear its way out of his chest. The attack put a lot of things into perspective for him, of how dangerous the forest was, how outmatched he was against the wildlife, and how truly lucky he’d been back then that Ladybug had been the [Efkini] that had spotted him. The other one would have torn him apart and left him hanging from a tree somewhere.

“Fuck,” August said, letting out a long breath. “Okay. We get what we came for, and we leave.”

August pushed himself to his feet and planted a hand against the trunk before carefully leaning out. The chain was still limp, running from his spear to the hole in the tree. A second coil of the chain was just in sight, snaking past and out of sight. Approaching the monster felt like a bad idea, but he couldn’t let it go to waste. The chains, the spikes—for all he knew, it might be the only available metal on the entire island.

“Red alert, fluffball,” August said before Ladybug could zip back up into the trees. “If it moves, kill it.”

Ladybug vanished with a trill, and August stepped out into the open. He went wide, keeping the chain in hand—just in case it was only playing dead, but when he got a clear view of it, he knew that wasn’t the situation.

There were more holes in the monster than actual body mass, and the tree had been eaten away from the attacks it had weathered, but strangely there was no blood. Coil’s of chain dripped out of the holes like intestines, and a single black cube, roughly the size of his fist, sat in the middle of its body, untouched.

August approached, far more certain of its demise than before. He spent a moment untangling the chain from his spear and then dragged it back through the hole in the tree. The corpse of the [Efkini] fell to the forest floor with a crinkle of chains.

“No organs, no blood, no muscles—there nothing inside,” August frowned. “How were you even alive?”

The fur, its legs and the circular body of the monster were hollow, with thin, string-like black cords holding the cube in place. The chains were all attached to the cube, growing from each face like it was being pulled out of mud, but when he touched the cube, it felt as solid as anything he’d ever felt.

He took hold of the cube and then pulled—the black cords resisted for a moment before they began to tear. It took far too much force, and rather than struggle futilely against it, he instead took out his [Flint Knife] and ran the jagged edge over each of the cords until he’d freed it entirely. This time, it came easily, the extended chains being dragged along with it.

Two of the spikes got caught, just enough of the monster’s shell remaining to make it impossible to free. August jammed his knife into the edge of the hole and ripped it open. He freed the last chain and then stood back up, cube in hand and the long chains dangling on the ground—It went into his inventory, chains and all. After a moment of consideration, he took the fur-covered shell as well, unwilling to waste anything that might be useful.

He left the clearing without pause, heading back towards his pile of leaves and started putting them inside of his inventory as well. There was a moment where he considered leaving, but he knew he didn’t have anywhere near enough of the plant to cover a single roof, let alone two. August pushed his concern aside and returned to stripping the plants of their leaves.

He worked faster, no longer moving at the leisurely pace he’d initially set out with; the faint trills in distant treetops had now grown into a sheet of dread hanging over him. His fleetness brought a lack of care, and he soon found his hands bleeding from the spiked barbs that ran the length of each stem.

Once he was certain he wouldn’t have to return for more of the leaves, he turned and left the clearing. The closer he came to the camp, the fainter the trills grew, and the anxiety that had been slowly suffocating him finally began to fade. He stopped at the treeline and managed not to stumble as Ladybug landed on his shoulder.

Everything was exactly the same as how he’d left it—for the most part. Rittan and Kalter had dug a series of holes directly next to the first [A-Frame Hut], matching the placement of its supports. Three of the holes had already been filled with the wood that Rittan had collected the day before, but the remainder was too thick to be used.

August watched them work for a moment, feeling a dissonance between their calm and what had just happened to him. Mentally, he knew that they weren’t even aware of the attack; they hadn’t experienced any of the adrenaline or fear that had come with it, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of something being wrong with the sight.

August let out a slow breath and stepped into the sun, doing his best to leave the fear behind.

“August,” Rittan said in greeting, “I wasn’t sure how thick we could make the supports, so we used the thinner branches—will these work?”

Kalter bent over the hole she was digging, looked up and frowned.

“Yeah,” August said, coughing to clear his throat. “They’re fine; we can cut down some branches from the treeline here for the rest of the supports.”

Better that than to send either of them back into the forest.

“You’re bleeding,” Kalter noted.

August followed her gaze downwards—sure enough, there was a lone line of red along the top of his thigh. It had bled downwards in a wave, covering almost two inches of his skin in dried blood. He hadn’t even noticed it, nor was he sure when it had happened.

“The leaves I was collecting have spikes on the stems,” August said, unsure if that was what had happened. “Hey, don’t go into the forest without Ladybug, okay?”