The first light of dawn didn't just break the horizon; it bled through the canopy of the Arorikund Valley in jagged, golden spears. June's eyes snapped open. The warmth of the fire had long since vanished, replaced by a biting chill that clung to her skin like a damp shroud. She sat up on the high platform, feeling surprisingly refreshed despite the hard wood beneath her.
June stood, stretching her limbs until her joints popped, and reached for her new bow. It felt lighter than her old one—better balanced, almost as if it were an extension of her own arm. To test it, she notched an arrow and tracked a single, yellowing leaf drifting down from a nearby branch.
Thwip.
The arrow pinned the leaf to a distant trunk with clinical precision. June nodded to herself, retrieving the arrow before looking back at the camp. Blop was finally stirring. He rose slowly, but his newly gained consciousness had a flaw: he completely forgot he was sleeping three feet off the ground.
Thud.
Blop hit the dirt with a heavy, ungraceful sound. June couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her lips as she watched him scramble to his feet.
How can someone so dangerous be so incredibly dumb? she wondered.
Blop ignored the fall, stretching his hands toward the sky as he noticed June was already active. He opened his mouth, his vocal cords struggling to mimic the complex vibrations of human speech.
"A... moni... ing," he croaked.
The sound was broken and gravelly, hanging in the air with a thick, awkward weight.
June stared at him for a beat, trying to process the mangled greeting. Blop simply turned away, picking up his new shortsword—the blade was lighter and caught the morning light with a lethal, silver gleam.
"No time for talk. We have to move,"
June said, cutting through the silence. She tossed a handful of berries toward him, which he caught effortlessly. "Pack the gear. We're heading for the city."
They set out into the dense forest. The path was swallowed by thick bushes and ancient undergrowth, making every step a chore. As they pushed forward, the atmosphere began to shift.
The vibrant greens of the valley faded into a sickly, gray pallor. The air grew heavy with a thick, unnatural fog that smelled of stagnant water and old rot.
June stopped, her eyes narrowing as she analyzed the landscape. "The Swamps of Withered Trees," she whispered.
This was a notorious region of the Arorikund Valley. The trees here were skeletal, their bark black and peeling like burnt skin. They looked dead, yet they stood with an eerie, watchful posture, as if waiting for a traveler to stumble. June looked up, catching the sun's position through a break in the mist.
"Narier is South," she muttered. "If we go through the swamp, it's a shortcut. But once we're deep inside, the fog will hide the sun. No sun means no compass. If we lose our way in there, we're finished."
She made a quick calculation. The sun was still rising toward its peak; they had enough time if they moved fast. With a final look at the golden orb above, she led Blop into the gray veil.
The deeper they went, the darker it became. The fog muffled all sound, turning the forest into a tomb. Suddenly, June's foot was yanked from under her. She hit the mud with a gasp.
"Something just grabbed my ankle!"
she hissed, heart racing. She looked back, but there was nothing there—only a gnarled, twisted root protruding from the muck.
She stood up, shaking off the mud, and continued. But the feeling of being watched intensified.
She heard faint, airy whispers drifting through the trees. She glanced back at Blop, thinking he was speaking, but his mouth was shut tight.
Suddenly, Blop stopped. His entire body went rigid. He didn't say a word, and he didn't reveal how he knew, but his senses were screaming. He dropped into a fighting stance, his hand gripping the hilt of his shortsword.
"Did you see something?"
June asked, her own bow already drawn.
She scanned the mist. Nothing moved. The silence was absolute. She was about to tell him to keep moving when a thick, rope-like root whipped out of the mud and coiled around her ankle with terrifying strength.
"Blop!"
Before she could even fire, Blop was a blur of motion. He didn't just attack; he moved with an instinctual predatory grace. His new sword carved through the root in a single, clean arc. A thick, black fluid sprayed from the wood as the root shriveled back into the earth.
June realized the horror of the region: there were no monsters here because the trees were the monsters. The withered grove was a living trap.
"Move! Don't let your guard down!" June commanded.
They ran. Every few steps, the earth would heave as roots tried to snag their feet or branches tried to lash out from above. They moved in perfect, panicked synchrony—June calling out directions based on her last memory of the sun, and Blop acting as a silent shield, his blade flashing through the dark fog whenever a branch got too close.
After what felt like a lifetime of stress, the fog finally began to thin. They burst out of the swamp into a sun-drenched clearing. June doubled over, gasping for breath, her chest heaving with relief. Blop slowly relaxed his stance, though his eyes remained fixed on the dark tree line they had just escaped.
June looked up. The sun was now directly overhead, marking high noon. They were safe, for now.
"We're resting here," she panted, finding a cluster of healthier trees to provide shade.
They sat in the quiet of the meadow. June's stomach let out a thunderous growl, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since the berries that morning.
She pulled some supplies from her sack while Blop sat across from her, quietly eating his remaining berries.
He looked at her, and for a moment, June saw a glimmer of something in his unblinking eyes—a sense of relief. Seeing her safe seemed to soothe the "glitch" inside him.
"So," June said, her voice softer now. "How
was that for a walk?"
Blop didn't answer with words. He simply gave a slow, deliberate nod. He couldn't explain the strange whispers he'd heard or the way the trees felt to him, but he knew they had survived.
June looked at the map in her mind. Only one more area to cross. "One more day," she whispered to the wind. "Tomorrow, we reach Narier."
As the afternoon sun warmed the meadow, they settled in to wait for the night, both knowing that the final stretch of their journey would be the most dangerous of all.