Chapter 38: Dancing Puppets
They ran.
Branches whipped their faces, the soft earth gave way under their feet, and behind them, the forest came alive — or rather, it awakened. Slowly. Fiercely. Deliberately.
A creeping shiver, almost imperceptible, spread across the trunks. Spores vibrated. The underground hyphae pulsed, like raw veins. The creature didn’t move fast — it didn’t need to. It could feel. Every step, every breath. It spoke to the earth.
And the earth answered.
A crack to the left. A gelatinous mass to the right. Spores hung in the air like golden dust. But there was nothing golden about it. It was a trap, an offering. A breath of death.
Dylan, leading, cut through a low branch. But he reacted a second too late. It exploded into a rain of white filaments, like a burst seed pod.
"Argh—!"
He fell to his knees. A wet, gurgling sound came from his arm. The spores had touched his bare skin, burrowing into his pores, clinging like velvet claws.
Élisa skidded to a stop. Then turned around.
"No no no no no—"
She reached him, hands already in motion. No panic. She tore open Dylan’s sleeve, revealing a forearm where small growths were already sprouting, streaked with dark green veins, pulsating.