…They walk on. Regardless of the trials both behind and ahead of them, it’s now Veldit who leads the charge as the jungle swallows both her, Tallalune and himself whole. Once again the time drags on at a pace that rivals a snail’s and Finch’s arm aches with every passing moment. He still isn’t too sure what it was that got him, but periodically the Matriarch checks on his skin to make sure nothing nefarious is brewing beneath the surface. Satisfied, she returns her attention to the path and shares idle conversation with Veldit to keep them both in the loop as to what’s going on both ahead and behind them on the path. 

It’s a real back and forth of a time; a cycle that doesn’t break, and as the adrenaline wears off, Finch wonders how long they might be going on like this before something changes. Finch’s skin feels hot and the deeper they walk into the jungle, the more feverish he feels. Tallalune’s careful not to overcrowd him and he’s grateful of her diligence, but the haze of the jungle makes him want to curl up and wait it out rather than  trudge onwards into nothingness. No matter how long they walk, the jungle just keeps growing thicker. 

Now, vines and fungi seem commonplace, netting the canopy in a variety of treacherous clothing lines that could snag a Tsabhua’s neck if they aren’t careful. Veldit’s been keeping her head low, and Tallalune awkwardly does the same with much more effort on her part to keep her ears from clipping the earthy tendrils. Their path is a mix of mud and stone, small plants popping out in the spaces where the dirt isn’t so compact from whatever wildlife stomping all over it. Occasionally the trio will stop to decompress, and Finch will pull out his satchel of water and pass it around, but they never linger long enough for anything to position itself for another ambush. 

So they keep going. Carnivorous plants loll their heads, languishing in the humidity that draws palm-sized benign insects out from the air and onto their awaiting jaws. Veldit flinches watching one snap shut, for the sound never reaches their ears as the jungle’s song teems with other insects hard at work to fill the silence. They can only watch, and pray nothing is underfoot that might give them the same acidic end as the common jungle fly.

It’s embarrassing how much Finch wishes to crawl into his bed. 

He leans against Tallalune’s shoulder, her arm braced on his as they wind around yet another diverging path that brings them to a small stream cutting through the dense undergrowth. The water sounds nice too, but there’s no telling what sort of bacteria might lay waste to Finch’s delicate system. He learned the hard way early on that some of the most common food and drink of the colonists did not agree with his stomach, and the idea of falling ill now to some sort of exotic parasite makes Finch feel deeply disgusted. It’s Veldit who tests the water with a great paw first, and she’s able to wade into it for the current only comes up to about her ankle. 

Another series of micro-communications between her and Tallalune come through, but in his state he can barely translate their body language and grunts to understand much of it at all. Colour him surprised when he’s hoisted up by the Matriarch, dangling from her arms as she crosses over the stream alongside Veldit who makes sure the water never touches his feet. 

And then he’s plopped back down onto solid ground, completely unharmed by the jungle’s probably fine water. 

On the other side, the jungle is mostly unchanged, but Finch feels at ease knowing whatever attacked them earlier on is far less likely to try and follow them now. That’s not to say there won’t be more many-legged creatures waiting to get the jump on them, but for now they’ve at least squashed one bug in their way.

This time their path dips under a collection of almost conjoined material; vines weave and strangle stems and flowering buds of other plants, while the bark from a long-consumed tree juts out like scales on a serpent’s back. Veldit and Tallalune both give it a wide clearance, and Finch can see why as they walk past the collage of organisms. Quite a lot of those plants tucked away are covered in thin spines that have a suspicious sheen painting their surfaces. There’s no telling what sort of toxin is being secreted from something like that, and given how… wilted everything there looks, Finch decides against collecting any samples to study later, which is probably the first rational thought he’s had since this whole trip began.

More plants, more mud, more ominous lights blinking in and out in the distance, and finally there’s a break in the heaviness that lets Finch breathe in without it feeling like his lungs are going to perish from inhaling too much at once. Both Tsabhua can sense it too; the humidity has cleared in this area for whatever reason, and there’s what feels like… a draft? 

Tallalune casts her eyes to the canopy, and high above the leaves is a small fracture in the roof of the structure that’s long since been reclaimed by the jungle. Air spirals through it, whistling absently as it cuts through the leaves that fail to keep it away from the jungle floor below. It makes Finch long for open skies, and he can see Veldit tuck their hands to their chest as a low, mournful chuff leaves their nose. How long were they wandering around the maze before they found each other? Where was the rest of their caravan?

Finch makes a mental note to check for traces of other colonists in the area as  they progress. Surely they’d come across someone else, someone friendly, if they keep going the way they are now. It’s only a matter of time, right?