Placida laid out a mat and sat down, pulling her knees up. It was close to evening outside, but in the forest, it was dark.

From the inside of her tent, Placida could hear Hansen and Trebone talking. Their tones were somber and their voices only rose intermittently, matching the gloom of the forest.

Placida herself seemed calm on the outside, but beneath, was a boiling mix of emotions beneath.

The reason for her emotional turbulence was, of course …

Trebone, that idiot. How could he bring that up?

Placida was clenching her ankles as she said this. That and her knees up to her face gave her a brooding look.

But still, it wasn’t like it was his fault.

Placida released her grip on her ankles and took a deep breath.

This forest and the bugmen, monsters and calamities everywhere… they’re all because of Carloman.

Placida clenched her fists.

And he had the nerve to bring it up in the same forest we’re in. That idiot.

Placida desperately wanted to hit something. Not finding anything, she just slammed her fists on the dirt floor.

How can someone so mature also be childlike? Not answering questions, always making jokes, totally unable to read the situation. That’s the part of him that I can’t stand.

Placida fell onto her back, arms outstretched.

He’s normally a kind and sweet person too. Why can’t he just be himself around us? Instead he just bottles up his real feelings and releases it at once… like he did yesterday– drunk and not himself.

Placida shifted onto her right side so the back of her head could cool down.

Why couldn’t he just have told me what he thought? It might have been a little awkward, but he could’ve just pulled me aside and told me.

Placida rolled onto her left side, shifting her mat slightly.

Even if I did reject him, it's not like I would hate him. I guess... I’m not angry that he goofs around instead of being serious.

Placida shifted back again.

I’m just angry that he doesn’t trust me. I–

“AIII!!!”

Before Placida could delve deeper, a chilling shriek reverberated through the tent from outside.

Without a second, Placida rushed out to see if Trebone and Hansen were okay.

---

Trebone and Hansen were outside.

Hansen was sitting on a flat, rotting log. Trebone was leaning on the tree behind him.

“Are the box’s readings coming out okay?” Trebone asked, not really interested.

“No. We’re still getting several problems. The worst part is that the inconsistencies themselves are inconsistent.”

The subject of Trebone and Hansen’s exchange was also the reason Hansen was sitting on the log. In front of him was a gray, metal box three-fourths up to his knees in height.

On the side of the box were several intakes for the sensors, which allowed for several scientific analyses, To see the results, one had to look to the top of the box.

On the top of the box was a black screen with a green text readout and a two handed control scheme. Each hand had 4 buttons, 1 for each finger, and a scrolling wheel for each thumb.

Hansen deftly maneuvered the setup while Trebone watched. It was almost comical to Trebone, watching such a big man hunched over, fiddling with buttons and pushing his glasses up every few seconds.

Trebone struggled not to speak and simply watched silently. He didn’t want to interrupt Hansen too much while he did his work. He instead looked to the tent.

But I wish this air could be lighter… this air of oppression.

Trebone leaned back against the tree. It was times like these where he felt useless.

All I can do is make jokes and jump at decisions. I have no clue how to get rid of this atmosphere.

Trebone looked at his hand. It was only then that he noticed something dripping from them.

What the....

The air wasn’t bound to get any better.