The sun has set and the rainbow hues in the sky rapidly darken. The unit walk in the mountain’s shadow descending back toward some level of foliage. Mher shifts in Seton’s arms then wakes in alarm; they panic and try to push out of Seton’s holds, murmuring confused pleas.

“Relax, I’ll set you down.” Seton lets them rest on leaves piled up over rocks and the rest of the unit take a moment to relax as well.

“What- What happened?” Mher asks, their hand reluctantly pulling back their cloak to look at their wound.

“After you were shot, I killed them and we fled,” Seton answers simply and takes a swig from his waterskin.

Ashford kneels next to them saying, “I didn't know what you’d want on it, so I just stitched it up and wrapped it.”

“Mmm…” They’re too shaken to look anywhere but their wound. “...Is the arrow…?”

“We took it out,” Ashford tries to reassure.

Quietly, to Ashford, they say, “...It hurts.”

Softly back, Ashford asks, “Are there herbs I can get you?”

They reach around their cloak, so Ashford pulls out what he’d been carrying. Mher leans forward to grab a small embroidered bag but recoils when they accidentally inflict pain on themself. “The bag and aloe,” they murmur.

“I can dress it for you,” Ashford says tenderly.

Mher sighs, their trembling hands wipe sweat from their brow. “...Alright. I’m feeling light-headed, so I’m going to lie down.”

Ashford nods and gets to work. Noticing a twinge of pain despite Ashford being careful, Ashford attempts to distract them, “Have we gotten too close to a ley line?”

“Their eyes glisten and they relay, “We’re coming up on an old one to the north. East feels like the same cluster.”

“Foxyn, find a path that crosses north.” Foxyn pulls a face at Ashford’s request.

“Through the forest or up the ridge?” Foxyn asks, pulling out his maps. Ashford pauses and looks at Mher.

“I’d have to be closer. I only have vague feelings from here,” Mher answers though their wound preoccupies them.

Ashford thinks for a moment. “The forest,” he says simply. In the cool of the evening, Mher’s heart is erratic with each overstimulated touch of their wound and there’s a constant shiver swimming through their body. Ashford speaks soothingly to them though they don’t pay attention to the words.

Once their wound’s dressed and a route is redetermined they continue forth. Mher’s less steady on their feet, but Ashford and Seton are close to steady them if need be; they also carry their things to make it easier. Crossing the old path, Mher makes note that it’s fallen out of use due to lack of resources. The woods past it are thick, a mix of new and old piling on top of eachother. The dead leaves are impossible to maneuver through silently, and theri piercing crunch makes the woods feel eerie to Mher. Unable to search a ley line, Mher’s ears work overtime to pick out the insidious sounds. Even when they stop to rest for the night, Mher lies anxiously mishearing noises.

Ashford notices Mher’s skittish behavior carried over from the night before, so to give them a semblance of comfort he tells them about his first injury in the army. Mher clarifies they’ve been hurt before, but not attacked like that by humans. Ashford tries to destress them regardless.

The morning light allows them to see the tangled growth patterns, branches acting like vines and trunks splitting haphazardly. The whole area is overcrowded. The shrubbery are a hassle to get through, but they eventually are graced by some confused dirt trails. Foxyn and Mher look at each other at the same time.

“Have you travelled here before?” Foxyn asks them.

“...No, not through this spot… I don’t think,” Mher is swallowed by uncertainty perpetually searching for comfort or familiarity in the twisted nature around them.

“Is it that bad not having a map here?” Emmett asks.

“I’d rather not blindly wander through. If I knew where trails and rivers are it’d feel safer to predict where enemies might travel… Not that I think knowing these trails will help us.” Foxyn’s exasperation leaks out with every word.

“If there’s no information then they’re probably not travelling through here either,” Ashford reasons.

“Or they leave it blank on purpose,” Mher counters.

“Mmm,” Foxyn’s uneasy noise seems to be in agreement with Mher.

Finding no point in delaying further they pick a trail headed north and allow Mher and Foxyn to guide them. The path appears to have been formed by animal's strange migration, turning back and going in circles at points.

Foxyn stops; his eyes had caught something move slightly and subconsciously felt it wasn’t a plant. He takes small, mindful steps forward till he can decipher the movement. He can see the top of a deer’s head. It’s ears flick; Foxyn glances at Mher beside him, their ears alert. He’s tempted to grab his bow, but isn’t certain how Mher would react. Mher’s brow is creased sensing something off. The two carefully near the deer and Foxyn’s stomach lurches. Mher’s expression softens to pity.

The fawn sits alert with its limbs tucked underneath it, and a half formed twin head growing out of its neck. A snout and fixed eyes bulge, aware and unmoving.

The other three approach, curious, and catch a glimpse of the fawn. “Is that… a magical creature?” Ashford asks, doubting his own words.

Foxyn is a little surprised Ashford hasn’t heard tales about animals like this but Mher says first, “No, they were born this way. The mother might still come back for them, so we should go around them.”

“Why wouldn’t the mother come back?” Emmett asks.

“Cause it’s going to die,” Seton says bluntly.

Their words cling to Foxyn and his stare is met by the fawn’s innocent gaze. When Mher walks away, Foxyn pulls himself away and follows them.

They leave the fawn and tangling shrubs behind entering redwoods territory allowing some breathing room. It’s blissfully uneventful and allows them a peaceful moment to eat before moving on.

Reaching the other side of the redwoods they come upon a woods overcome by bramble with pink buds. Mher wakes from their shock with fearful realization and says, “Stop.” They hold their scarf over their mouth and nose to get a closer look at the buds; there’s no movement from within but they remain cautious remembering their elder’s numerous warnings. “We need to turn back, so I can find us a different route.”

Mher forces the unit to retreat with little explanation then sprints back to the bramble and follows outside the edge eastward. Their wound is forgotten as they tie up their scarf and search for a ley line. The bramble is far reaching giving them time to piece together the forest that grew so erratically and the misshapen fawn.

The parasite has overtaken the land, driving out any who would speak of it or label it on a map. Perhaps the skin of the redwoods are too thick for the parasite to penetrate leaving a strange protective ring where the forsaken can flourish. Ley lines couldn’t form with such inconsistent energies and few wayward travellers. The problem must have continued to grow out of control with no one able to speak of it. Likely it had become a place of folklore where people and creatures-alike were spirited away.

Traces of a trail waft Mher’s senses and they reach it in bounds. The ley line coincides with an abandoned trail, both weakly maintained, but still usable. Mher dives in and is met with the immense bramble forest spanning from the ridge to the northern snowline spreading to the east. The parasite has eliminated any sensible ley line only leaving warped connections to ancient spaces that have overcome it’s influences and persisted. The views are colorless and virtually indecipherable, the exception being exclusively for signs of movement. They can make out swaying branches and leaves pushed by a breeze. The chilly wind reaches them physically and they pull back from the ley line. The way east isn’t feasible; they’d have to discuss the risks of going through with the unit.

They head back, the wind growing more powerful coming down from the north. A worrisome indicator so Mher runs faster sensing an ill change. They’re within sight of where they left them and see Emmett and Foxyn, and chide themself for worrying needlessly. Then realize it’s only Emmett and Foxyn. Foxyn sleeps at Emmett’s side and Ashford and Seton are gone.

Emmett fixes Mher with a confused look and Mher asks, “Where are Ashford and Seton?”

“They went to look for you since you didn’t come back,” Emmett answers, pointing into the bramble.

“The parasite’s pollen must have carried on the wind.”

“The what?!” Emmett’s startled; the prior conversation completely forgotten. He starts to sit up then notices Foxyn.

“The pollen gets into your system and the parasites work to impair your memory,” Mher explains, shredding some loose cloth and rubbing with hyssop. “Cover yours and Foxyn’s nose and mouth with these. It will stop it from getting worse by hindering anymore pollen.”

“Should I wake Foxyn?” Emmett asks lost.

“...No, sleeping through the confusion might be better for him, but if he wakes up he’ll probably have forgotten more than you, so you’ll have to take care of him, okay?”

Emmett’s eye looks between Foxyn and Mher uncomfortable with his own uncertainty but nods at the instructions, “Okay.”

“I’ll try to be back soon. Don’t move.” Mher implores.

Mher tightens their scarf, flattens their ears, and leaps into the crawling bramble. They can only rely on their tracking skills and minimal assistance from ley line blips.

Deep into the suffocating bramble; Seton alone stalks a man, who follows an aimless path. The man is guarded, his hands on the daggers at his side as his watchful scan carefully searches. The man seems aware of his presence but unable to pin him down. Seton has to strike first, but there are few openings and the bramble overlapping like a floor of vines prevents a speedy attack. The tangle also not open enough to throw a knife. It’s like the man can feel his stare boring into him and stops in an open patch. The space is just big enough to defend himself. Seton takes him up on the invitation emerging from behind him. He turns, showing discontent and a gap tooth.