The days blurred together as we ventured deeper into the dense forest, steadily distancing ourselves from the unsettling encounters of the past nights. Initially, every rustle in the leaves made us jump, every shadow felt like an imminent threat. But slowly, with each passing day, the forest around us became less frightening and more of a race to adjust.

Our routine settled into a comforting predictability – wake up, check our dwindling supplies, search for food and fresh water, then continue our slow trek forward. Ella's curiosity became our daily beacon, guiding us toward discovery rather than fear. She sketched and scribbled notes tirelessly, her fingertips permanently stained with lead as she documented every detail, turning our strange surroundings into pages of detailed observations.

The trees around us grew taller, their thick trunks twisting together and forming natural arches overhead. The twin suns barely pierced the dense canopy, casting the forest floor in a perpetual twilight glow.

Gradually, we started to recognize the creatures we shared this environment with – not as immediate threats, but as curious cohabitants. Gigantic insects carrying hollow logs across well-worn paths, coiling vines that gently wrapped around our limbs if we brushed too close, and the ever-watchful QuadraSimians, peering down from the safety of the treetops.

Even Henry, who had initially been the most anxious, began to relax. His grip on his spear loosened, his humor slowly returning as he jokingly assigned names to creatures Ella sketched.

Benjamin, always vigilant, began experimenting with the local plant life, cautiously testing their edibility and medical properties. Amelia quietly maintained her watchful presence, but even her eyes softened, no longer constantly searching for hidden dangers.

The fear that had once clenched at every breath was giving way to something quieter. Not quite peace, but a rhythm. A mutual understanding that if we kept moving, kept learning, we might actually make it through this.

I sat on a fallen log, turning my knife absently in my hands, the familiar weight grounding me. I wasn't really watching Ella, but I could see her scribbling furiously out of the corner of my eye – lost in whatever discovery had caught her attention this time.

Overhead, one of the QuadraSimians vaulted between the branches, its four limbs moving with practiced ease. It landed on a thick limb and crouched there, head tilted as it studied us with curious, intelligent eyes.

"QuadraSimian, huh?" I muttered, following its movements with the tip of my blade.

"You don’t like it?" Ella replied, her eyes never leaving the page as she sketched.

"Feels… unnecessary," I shrugged. "Four-armed monkeys work just fine."

"QuadraSimian is more scientific," she replied, still focused on her notes.

"It’s more complicated," I countered, watching another leap from tree to tree with practiced ease. "Do we really need a fancy name for something we might have to kill for food later?"

Before Ella could respond, Emily’s head snapped up from where she had been examining a beetle, her expression instantly shifting to one of horror. "We’re not eating them," she cut in sharply.

I smirked. "Not yet."

Emily huffed, shaking her head as she turned away, muttering something under her breath before refocusing on the beetle in her hand. Ella, unfazed, merely rolled her eyes and went back to her notes, the scratching of her pen filling the silence that followed.

The conversation drifted as the hours passed, eventually giving way to the steady rhythm of survival. Each step brought new obstacles – some small, some dangerous – but all part of the new normal we were slowly adjusting to. The forest's sounds had become familiar, its constant hum less ominous than it once was. Paranoia dulled into vigilance.

By the fourth day, the hunger was harder to ignore. Our supplies had dwindled, and though we’d managed to snare a few small creatures, it wasn’t enough to sustain all of us. That’s when Owen gestured toward the edge of the trail, where clusters of deep purple berries clung to thorny vines.

“I’ve seen the QuadraSimians eating these,” he said, nodding upward toward the canopy, where one of the creatures was perched. 

Ella looked over with a furrowed brow, curiosity flickering in her eyes. She stepped closer, crouching near the berries. “It’s a good sign,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone. “If local wildlife can eat them without showing signs of distress, that’s usually promising.”

“But not always,” Benjamin added, crossing his arms. “Their bodies might process things differently. What’s safe for them could shut our systems down in seconds.”

Ella didn’t argue right away. She hovered there, eyeing the fruit, clearly turning the thought over in her mind. “Still,” she said finally, “if we don’t start testing things, we’ll run out of options.”

“We can’t afford a mistake,” Amelia said, flatly.

Owen looked around, as if to look for any suggestions.

“I’ll do it,” Henry volunteered, already stepping forward with that lopsided grin that usually preceded something reckless. “It’s just a berry.”

“Wait,” Ella started, but he was already reaching toward the nearest vine.

That’s when everything went to hell.

A blur of dark fur dropped from the canopy, teeth bared, a guttural snarl ripping through the air. Before Henry could react, the creature clamped onto his forearm with vicious ferocity.

Henry let out a strangled yell, stumbling back as he tried to shake it loose. But the damn thing held firm, its fangs buried deep, snarling as blood dripped from its maw. Panic flared in his eyes as he struggled, but instinct had already kicked in for me.

My knife was in my hand before I even realized it. One step forward, and a sharp flick of the wrist–

The blade sank deep into the creature’s skull.

Its body twitched, then went limp, its grip loosening as it slid off Henry’s arm and hit the ground with a dull, sickening thud.

Henry staggered back, clutching his bleeding arm, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. “Son of a–” He bit down a curse, his face contorted in pain. “That thing got me good.”

Benjamin was already moving, his usual calm demeanor masking the urgency in his steps. “Sit down.” He knelt beside Henry, assessing the wound with sharp, clinical focus. “We need to clean this properly. Out here, even a small infection could be dangerous.”

I barely heard them. My eyes were locked on the treetops, my grip tightening around the handle of my knife. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, the sharp edge of adrenaline still lingering. Were there more? I scanned the branches, half-expecting another attack.

But nothing came.

I forced myself to take a breath, the tension still coiled tight in my chest.

"You good?" I asked, my gaze still fixed on the canopy.

Henry let out a breathless chuckle, but his usual humor felt forced. "Yeah. Just a scratch. Good to know the monkeys here don’t play around."

Benjamin ignored the remark and pulled out a small antiseptic bottle. “Hold still,” he ordered as he poured the liquid over the wound.

Henry hissed through his teeth. “Ah! That burns.”

“Would you rather have an infection?” Benjamin countered, carefully wrapping gauze around Henry’s arm. “Try not to move it too much. If the bleeding gets worse, let me know.”

Ella knelt beside the lifeless creature, her brow furrowed in confusion. "This is strange," she murmured, turning the monkey-like body over. “They aren’t naturally aggressive… at least, not like this.”

"Maybe it was territorial?" Owen offered, though his voice held uncertainty.

Henry sighed, flexing his injured arm with a wince. "It's probably just protective over its food."

I glanced at the fruit still hanging on the branch, the source of all this trouble. Stepping forward, I plucked one from the vine, rolling it in my palm. It felt oddly heavy, the outer skin textured like a lychee, but stretched into an elongated shape, more like a mango. Small tendrils curled and twitched along its surface, as if responding to my touch.

Taking out my knife, I carefully sliced the fruit in half. The flesh split apart with an odd, wet sound, revealing a translucent blue interior, cradling clusters of black seeds in a honeycomb pattern.

Something about it felt… off.

Henry hissed again as Benjamin tightened the bandage.

"Stop whining," Benjamin muttered. "It’s your own fault for grabbing at strange alien fruit."

Henry scowled. "You sound just like my mother."