We didn't take too long, before venturing back into the warpath. Rilah was yet no closer to being found, than if I had heeded her grandatha's advice, and returned home to Abba. I fixed my attention onto the distant fathoms, and I scanned for the next top priority—mobility.
There's no shot of us making any kind of significant progress much deeper into The Stalks, if I can't relieve some of the pressure off of Janny's leg. Sure, he may be fine in a week or two, but right now, he was a liability.
My eyes locked onto a small tree that was a little over shoulder height in the mid-ground. "There!" I pointed, half-jogging over to the sapling; trying so hard to make some headway in the shallow polka-dotted twilight of the rainforest.
The others joined my side, as I set down the fork, and pulled the sickle from my waistband.
"Huh?" sounded Fimbs, from under the clove of Janny's armpit. "What's that..? Another landmark?"
"This," I corrected, forcing the angled edge against the grain of the soft xylem in the under-developed tree, and sawing carefully in a way that just peeled the fibers apart. "Is going to be Janny's new leg."
It was sweaty work, but the time lost here would be more than made up for in the ground we could cover once it was finished. I scraped carefully, effectively filing the individual fibers of the tree apart, as a soft, comforting smell wafted across my reckoning.
I furrowed my brow, and worked more tenaciously, as any new change in The Sunset usually came with equally undesirable consequences. Since I was lower to the ground, it made sense that whatever changes it invited would hit me much more strongly than my associates standing behind.
I cleared my throat, and scowled, as I sawed through the remaining heart of the tree; before shooting up to my feet, and gasping for air, to their bewilderment.
"What, what's wrong?" asked Fimbs, concerned at the suddenness of my seemingly random action. "Were you holding your breath? Did the tree—?"
I held up my open palm to her face, and shook my head. "It's fine... This, here, is good enough for what we need. The breath thing was something else." Then, as if to lend credence to my claim, I bent the sapling over, where it separated away from its stump with an audible snap; a small triangle of stubborn phloem and bark still clinging desperately, as the only remaining bridge between the earth and Janny's new crutch.
I stepped on the triangle, and it broke again, leaving the staff with a bright patch of exposed white heartwood on its front-facing side. I then, quickly set about shaving off excess limbs and branches, until there was a small pile of leaves and twigs that would normally make a nice set of firewood, once dried.
"Thanks," Janny said, as he received the sturdy implement. Then, he took a curious sniff of the air, with confusion made explicit by his expression. "Wait, do you smell that?"
My eyes went wild with panic as the smell grew stronger, and now the others began to notice it, too. Time was ticking, and whatever ill effect was about to come to pass would only grow with intensity as time went on.
"Guys, don't breathe too deeply! I think this is a bad sign." I ordered, before holding my breath to gather up the fork that I had dropped, and picking up a seemingly random direction to trail.
"What do you mean?" asked Fimbs, innocently. My head was swimming with dizzying thoughts, and I couldn't focus my eyes. It smelled like the sweetest, most potent medical salve could be found just on the other end of that scent trail. "It doesn't seem to be bothering me, that much."
I shook my head, clutching at my temples and wandering off in hopes that they would heed my warnings to follow. I had already inhaled too much, while I was down on my knees.
The earth swelled and ebbed under my feet, as I struggled to stay upright. "Zoel?" Janny called, too far away to have been honoring my genuine advice for help. It was too late for them, now. I had to get away, myself. I could come back for them, later.
I just had to lead by example, and hope that they could snap out of whatever hypnotic trance was holding them hostage. I simply couldn't save them, when I was barely able to resist the scent, myself.
Tears swelling in my eyes, I wandered blindly in the growing darkness of the shadowy forest, for what felt like hours, stumbling at times over mushrooms, flowers, and low-hanging vines that sought to bind me in The Stalks, as one.
I felt complete. The forest was inviting me with open arms to join their host, and I didn't know why I was still bothering to fight it. It seemed only natural to return to The Stalks; where all life originated.
A distant voice was calling out to me, begging, and pleading with me to turn back, but I would never do something so foolish. There was a terrible danger that lurked in the darkness that way, and they were wandering into a trap.
I had warned them, but they chose their own instincts over the wisdom I had imparted—their own loss.
I leaned against a striped tree, and vomited; the sour bile burning on my throat. I couldn't help it. The smell was so strong, even now, that I could barely keep myself aloft. I felt bad for my friends, who had wandered so close to its siren call. How much worse would their suffering be than mine, as the smell's ill effects worked its way out of my system?
I looked back at the fledgling light of the torch in my rear, and shuddered. I would get help, and return for them. They had to come back home with me, or I would never forgive myself. It just didn't make sense for us all to die, for their lack of obedience.
I was almost safe. I didn't know how I knew, but I did. I just had to make it over the next ridge, and there was sanctuary. There was food, and there was warmth, and there was Rilah.
I couldn't explain it, but there was no doubt in my mind, that Rilah would be there. Where else could she possibly be? My footsteps became difficult, as I drew close.
A cloying, dizzying stench filled my nostrils, suddenly, as I passed a deer carcass. That didn't make sense. This was supposed to be a safe place. I knitted my brow together, and looked around.
At my feet was a thick, mucus-like glue layer, on top of a petal of bright red. Ahead wasn't my promise of food and warmth, but a canal of serrated fibrous thorns facing inward down its yonic passageway.
'It wasn't possible...!' I was so sure that I had gone away from the smell, but I had wound up at the mouth of a Man-eating flower, all the same.
I was tricked.