It wasn't long until we were hot on the trail, as travel through the spare saplings is always much more expeditious than through the building-saturated glade—even though it was a longer path—there weren't as many obstructions to weave through, as one might think. Dodging and weaving through low-hanging branches, and vines; jumping over short, immature trees, and small creeks cutting swaths through the earth; sliding across moss patches, and slippery leaf litter; and dodging the fleeing wildlife of rabbits, squirrels, and mice; we made our way towards the place that I remembered Rilah, and I, entering the forest only hours before.
"Look!" I gesticulated—as horribly out of breath as ever, but still too overcome with adrenaline to care—as the strange formation appeared in the distance. "See that rock, shaped like a platypus's bill? We passed that, earlier today!"
Janny nodded, with drive channeled onto his features. "So, we're going the right way."
I nodded back, in turn, cutting a right down the slope as we passed it, trailing by a mound of deer droppings, and a not-so-well-hidden nest of turkey eggs in the shade of a small shrub.
I mentally calculated every landmark, as I rushed back into The Stalks; fully knowing the dangers that lay in the domain with which we were inherent on delving through. A flock of buzzards gathered around the gored form of a fallen rhinoskink, with its oblong pupils dilated, and fanged mouth gaped open in a silent question; as if to beg us "Why? Why did my life have to end so abruptly?"
This was a new find, which did not bode well. For something to take down a rhinoskink in this area, naturally, it must have meant that it was horribly misplaced. A rhinoskink in these parts would rule the domain with the authority of a king—or a despot, likely, as he would reduce the critter population to an unreplaceable level—Often, the adults would have to gather together, and put one of the creatures down, just for the utility of the forest's natural balance.
"Ugh," Fimbs groaned, as the smell washed over her, in waves of nausea. "I think I'm gonna be sick."
"Don't look at it, Fimbs," I offered, helpfully. "Where we're going, we might smell a lot of things worse than that."
"Whatever it takes." Janny reassured the both of us, hopping over a small stone that could have tripped a less intrepid explorer. It wouldn't be long now, until we started seeing the tell-tale signs of the next domain begin to gather together before us. A fern there, a vine here, a growing humidity in the air, and a thickening of the cover overhead, was all I needed; to know that we were crossing through the boundary between Daylight and Sunset. It was about to get very cramped, very quickly.
"Everyone, get right behind me!" I called. "Fimbs, it might be time for you to light that thing. You know how?"
Fimbs looked a little panicked, but she nodded, all the same. Janny smiled back at her, comfortingly, and pulled a mass of tinder and a pair of worn, well-used rocks from the bag on his shoulder, as the entire company slowed to a crawl at the edge of The Mesotaigatic Zone. "Here you go, Fimbs. Just don't drop 'em." She looked oddly relieved, as if she'd completely forgotten why she was there, and was pleased to know that he had already thought of everything for her. She smiled that smile again, and shakily accepted the stones, while climbing into the darkness, behind us.
Clack! Clack! Clack! The rocks sang, as a burst of light and sparks shot out from between the two of them, as they struck against each other; casting stark, temporary shadows against the verdant, sweltering overgrowth. Immediately, the insects buzzing overhead grew in number, and the texture of the earth underfoot changed to match the setting of a dense jungle rainforest.
It wasn't that we wanted to slow our procession, after all, but it was simply impossible to move with any level of urgency through the untamed masses of greenery that existed at this depth. Gnarled roots lay, eager to clutch a hold of your ankle; hidden under waist-height foliage that slapped against your chest and into your open mouthful of blinding gnats.
The hands were as active a part of this procession as the legs were, shoving aside branches, and bracing up against the bark of a tree for support while you skipped over an evidently noxious mushroom—so adamant in its intent to colonize your soft flesh for its necrotic spores, and harvest your life's force for the edification of its juvenile spawn that only the name of "reaper shroom" could serve to do it justice. I called out a warning to be especially careful of its potency, lest another of our group be claimed by the malevolent whims of this ruinous hellscape.
Before long, a fizzling noise was heard at our backs, as the junior of our party managed to finally get one of her sparks to catch in the tinder. She blew on it, carefully, not even bothering to wave off the insects that gathered around her scuffling form. She knew, full well, how important it was to act fast with these things. If it were to go out, there would be no telling how long it would take for another chance of ignition to come along.
Thankfully, the worst possibility didn't befall us, that day, as the woods lit up in the characteristic fwoosh of a freshly fired torch. The flora of The Stalks seemed to almost shrink away from the light—as if it knew the source was unnatural, and as such were no longer welcomed, here.
Immediately, a loud whooping could be heard from high in the canopy overhead, as the fauna vocally expressed its disapproval, in a way that the plants could not. "Eep!" Fimbs cringed, nearly dropping the torch, in her surprise. "W-w-what was that?"
"It's okay," I assured her. "That was just the call of a howler; a small primate that lives in the trees. They hardly ever come down to the ground, so you have nothing to worry about." But, no sooner had I said it, before a powerful, terrestrial screeching noise exploded from some distance in the western breadth of the forest. It sounded big, it sounded angry, and it sounded like it was headed for us.
"Scatter!" I shouted, knowing full well that the animals in The Sunset weren't something that our little troupe was capable of handling, in our standing. Janny dove toward a tree, and scrambled up its side, as I grabbed Fimbs' hand, and lead her to a section, a few feet away; before forcing her up onto the bough of a thick frost elm. After signaling to her to lie low, and stay quiet, with a finger to my lips, and a whisper, I gave her my fork, and grabbed the torch—making sure to hold the roiling flame aloft—and started scampering back toward where Janny was already positioned, high in the understory.
Like a well-oiled machine, we worked with the soundless understanding of our various roles in the troupe. Fimbs was the lookout, Janius was the vanguard, and I... well, I was the bait. I ran as noisily as I could through the shrub layer, waving the torch back, and forth, just like we had been taught to do; just in case we ever found ourselves, unwilling, in the midst of predacious woods. Here, we turned that survival training on its head, into a feeble shadow of a hope of a sliver of a chance of offensive tact.
The ground shuddered in equal parts menace, and satiation, as the beast unseen continued its ceaseless charge directly for the bunch of us. As if egging it on, the ferns parted to reveal the sleek, irascible head of the Whistling Caiman. With the head of a crocodile, and the legs of an elephant, it strutted into view with a distinctive display of its feathery crest. Viewing me for the first time, at a distance of 30 yards, it reared back on its rear legs and fluttered its dorsal feathers as a show of territorial dominance.
'Oh, Great Blue help us...!' I thought, as I recalled exactly how a Whistling Caiman devoured its prey by the feet first to ensure the most amount of stress in their meat. Fear was almost like an aphrodisiac to this species.
It throttled its head back and forth, as if to gloat in the surety of its imminent conquest, as it less crawled, or slithered, than bulldozed its way through the slippery earth between us. I waved the torch fruitlessly, and backed away as slowly as I could, to ensure that its path was as straight as possible, and it spread its jaws eagerly, to get a gleeful bite of its helpless prey. Then, at the last possible second, I dove out of the way, allowing it to smash its long, unwieldy snout into the broad side of the tree that it couldn't see; blinded by the light.
This fearsome creature, so used to either the mass to demolish any plant in its path, or the agility to easily dodge the impeding figment, had no internal defense to counter such a head-on collision; and its eyes adapted for the scant illumination of the forest floor were unable to separate the fore from the aft, enough to realize my insipid counter.
It stumbled backward, dazed, and a little disbelieving itself of any such injury, until seconds before its eyes refocused onto its target, a secondary figure leapt from the height of the under canopy; where with an indignant whoop, Janny plunged a handheld stake up to the hilt, directly into the space between the reptile's eyes.
The caiman, in denial of its defeat, uttered one last, final, blood curdling screech, and tossed him mightily into the air; sending my friend crashing into the tree to its left, before clasping its jaws around his leg with an audible snap. Janius howled in pain, and I rushed over to aid him, but before anything else could occur, the beast fell to the ground, its eyes completely inert.
It was already dead.