I kneel down, inspecting the corpse of an Aichoura. The venomous thorns on its tail don’t manage to pierce my glove thankfully. The body’s still cold, but room temperature cold -- I suppose that’s to be expected when it’s a jungle, but it just means that there weren’t unnatural elements at play. I gently pry open its canines to smell the stench emanating from its mouth. Wafting the scent into my nose, I recognize the scent of rotting organs -- the poor specimen has been dead for at least a few hours. However, there’s no scent of burnt flesh, eliminating caustic and most hyperthermic means of death. The graveyard of gray squirrel-like creatures in front of me still was unnerving; all of them remain in a small pool of their own blood, excluding the one I had picked up from the ground of course. Why do these Aichouras resemble squirrels anyhow? They even share some of the same DNA too, oddly enough, suggesting they can crossbreed. ... I don’t think I want to imagine that, actually. I don’t want to walk outside and suddenly be bit by a new breed of rodent.

  Wait, what’s this pink strip of flesh? A part of this creature’s white fur is pink, a thin stripe along its stomach. Aichouras don’t attract mates through markings on their chest. What is this doing here? I poke at it, its chest squishing on touch. Oh, that’s interesting -- it seems like whatever hurt it also broke its ribs. My finger pokes again. I’m met with a simple squelch. Moments later, intestines gush out, splattering on my jeans.

  “EUGH!” I scream, throwing the Aichoura into a tree. It splats on the ground, much like the entrails I swipe off. “You-” I stutter, “You ruined one research drone and several pairs of jeans already! I didn’t need you to stain this one!”

  “Is everything ok, Ms. Lova?” a handsome voice calls out from the woods.

  I cough before responding, “Of course. It just stained another perfectly good pair of jeans. It’s enough that my jacket is stained with blood, wouldn’t you agree Kale?”

  I’m met with a hearty laugh, so adorable from a white man in his thirties. He’s so sexy with that beard, chiseled jawline, and-

  ZABRINA LOVA, STOP BEING HORNY ON THE JOB. Allah Almighty, you’re a researcher, act like it. Don’t be the reason a colleague calls HR. Also, he’s ten years older than you, at least. He’s simp-worthy, not jail-worthy.

  “It certainly is a bother. You’ve got bleach at home, right?”

  “Barely helps most of the time,” I grumble.

  “Not standard house bleach, the hardcore stuff that’s being sold nowadays. They might be what you need -- we use it all the time for cleaning our gear.”

  I sigh. “Still too expensive. There’s a reason only Hunters can afford them.”

  “Though that aside...” he whistles at the corpses strewn about the floor. “You didn’t organize them, did you?”

  Now that he points it out, they’re organized in a grid structure, each with roughly similar wounds on their chests. “No,” I answer. “Think it’s some pack predator?”

  “None of the birds here are cooperative," he argues. “Pack animals are practically unheard of in the High Forests, it’s rare enough for the little rodents to be here in the first place. Still, it’s a bit concerning that these things are dying in such large numbers.”

  “Yes, I’d imagine an invasive species would pose less challenge to such a place. Doesn’t help that nothing has claws here either.” I continue to ponder, speaking my thoughts aloud. “Well, everything here has the same slit. There’s no damage to the environment either, being oddly clean. I can’t even smell cut grass or bark here. So, animals being unlikely, there are the Hunters and Looters.

  “Yet, Hunters tend to have more flashy weaponry since they’re better for dealing with the larger threats, not something akin to a rat infestation. That just leaves Looters and their traps. The snares they use could have thin wires small enough to slit their stomachs. So far, it’s the most plausible theory.”

  “‘Cept that we didn’t encounter anything like that,” Kale adds. “If they’re here, then they’re pretty well hidden and you got lucky for not cutting your hand once.”

  Tch. “It doesn’t help that these things are also poisonous too, so harvesting their organs wouldn’t be useful either.”

  “...Didn’t the last guy who attempted to eat a stomach nearly die on national television?”

  “His fault he can’t stomach something new.” Wait...

  “Did you-”

  “We do not talk about this,” I groan, smacking my head. I hate making Dad puns -- what am I, Abbu with his dumb humor? “Also, stomachs can be quite good when fried!”

  “Uh huh...” I can hear the disdain in his voice; typical Americans, unwilling to try anything new. “Though surely someone killed them, right?”

  “I mean, the only other possibility is a new species of creature that has currently gone unnoticed by all organizations and solely hunts small prey or is in an evolutionary arms race akin to the garter snake and rough-skin newt.”

  Kale lightly chuckles as he adds, “I’ll pretend I know what that is.”

  “Thing that can process strong poisons versus thing with one of the strongest poisons imaginable.”

  “Ah.” He just scratches the back of his head as he adorably adds, “Well, we’ll find the answer someday.”

  I giggle as I add, “Oh, we should.” If it’s the latter, then that’d mean I finally a topic I can submit for research. My agency keeps begging me to find something, and I’d have something earlier if they didn’t keep rejecting all of my proposals! Seriously, what was wrong with examining the trees and how they grow? Because it’s not clickbaity enough!? Because Hunters don’t get new information on how to kill these things?!

  I get tapped on my shoulder by a soft hand bruised by conflict. I feel myself shudder, moreso when I hear his voice; “You’re ok, right?”

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  “Yes,” I answer firmly, refusing to betray my feelings. “Just brooding over modern reality and the effects of capitalism.”

  He raises his Alpha laser rifle, reminding me of the Yotta pistol by my side. It’s a cobalt blue pistol I bought a year ago for self defense -- it’s weak and low power, but I only need to scare off critters; not harm them. Besides, we’re still in Mother Nature’s land; it’s not right to take what we don’t need.

  “I’ll just stay here for a bit longer,” I sigh, looking up at the beautiful canopy. Light shines through its rich green leaves and onto my maple brown hand, odd patterns forming atop it. “It’s a shame some people don’t know how to appreciate nature, you know?”

  “Mhm.” Footsteps trail off into the wild, leaving me alone. I close my eyes and tune out all visual senses in trade for auditory. The birds continue to chirp, loud caws heard far above us that act as a reminder that no matter how much we build, no matter how far we climb, there will always be something taller and grander than us. We can always invent ways to kill something, but why bother? Isn’t it just better to let things exist and thrive rather than to take away from the beauty of this world?

  To prove my point, an audible purr comes from right in front of me. Reminded of the dog my neighbors had once, I open my eyes, clapping together and cooing as a black furred creature twice as tall and four times as long appears right before me. Without a second thought, I rush forward and pet it, the friend seeming to enjoy the rubs. Tickles along its belly elicits a soft cry as it rolls over. Unable to do anything else, I rub alongside and laugh along. My own loose pitch-black hair (well, dark brown if we’re being technical, but come on!) gets tangled in this cute pet’s. The only one that doesn’t is the stupid ahoge I’ve never been able to lose since my birth. It’s a shame this thing has already been documented; it’s akin to the Canidae family where half of its body consists of a jaw, relying on other senses to make up for its poor eyesight. It helps that these things are herbivores that respond well to physical affection.

  “THERE IT IS!” I hear from the woods. We both perk our heads up, only to duck as scorching lasers soar above and burn the trees around us.

  “DON’T SHOOT!” I yell out, waving my hands.

  Yet, my pleas are met with more supporting fire and the callout of “THERE’S A MIMIC TOO!” Are you kidding me?!

  “Well let’s get out of here boy,” I comment, starting to make a run for it. Yet, nothing seems to be trailing me. I turn, only seeing the creature’s fur glow red. Since when could they do that?

  Its mouth opens as it lets out a piercing well, embers sprouting from its fur and soaring through the sky. I gaze on for a second, narrowly dodging a flame as they rain back down and set the whole thing ablaze. Ok, now I know they can’t do that.

  “Buddy?” I ask. My sneakers crunch against the burning leaves as I cover my mouth with smoke. “I know you’re scared, but we need to leave.” I put my hand on its fur and rummage my hand through; it turns, gripping me with my hand and throwing me onto its back. We start running away from the fire and the voices, minutes passing as the fires fade from view and the roaring flames are replaced with soft smelling flowers. “Thanks,” I murmur.

  I jump off, knees buckling at the landing. I give a bow that is oddly returned by a head motion downwards. I start humming as I make my way back. It’s a beautiful day outside really. I look down at the flowers, reminiscent of white lilies from Earth.

  How odd, there’s a red stripe now, the scent of iron invading the nose.

  Why can’t I move?

  What is this feeling tight within my chest?

  I can see something, I just need to look down.

  There’s a tendril protruding through my shirt. My purple jacket is stained with blood. My blood.

  Growling sounds behind me, head swivelling with response -- it’s the same creature, inky tentacles starting to grow from its sides. One of which has now gone through me. I’m but a tender piece of meat on a kabob.

  “Buddy?” I ask. I step backwards yet trip from the limb that now bound us together. “You don’t have to do this,” I plead. I look into the teeth in its maw, only met by my own fearful brown eyes.

  It doesn’t hear me anways. It screeches as more limbs go into the air. My own body is raised as a ragdoll would be. Blood again flies through the air -- my blood as my own heart is torn apart.

  My throat screams, head lurching up towards the bright sun that blinds me. More tendrils continue to tear apart my shirt, left as torn fabric fit for a soldier fallen during duty. My jacket floats off into the wind and leaves me much like how I caused this.

  I’m all alone, aren’t I? It’s all my fault.

  It’s because of me that I have a hole in my chest. If I’m lucky, I could survive for 20 more minutes before someone manages to find me. Could someone find me? Will they be able to revive me or decide that I’m not worth saving?

  Leaves rustle, tendrils again shifting. Having nothing to do, my eyes catch the creature forming an open cocoon. What is it doing? Why is it placing its mouth above the hole?

  Gurgles start, followed by a liquid gushing from its mouth to the leaves. My own body is suspended near the solution, a bitter acrid scent drifting to my nose.

  It’s acid.

  I’m about to be plunged into acid.

  Acid is going to eat away at my body.

  I thrash, limbs flailing as I try to get off. Yet, with one motion, I’m pushed off the skewer and into the solution. Pain courses through my body, but I don’t give up. I swim to the top and burst, gasping for what little breath I need as the sun still remains in view. The sun shines down and I reach for it.

  Except, there was no hope; the cocoon is sealed, leaving me in only darkness.

  “HELP!” I scream, pounding against the leaf wall with my fist. “HELP! Please,” I sob, the liquid starting to rise. “Come back boy,” I call out.

  The leaves refuse to budge as I keep kicking. My ankle gets caught and I twist, giving a snap -- but no light. Just pain that I’m too tired to scream at.

  I sniffle, my neck sloped against the leaves. I feel my legs burn, the liquid hissing and bubbling at the top. Allah, it hurts. I-I’m becoming something, right? Just think Zabrina, think.

  I’m in this cocoon, and I’m about to become food, right? Animals sometimes store their prey in some storage, breaking apart the complex molecules into simple ones as a source of energy. So it’s worse -- no one’s going to discover my body.

  They won’t find me dead, they’ll just assume I’m dead. Yet the insurance company won’t see it like that -- until proven otherwise, I’ll be considered alive.

  Did I provide enough for Jona’s tuition? Will he have enough? Ammu, Abbu, you’ll be fine without me, right?

  I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was such a bad daughter, I should have stayed home.

  My eyes close, sniffling, silenced by the sound of acid eating my skin. Is this what hell feels like? Shaytan, was it you who brought me here?

  Allah, save me, please.

  I need to go back to them, they need me.

  Allah, please!

  Please...

  I can’t hold on, it’s rising to my throat.

  I have to keep my head above, I-

  It’s too late.

  My eyes corrode, eliciting sharp screams. They’re promptly silenced by the bitter taste overwhelming my mouth. Instincts kick in, hands clutching at a throat unable to stop the torrent of fluid burning my insides. The last thing I see before my eyes fade is a cauterized ear floating about.

  I’m going to die here. It’s all my fault.

  Jona, be safe for your sister, alright? I love you.

  Allah, please protect them.