“They moved like ghosts,” Ferrin said. “Nedwin kept after them.”

The group remained alert as more time passed. No further attacks came, and eventually Nedwin returned. “I glimpsed green figures, apparently clad in ivy. They were too swift. Few can outmaneuver me across difficult terrain, but these folk were my superiors. They fled through the trees like monkeys and across the ground like wildcats. I was fortunate to catch sight of them from a distance. I had no hope of reaching them. I was hit by three darts but can perceive no effects.”

“A dart pricked me on the hand,” Galloran said.

Jason, Corinne, Tark, Io, and Drake had all been hit on their skin. Several of the others had little darts sticking to their clothes. Nobody was feeling adverse reactions.

“What were the darts for?” Jason asked.

Galloran inspected the tiny pinprick on his hand, sniffing it and tapping it. “When last I visited Mianamon, I heard tales of treefolk who dwelled deep in the jungle. I never saw them, nor heard of any this far north. But times change.”

“One of the races of Certius?” Ferrin asked.

“Most likely,” Galloran agreed.

“Would they have used a slow-acting venom?” Ferrin asked.

“I sense no irritation,” Galloran said, perplexed, flexing his hand. “None at all. Why risk drawing near and firing darts? We’ll have to watch these injuries.”

Two days later, the first short tufts of moss appeared around the spots where the darts had pierced skin. The dense green growth looked as though it could be carelessly plucked away, but was actually anchored deeper in the flesh than a first glance could discern. A sharp knife could scrape away some of the moss, but it became apparent that a deep incision would be required to root it out. Of all who had been hit, only Io remained unaffected.

Showing no indication of pain, Nedwin rooted out the tiny patch of moss just above his wrist. By the next day, it had not only grown back, but the greenery had spread. Moss that had been trimmed the day before had also returned and multiplied. The untouched patches had spread as well.

The moss inflicted no pain. When Jason stroked the fuzzy circle on his neck, the moss seemed to belong there as much as the surrounding hairs. But who knew what would happen as it continued to spread? At best, he would become a mossy freak. At worst, the moss would overwhelm his body, causing harm or death.

A couple of days later, Jason watched Nia munching on a large, glossy leaf as she walked. Scarcely a few weeks had passed since meeting her, but as promised, she already looked older. When they had met she had looked thirteen or fourteen. Now she looked sixteen or seventeen. She was a few inches taller, having surpassed both Rachel and Tark.

For the past week, the delegation had mostly eaten unusual fruit and vegetables foraged by Nedwin. But Io and Nia claimed food whenever they wanted it. “This jungle must look like one big salad to you,” Jason said.

“I’m a growing girl,” she replied, taking another bite. “Think I’ll pass you up?”

“I doubt it, since your dad was shorter than me.” He unconsciously rubbed his hand against the lush moss now covering most of the side and back of his neck. It had become a habit.

“How much does the moss bother you?” she asked.

“I kind of like the texture,” he admitted, realizing that he had been stroking it again. “But it’s gross how it keeps spreading. It’s really weird to think of it covering my face.”

“There must be a way to stop it,” Nia said.

Jason shrugged. “Nedwin knows more about these jungles than just about anyone. He has no idea what this moss is or what might cure it. I just hope it doesn’t start controlling us, like the goma worms.”

“What would moss want you to do?” Nia giggled. “Go sit on a rock by a stream?”

“What if I turn into a plant?” Jason asked, trying to keep his voice casual, although he was voicing a deep concern.

“I’ll make sure you get sunlight and water,” Nia said.

Jason tried to smile at the joke.

“It only seems to coat the surface,” Nia pointed out, her tone more consoling.

“After it covers everything, the moss might grow inward.”

“Hopefully, we can get help at the temple,” Drake said from behind. A dart had hit the side of his jaw, and the resultant greenery had spread into half a mossy beard. “The oracle and her people have dwelled in the jungle for a long time.”

They continued in silence for some time.

“Too bad Io couldn’t grow any moss,” Nia said. “He’d have a portable snack.”

Jason forced a chuckle. She was trying to lighten the mood. The effort made him think of her adaptability. She no longer had an accent, and had picked up on the nuances of how he and Rachel spoke and kidded. Under other circumstances, her comments would have amused him more. But the worry of parasitic moss slowly claiming his body was hard to shake. Still, she was trying, so he might as well meet her halfway. “He can always have some of my surplus.”

Nia scrunched her nose. “This jungle gets hot. What if your moss inherits your body odor?”

“You guys eat dead rats,” Jason said.

“We have to draw the line somewhere.”

At the front of the group, Nedwin raised a hand. “Hear that?” he asked.

“What?” Galloran replied.

“A high whine,” Nedwin described. “Perhaps a whistle. Faint. At the edge of hearing.”

Jason heard nothing. But he noticed the vines at his feet had begun to writhe. The entire forest floor came to life at once, inert vines suddenly thrashing like bullwhips. With alarming speed and accuracy, the vines began to curl around legs, arms, and torsos. A strange smell suffused the air, and the ground suddenly seemed to tilt and undulate.

Jason tried to draw his sword, but was too late. He was already on the ground, arms pinioned to his sides. From his position on the ground, Jason watched Galloran, blindfold discarded, slicing vines with his torivorian blade. The vines lashed at him from all directions, but he pivoted and slashed with flawless skill and timing, slowly carving a path away from the road.

Jason felt like the ground was rocking and spinning. Galloran began to stagger drunkenly, not from the onslaught of vines, but apparently in reaction to whatever odor had made Jason unsteady. Finally the tendrils caught hold of Galloran and dragged him down.

Jason struggled against the vines. They tightened painfully as he resisted, then slackened a degree when he relaxed.