The kukuri trader watched–and waited. "I don't feel like we should be going out alone," Polly quietly chirped, a bit anxious about the whole thing. It wasn't just that she was a socialite, it felt wrong to sneak out of camp without telling an adult. The grass here was thick and the ferns were already taller than the whelps, even though they were just outside the edge of camp.

"What's the worst that could happen?" Crushclaw grinned and raised her namesake paw–the largest one. "Well, giant predators, poisonous mushrooms, kidnappings…" Polly counted out as many as she could think of. "That's why, my intrepid little friends, I won't be letting either of you out of my sight," came a deep, studious voice. Both of them groaned at once. "Dorian!"

And yet he was, even against their protests: A shimmering gold kukuri with the face, and pelt of royalty, and just nosy enough to have picked up that the two whelps were escaping out on their own. He wasn't part of the colony, not exactly, but he'd been following them around ever since his cart of wares got rained down a river and he lost his sleeping tent.

"Oh, I won't stop you," he raised his fabulous paws, "But I need to know what's going on. I love a good–you know, plan." Polly's doe-brown eyes and soft beak turned guiltily to Crushclaw, and the belemoid knew she was going to spill the beans. "The fungal forest–" she stared up at the dripping giant mushrooms above their head, just as a drop of waiting rain splashed her forehead. She shivered.

"The one past here, anyways–Is reading crazy toxicity levels on Akira's charts. He can't figure out why." Crushclaw shoved her way in, her red pelt blazing with excitement. "And that's why we're gonna do it!" She proclaimed, giving a sharp-toothed smirk. "Oh my, that is quite dangerous," he considered, "Well, count me in. Just make sure that none of you die or get greviously poisoned, as then I hardly doubt your Captain will let me accompany your camp anymore."

"Like that would ever happen!" Crushclaw gave a snark laugh, "We know what we're doing!" Polly gave an anxious glance back at Dorian that said: We do not. Then she limped, almost awkwardly, into the teal-green ferns and underneath the great jungle's canopy. There were giant predators in L'Hatzif, perhaps moreso than any other region of B'av–other than Rekes, of course–but the two were well-trained by their adults in hiding, and Dorian, on the other hand, well, stuck out like a sore thumb.

But follow one far enough, and you might realize: They were right. ((The small geiger counter that Crushclaw held beeped faster and louder, the deeper that the three trekked. The jungle thickened considerably, to the point where Dorian had to whip out a machete from his waistband just to cut through.

It was like a living, breathing organism, except–very oddly colored. Polly, with the best eyesight due to her evolution as a tarkee, could clearly see that the mushrooms here were… Different. They swirled with hypnotic blues, greens, and even oranges. Even to Crushclaw, who missed out on the sloping stripes of hallucinate colors, the giant fungi appeared to be sickly and spotted.

"You weren't kidding," Dorian bemused. He had to stop himself–quite suddenly, as he nearly plowed right into a buzzing, neon green puddle that opened up inf ront of him. "But why?" One of the whelps breathed, and an eerie wind passed over them–one that sounded like chainlink rattling.)) They weren't alone here–but it wasn't a lifeform that they were dealing with, either.

"N-No way!" Crushclaw blurted, even the usually feisty whelp's eyes widening in horror. There was a zap, and then a loud hissss. The metal box hissed out steam as it rose, compartments unfolding into arms, square-grate eyes, and a series of baubles, buttons, and antenne. If Polly had wings, they'd be clutched so tight against her side that she wouldn't have been able to fly.

"Time to get going, kids!" Dorian blurted. He scooped each into one arm and darted, his long tail waving behind him. The machine–whatever it was–let out a loathsome growl, shaking the earth in its fury. But the kukuri wasn't waiting around to find out what it wanted from the whelps, or the fungal forest.