The forest stretched out endlessly around them, an infinite sea of tall trees with thick leafing that admitted only the slimmest rays of golden light. The air was cool, full of the scent of wet earth and leaves. Birds sang from concealed branches, and soft rustlings told of animals making their way through the underbrush.
Zero walked quietly, his feet silent on the mossy ground. He stayed at the back of the group, watching, listening. He didn't know these people, didn't know himself. But something within him told him that wariness was the best approach. The wolf pup from the cave—whom he had afterward named Ash—walked along beside him, sniffing the air now and then or gazing up at him with wary eyes.
The rebels moved with a precision that suggested they were used to this kind of travel. Sienna, who led them, walked with a purpose, her sword clinking softly at her side. Garrick, the massive spearman, was constantly looking into the woods as if expecting an assault at any moment. The older man, Holt, was slightly more relaxed but still on guard. Lyra the archer moved with a grace that spoke of being comfortable in the wilderness, her piercing green eyes constantly scanning ahead.
Later, Holt glanced at Zero's arm—the one with that strange black substance. The older man had been gazing at it since they left the cave, and now he spoke up at last.
"Kid, your arm there… What's happening to it?"
Zero looked down at it. The black goo-like material clung to his skin, shifting a little as if it were alive. He wiggled his fingers. It felt… normal. Usable. But he had no idea what it was or why it was there.
"I don't know," Zero admitted.
Garrick frowned. "It doesn't appear to be natural."
"That's an understatement," Lyra muttered. "You're saying you don't remember how you got it?"
Zero shook his head. "Nothing."
Sienna looked at him for a long time, then nodded. "We'll deal with it later. Right now, we focus on making camp."
The conversation ended, but the unease lingered.
They moved on, the trees parting at last as they entered a small clearing. Hidden amongst the trees was a rebel camp—nothing but a collection of tents and crude wooden structures, but well-hidden. A few of the rebels were stationed at the entrance, armed with swords, bows, and spears. As they watched Sienna's group approach, they visibly relaxed.
As they entered the camp, a few rebels gave Zero curious glances. He wasn't surprised—he must have looked out of place. Dirty, wearing shredded clothes, with an arm wrapped in strange black goo.
They stopped near a fire pit where another group of rebels was seated. A tall man with dark brown hair and a missing ear stood and greeted Sienna.
"You're back. No trouble?"
"Nothing," Sienna said. "We did stumble upon something unexpected, however." She nodded towards Zero.
The man with one ear lifted an eyebrow. "Another stray?"
"Sort of."
Zero said nothing, sensing their gaze on him. He didn't tense, however. Something informed him that he'd been in this kind of situation before—perhaps not with these particular individuals, but under the same kind of scrutiny.
For the time being, we consider tomorrow," Sienna continued. "The next batch of otherworlders comes along soon enough, and we need to be ready.".
When the rebels started talking about what they were going to do, Zero paid close attention. They talked about the government's standard operating procedure for dealing with otherworlders—quarantining them, evaluating their abilities, and determining their fates. Most were conscripted into military service or exploited for other political agendas. The rebels, though, aimed to liberate them before any of that could take place.
It was daunting. Zero wasn't certain where he belonged in any of this yet, but one thing was for sure: this world was lethal. And for now, the rebels were his best hope for remaining alive.