The fungal layer lifted.
So did I.
A narrow strip rose beneath the middle of my foot. It was darker than the pale caps and thinner than the seam around it, flexible enough to bend while remaining attached near my left side.
My shell shifted backward.
I spread my foot across the rising surface and pressed down before the weight could pull me over.
The strip kept rising.
Its free end curved toward a patch of pale growth beside the seam.
Closer.
Closer.
The tip touched.
Blue light crossed the contact.
Not beneath it.
Across it.
A thin line entered the neighboring patch and divided through several pale branches. Three caps folded in sequence.
The lifted strip relaxed.
Its tip fell away.
The blue line stopped at the gap.
I slid down with it and caught the edge of the dark seam before my shell could roll.
For several seconds, I did nothing.
Survival first.
Science immediately after.
The strip lay beside me again, attached at one end and separated from the neighboring growth by less than my body length.
A temporary bridge.
Maybe any biological material could carry the reaction if it connected two living sections.
That would make the field less like one surface and more like pieces that could borrow contact.
I disliked how useful that sounded.
Behind me, the feeder bit into something.
The vibration reached the seam.
The strip twitched.
I placed the side of my shell against it and leaned.
My shell moved more easily than the strip.
I adjusted, pressing with the front edge of my foot while keeping most of my body on a dead gray patch.
The strip bent upward.
Its tip touched the neighboring growth.
Blue light crossed again.
I released pressure.
The tip separated.
The light stopped.
Repeatable.
Probably.
My left lower tentacle remained numb, so I used the right to drag a thin fragment of dead gray fungus into the gap.
The fragment touched both sides.
I waited for the next pulse.
Blue light entered the attached strip.
It reached the dead fragment.
Stopped.
Nothing crossed into the neighboring patch.
So much for any biological bridge.
Dead tissue could touch both surfaces without visibly carrying the response.
I pulled the fragment free, turned it sideways, and used it as a pushing tool.
The dead piece bent the living strip upward.
The attached tip touched the other patch.
Light crossed.
The dead material had moved the connection.
It had not become part of it.
Better theory.
The strip needed to remain alive or active enough to transmit whatever I was seeing. Direct contact mattered. Attachment to its original tissue might matter too.
That was as far as the evidence went.
The feeder's bites became louder.
I checked the marker.
[Distance: 3.94 meters]
Still there.
The System had watched the floor lift me and remained professionally uninterested.
Another pulse reached the branch.
I wedged the dead fragment beneath it until the living tip rested against the neighboring patch.
Then I released pressure and retreated fully onto the dead gray growth.
The contact held.
The feeder entered view through the low arches behind me.
Its movements remained uneven from the spores, but it continued along living growth. Mouthparts opened. Hooks tapped. Its head reached the junction where the original route met the attached branch.
It paused.
The front hooks searched across the surface.
Then the mouthparts found the branch.
Bite.
Pull.
The feeder continued along the attached tissue.
It reached the lifted tip.
Crossed the contact.
Then bit into the pale growth on the other side.
I held still.
The feeder had followed this connection.
This one.
For reasons I still could not identify.
Chemical continuity. Moisture. Vibration. Mana. Something else.
A cap beside its head folded hard.
The edge struck the flexible branch.
The tip slipped away from the neighboring patch.
The blue line broke.
The feeder stopped.
Its hooks tapped across the gap. Its mouthparts opened against empty stone, then shifted back toward living tissue.
Separation ended the visible transfer.
It also interrupted the feeder.
Useful.
Temporary.
The feeder began searching for another continuation.
I had a procedure.
A terrible procedure.
Still better than improvising every centimetre.
Wait for the feeder to disturb the field.
Watch which caps closed first.
Cross while they recovered.
Rest on dead or damaged growth.
Drink when the stone offered water.
Avoid the dark seam whenever possible.
Repeat until dead or successful.
The ordering could use work.
The flexible branch still lay beside me.
I pulled the dead fragment from beneath it, shifted the tip toward a different patch on the right, and wedged it there again.
The branch resisted.
My right lower tentacle slipped twice.
On the third attempt, I pressed the fragment with the side of my shell.
The living tip touched.
A feeder-generated pulse entered the branch from behind.
Blue light crossed into the right-hand patch.
Five caps folded there.
Then seven.
The section to my left remained open.
I moved.
Not because I controlled the field.
I had bent one attached piece of living tissue and changed where one visible pulse travelled.
The distinction mattered.
Mostly to my ego.
One contraction carried me from the dead patch.
Two more pulled my shell over a crushed cap.
The surface tightened beneath me, but the nearest caps were still recovering from the larger disturbance.
My mucus formed in broken lines.
The rear of my foot dragged.
A crushed band continued ahead. I followed it through dozens of slow contractions, stopping whenever the surrounding caps tightened.
By the time the tissue behind me began reopening, I reached a torn gray plate and flattened myself over it.
First cycle.
A thin water film ran along the stone beside the plate.
I lowered my mouth into it and drank while moisture spread against the edge of my foot.
Not enough.
Better than dry.
My left tentacle remained numb. The right shook whenever I extended it too far.
I checked the distance.
[Distance: 3.69 meters]
Twenty-five centimetres.
It had taken long enough for the feeder to find the branch's original base.
Bite.
The branch jerked behind me.
Bite.
The section I had used as a bridge disappeared into its mouth.
My temporary route manipulation ended with chewing.
I had bought time.
The feeder had bought lunch.
Fair exchange.
The second section was worse.
Dense caps crowded the direct path. A damaged route curved away from the marker.
I waited.
The feeder's hooks struck living tissue behind me.
A pulse spread through the field.
Caps along the damaged curve folded first.
The direct section remained open for half a second longer.
I went straight.
The first contraction worked.
The second sent pain through the irritated edge of my foot.
The third produced almost no mucus.
I forced another.
My shell dragged against a pale cap.
It began folding.
I reached a dead strip before it closed around the rear of my foot, then followed the strip until it narrowed into living tissue again.
Second cycle.
I lay still until the pain became separate points instead of one continuous line.
[Distance: 3.43 meters]
[Health Points: 1/1]
[Mana Points: 30/30]
Pain.
Numbness.
Exhaustion.
Dehydration.
Bad mucus.
No registered damage.
No mana use.
Five separate problems sharing one body.
Efficient.
The next part became repetition.
Wait.
Watch.
Move.
Rest.
Drink when water appeared.
Avoid dark tissue until the pale growth forced me back onto it.
Each cycle lasted longer. Each rest restored less.
...
[Distance: 2.58 meters]
...
[Distance: 1.91 meters]
...
[Distance: 1.26 meters]
Each number cost more.
My left lower tentacle recovered enough to feel pressure, then went numb again after another dark crossing. The numbness spread briefly into the front edge of my foot.
My right tentacle stopped reaching its full length.
The skin beneath my shell felt tight from lost moisture.
Thin films of water helped, but every crossing consumed more than the last restored.
The feeder remained behind me.
Sometimes close.
Sometimes hidden by folded caps.
Never aimed at me.
Always eating whatever living path continued under its mouthparts.
That fact remained comforting only when it was far away.
I had wanted evidence that I was not alone.
A mind nearby had sounded better than endless silence.
Now I had evidence that physical contact could carry reactions, and that another organism could follow those contacts from one patch to the next.
Connection allowed information.
It also allowed access.
Loneliness had neglected to mention that part.
I kept moving.
Practicality remained an excellent treatment for philosophy.
The mound filled more of my vision with every contraction. Its outer layers overlapped like thick plates, dark at the edges and pale where moisture collected between them.
Blue lines disappeared underneath.
The marker hovered ahead.
Not above open stone.
Not beside the mound.
I reached a damaged ridge and checked the distance.
[Location: Fungal Cavern]
[Distance: 0.84 meters]
Below one.
My foot trembled beneath me.
Behind, the feeder tore through another connected section.
Ahead, the marker remained fixed inside the outline of the mound.
I shifted left.
The marker shifted with my view but stayed behind the outer fungal plates.
I shifted right.
Same result.
The sign-in location was not waiting beside the mound.
It was beneath its outer layers.
The nearest plate moved.