The forest did not greet him.
It did not roar, or snap, or announce its presence with violence.
It simply existed.
Pluto stood where his apartment had dissolved, the mist settling slowly around him as though adjusting to his shape. The air was damp and cool, but not unpleasantly so. It smelled of wet bark, earth that had not seen sunlight in years, and something faint beneath it — metallic, like blood washed clean by rain.
The trees were tall, impossibly tall. Their trunks were not uniform; some twisted slightly, spiraling toward the canopy as though they had grown under pressure. Others leaned at unnatural angles, roots exposed like grasping fingers before sinking back into soil that looked too dark to be ordinary dirt.
He blinked slowly.
The light here was strange. It filtered down in thin, fractured beams that never fully illuminated the ground. The mist absorbed brightness greedily, swallowing definition. Even the air seemed textured, almost visible when he focused on it long enough.
Nothing moved.
And yet something watched.
The snake tattoo rested against his forearm, fully formed now. The ink was darker than before, almost glossy. Its scales carried depth, like tiny overlapping plates rather than flat lines. When he flexed his wrist, the coils adjusted minutely, settling as though finding balance.
He swallowed.
It didn't feel foreign.
It felt… present.
Pluto lifted his arm slightly, turning it toward the filtered light. The snake's head curved along his wrist bone, its mouth closed, its eyes detailed down to the smallest slit of darkness. It did not twitch. It did not speak. It simply existed there, as much a part of him as breath.
A breeze moved through the trees.
Except it wasn't a breeze. Not entirely.
The mist shifted with intention. It curled around trunks, dipped low along the forest floor, then rose slightly, as though flowing around obstacles too subtle to see.
The movement was slow, patient.
Observant.
He took a careful step forward.
The forest floor was soft but stable. Moss layered the ground in thick patches, interrupted by root systems that coiled just beneath the surface. When his shoe pressed down, the earth seemed to give more than expected, then firm again.
The silence deepened.
Pluto walked.
He didn't know what direction he was moving in. There was no sun to orient by, no landmarks distinct enough to remember. Every tree seemed similar at first glance, but when he looked longer, subtle differences revealed themselves: scars along bark, patches of darker moss, slight bends in structure.
He tried to memorize them anyway.
Ten steps.
Fifteen.
Twenty.
The air shifted in temperature.
Not dramatically. Just subtly enough to register.
His breath slowed. His gaze sharpened.
He didn't know why the shift mattered — only that it did.
The snake along his arm tightened imperceptibly, its body pressing closer to his skin. Not constricting. Anchoring.
He turned slightly left without consciously deciding to.
Walked forward again.
A faint rustle echoed somewhere in the distance.
He froze.
It wasn't close.
It wasn't far.
It sounded heavy, but uneven. Like something crashing through foliage without understanding how.
Another rustle.
Then another.
And then—
Footsteps.
Rapid.
Panicked.
They cut through the forest like a blade.
Pluto's head turned sharply toward the sound.
A figure burst through the mist between trees — a girl, maybe seventeen, maybe younger. Her hair was tangled against her face, breaths coming in sharp, desperate pulls. Her clothes were torn at the sleeve, streaked faintly with dirt and something darker.
She didn't see him at first.
She was focused behind her.
"Run!" she shouted the moment her eyes locked onto his. Her voice cracked with urgency.
He didn't hesitate.
There wasn't time.
Behind her, the forest moved.
Not like wind.
Not like branches.
It moved in sections.
Trunks bent slightly, roots sliding against soil. Leaves shivered without breeze. The rustling intensified, low and dense, layered like something large displacing vegetation simply by existing near it.
The girl reached him, grabbing his wrist without breaking stride. Her hand was cold.
"It's coming," she breathed.
He didn't ask what.
He ran.
The forest swallowed their footsteps immediately.
Branches scraped at his jacket. Roots shifted underfoot. The mist thickened as though reacting to their movement, trailing behind them in soft waves.
Behind them, something crashed — not fast, but relentless. Slow impact. Heavy displacement.
Pluto's chest tightened.
They darted between two trees that leaned too closely together. The girl pulled him right, then forward, then sharply left again. It felt random.
It wasn't.
The forest ahead of them shifted faintly — a root rising slightly higher than before, a patch of ground dipping lower.
He felt it before he saw it.
A subtle tug along his arm.
The snake's coils adjusted.
He veered right abruptly.
"Where are you going?!" the girl hissed.
"Trust me," he replied, though he had no idea why he had chosen that direction.
It simply felt clearer.
Less wrong.
Behind them, the crashing grew louder. A low, grinding sound followed, as though bark scraping against bark.
They leapt over a fallen trunk. It wasn't there a moment ago — he was almost certain of it.
The mist curled around their knees now, thick and rolling.
He took another sharp turn.
Not thinking.
Just moving.
The snake's body pressed firmly along his forearm again, its head angled slightly forward, almost as if tasting the air.
The temperature shifted — warmer ahead, cooler to the left.
He angled toward the cooler air.
The ground there was firmer.
He didn't know how he knew that until his foot landed and held steady.
Behind them, the crashing paused.
Not stopped.
Paused.
Silence fell like a held breath.
They slowed instinctively.
Too soon.
A tree several yards behind them bent sideways.
Not snapped.
Bent.
Its trunk rippled unnaturally, bark splitting along invisible seams.
Pluto saw it clearly now.
Vines threaded through the trunk, thick as ropes. They bulged beneath bark, sliding through the wood like muscle under skin.
The tree wasn't a tree.
It was something wearing one.
It lunged forward without moving its base.
Vines whipped outward.
Pluto grabbed the girl's arm and pulled her down. A thick coil sliced through air where her head had been.
They rolled.
The forest floor dipped unexpectedly. They tumbled down a shallow incline that hadn't been visible through the mist.
He barely registered how fortunate that dip was.
They hit a lower clearing — sparse roots, thinner mist.
The crashing resumed above them.
The thing did not follow down the incline.
It stopped at the ridge.
Vines writhed along its surface, searching, tasting.
Then slowly, unnervingly, the trunk straightened again.
Still.
Silent.
Watching.
Pluto and the girl remained on the forest floor, breathing hard.
He didn't speak.
She didn't either.
After a long moment, the sounds above them diminished. The rustling receded, heavy movement fading into distance.
Only when silence settled completely did he sit up.
The girl pushed herself to her feet first, brushing dirt from her knees.
"What was that?" she whispered.
He looked toward the ridge.
The mist had already thickened there again, blurring details.
"It's part of this place," he said quietly.
She studied him.
"You're not from here either."
It wasn't a question.
"No."
"How long?" she asked.
"Not long."
She nodded as though that answer was enough.
He became aware of something again — not a sound, not a sight.
A shift.
The forest's temperature changed slightly. Cooler behind them now. Warmer further ahead.
The snake along his arm loosened slightly, its head angled in the direction opposite the ridge.
Forward.
He stood slowly.
"We shouldn't stay," he said.
"You know where to go?" she asked.
He hesitated.
"No."
But his body turned anyway.
He began walking.
She followed.
Neither of them noticed the way the path ahead seemed subtly less obstructed. The roots there did not rise as high. The mist parted more easily, thinning just enough to reveal firmer footing.
They moved deeper.
Not because they chose a direction.
But because something quiet and coiled along his arm preferred it.
The forest shifted faintly behind them.
And somewhere far away, something counted.