Following two hunters is a lot harder than it looks.

  Watching from where I’m hidden behind several trees, I let a few tentacles slip out. After a moment, they send the all-clear through the bond.

  Wordlessly, I dart to the next tree and duck behind it.

  The hunters occasionally glance behind them, but otherwise, they just yawn or scratch their backs.

  Behind a different tree now, I feel my eye twitch.

  …Ugh. At this point, I don’t even care if they’re up to something suspicious. Their lack of discipline is driving me up the walls.

  While crouched behind the trunk, trying to resist the urge to chuck a rock at one of them for scratching their butt again, I catch sight of movement farther ahead.

  A shadowy figure in a top hat approaches the hunters, who carry a basket between them filled to the brim with parts from the corpse tree.

  Through the bond, I feel the tentacles suddenly go eerily silent.

  … I know that guy… wasn’t he the weirdo I saw back in that field?

  Even in the silence, there’s still a hint of horror mixed with dread beneath it.

  From where I’m standing, their voices are too quiet to make out clearly. What little I catch are words like: core, asura organ, fresh, lab, and quota.

  Slowly narrowing my eyes, I frown, a pit forming in my stomach.

  Before I can debate what to do next, the shadowy figure suddenly lunges forward and takes the basket.

  Several tentacles sprout from their back and swallow it completely. Blinking, I feel my mouth slowly drop open.

  … Did that thing just swallow the whole basket? How—

  Through the bond, a series of warnings suddenly burst from the tentacles.

  Before I can understand what’s happening, several of my tentacles stab themselves into the ground and take off.

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  Everything comes and goes in a blur as I’m dragged along. Things grow smaller and smaller.

  “Hey!” I yell. “What are you—”

  Quickly dodging a tree branch, I dig my heels into the ground.

  The tentacles don’t slow down the slightest, sprinting blindly ahead.

  By the time I manage to get the tentacles back under control, several hours have passed.

  Slowly dragging myself back to where the two hunters and the man in the top hat had been, I find the place empty.

  Looking around, I slowly bring up a hand and pinch the bridge of my nose.

  …Great. This is just great.

  Feeling the tentacles shift along my back, I turn my attention toward them.

  They respond with several pulses through the bond— the equivalent of playing innocent.

  Squinting, I sigh and turn away from them with a shake of my head.

  …As annoying as it was to be dragged off like that, it’s even weirder that something spooked them badly enough to bolt.

  Narrowing my eyes, I begin to wander, my feet moving without input from my brain.

  In the back of my mind, something tugs at me—subtle but almost addictively persistent.

  Inexplicably, my feet keep moving on their own, turning and climbing until I reach a cave beside several of those same trees I’d seen earlier.

  Standing at the cave’s mouth, I catch the stink of fresh blood wafting out.

  Squinting briefly, I glance down. Near my feet, I see drag marks in the muddy floor—like something heavy had been hauled through here.

  Between the tracks, there are tiny flakes of what looks like skin.

  Suddenly, a few of the tentacles perk up. Some start nudging me forward, while others grab my hand and tug it gently to the right.

  Relenting, I gingerly step in their direction, careful not to disturb the marks on the ground.

  Farther ahead, I spot more flakes—smooth, soft, and disturbingly similar to the surface of my own tentacles.

  Several tentacles reach toward the pieces. After a moment of hesitant twitching, one curls its tip around a fragment.

  A small pulse of horror begins to radiate from the bond as the tentacle slowly turns it over.

  Crossing my arms, I glance toward the cavern’s mouth with a deepening frown.

  The smell of blood is stronger now—so thick that just standing here for a few minutes is enough to make my head spin.

  Staring at the cavern, I slowly furrow my brows. After a moment of hesitation, I inch my way toward the entrance and peer inside.

  Through the dimness, I can just barely make out what looks like several full bags, haphazardly stacked on top of one another.

  As I squint deeper into the dark, a few of my tentacles suddenly perk up. Several of them shoot forward, wrapping themselves around one of the bags.

  Carefully, they haul it over without letting it drag against the ground.

  Once it’s clear of the entrance, they place it beside me—well away from the track leading into the cavern.

  I watch as a few trembling tentacles reach toward where the bag is tied shut.

  Raising one eyebrow, I send a questioning pulse through the bond.

  They ignore me.

  The tentacles steady themselves and yank the bag open.

  The moment the top loosens, a foul stench slams into my nose, making my head spin.

  Through the bond, horror pulses from them.

  Before I can say a word, several tentacles tear the bag wider, revealing a severed head staring back at me with lifeless eyes.