XXXI: Exodus

We have left the Forest. Not just Samuel, Harper, and myself, but all of us from the settlement. Those of us with scars from hunters' weapons have healed. I will tell you if any of our scars begin to hurt again, but I do not think they will.

My name is Sasha Ivanov, and I am free.

XXX: Predators and Prey

We came to the settlement that once belonged to Harper.

There were hunters outside, far more than I have ever taken on at once. They were in the process of tearing down the drywall so they could enter the settlement and devour the people inside. I could tell by the moss overgrowing their backs, the mud caking their hair, and the ferocity with which they used makeshift axes to destroy the settlement walls that they were no longer human.

I turned to Harper and Samuel. Harper told us to leave, but neither of us did so. I told her that we would not abandon her. Samuel drew his pocket knife, while I took out a dagger Harper had made for me from stone and rope. She sighed, readied her pistol, and aimed it at the fungal back of one of the hunters. Then she fired.

The hunter fell. The rest turned to stare at us, and I realized then whose faces they had stolen.

They were the clan who had sheltered me. Just this month, they had allowed me to walk among them. But I had to leave in the end, knowing they would kill me for wanting to leave the Forest, knowing they would believe I might infect the outside world. It was that paranoia that turned them, I think. It is no great feat for fear to turn to hatred, for distrust to turn to violence.

Their faces were covered in flies and plant matter. Their mouths were stained with blood.

They were fast. They were armed with stone axes, flint spears, scavenged guns. They were upon us quickly. We were surrounded.

My scar spiked into pain as stabbed the hunter that had once been Trevor Geist. He had once been the father of a woman whose corpse I had to bury. I had neither the time nor the presence of mind to look down at my belly, but I was certain the scar had grown in branches.

A panicked violence overtook me, and I stabbed another hunter. This one had been called Elizabeth Geist. The more corpses whose motion I stopped, the worse the pain grew. Finally, I screamed out in agony. I could kill no more.

But there were still a dozen hunters left, and Harper and Samuel were nearly as incapacitated as I was. Their scars were growing to cover more and more of their bodies as their faces contorted in agony.

One of the hunters suddenly fell to the ground, its eyes widened and a bullet hole through its chest. As its corpse twitched, I saw standing behind it Clint Robinson holding a pistol.

More hunters fell. I saw survivors all around, surrounding the ring of hunters and slaying each of them in turn. Finally, the last hunter fell.

As I saw how many people had banded together to save us, the scar stopped hurting.

Once again, we are setting out to leave the Forest. This time, I believe it will work.

XXIX: Burial

We buried the hunter last night. I only wish that I had been mourning Matthew Davies rather than fearful that we were wasting time.

I was terrified when I prepared to kill the thing that wore Matthew's face that the scar would start to ache.

And it did. As he died, my scar grew the same sickly green color it once had been, though it was not yet a network of branches extending across my belly.

I do not understand why. I was doing it to protect my friends, to ensure the safety of others. Did something inside me know I had done something wrong?

But I am not a fighter. I have said so in the past, and it is still true now. To kill is to go against my own desires regardless of the circumstances. The pain and fear it causes me feeds the Forest no matter what justification I can offer up.

I am only glad that my hesitation does not seem to have cost us the way out of the Forest. We have kept moving since burying Matthew, and we have yet to see the star-marked tree.

XXVIII: Face

Harper suggested the name Sasha as Samuel helped the two of us finish setting up a tent. It is not a name with which I have any strong associations, the way Max was the name of the childhood dog Viktor and I owned once. It does, however, feel like it was meant to be mine.

A noise came from the trees while Harper and I were inside the tent and Samuel was outside. Something felt off about it. I crawled out of the tent to see Samuel attempt to fend off an unarmed hunter using his pocket knife. I recognized its shape as one of the inhabitants of what was, at the time, Harper's settlement. A man named Matthew.

It turned to me as I stood up and drew my pistol. Its jaw creaked open, and it said my name. The name I had at the time, that is.

"Kosta Ivanov," it growled.

Its back was turned to Samuel, its legs moving in my direction instead of his, but I could see in his eyes that he would be unable to kill the hunter. Its face reminded him too much of the man it used to be.

"Samuel. Do you need me to do this for you?" I asked, holding up my pistol.

He nodded as he slowly put down the knife.

I fired once. The hunter collapsed.

My pistol is out of ammunition now, and I still have yet to find a suitable replacement for my knife. Samuel and Harper have no spares. If we are to leave the Forest, we must do so soon.

XXVII: Name

My scar has become minor enough that it no longer hinders me from moving. I feared for Harper and Samuel, but they assured me that they would come to no harm if they traveled with me once more in hopes of escaping the Forest.

As we walked, I discussed with Harper and Samuel the nature of my name and its status as a placeholder of sorts. Samuel suggested several names- Avery, Alex, Max, and so on- but I rejected each of them, largely on account of the simple fact that none of them felt quite right. Harper did not make any suggestions, but I could tell that she was thinking through things. I did not want to interrupt her.

As to more pertinent news, I may be speaking too soon, but I have yet to come across the star-marked tree.

XXVI: Healing

The first thing I noticed when I woke up this morning was that I was not in pain. I glanced down at myself, and the scar was still there, though it was once again the size it had been when it was only a wound from a spear. It was there, but it did not hurt, nor was it green in color.

I nearly wept.

The second thing I noticed was that Harper had fallen asleep in the chair she had placed beside me as I rested. She looked peaceful, her baseball cap tilted to cover her eyes and her denim jacket slung loosely over her chair.

I stayed in bed for a while longer until she woke up. For whatever reason, I wanted to wait for her.

Then, eventually, she woke up and saw my faded scar. She squinted in confusion for a moment. Then her eyes widened as she realized what had happened.

She asked how it happened. I asked her to bring Samuel downstairs first. When the two of them had arrived, I told them that the scar no longer ached at all and said that I believed they had helped me. They seemed confused. Accordingly, I explained that I believed the Forest's nature as a being of fear and distrust means that to deny it that paranoia is to reject the Forest itself.

Samuel asked how someone could do that intentionally. I told him that I am frankly completely uncertain as to how one might reject the Forest deliberately. I did, however, say that I fully intend on granting himself and Harper the protection they will need to heal their own scars.

Were the Forest still grasping me in its tendrils, I would almost worry that we have allowed ourselves to become prey for something stronger. I know the truth, however. Humans may be animals, but we are social animals.

XXV: A Branching Scar

I spoke with Harper today. I told her about the feelings I had regarding my lack of familiarity with the group and my difficulty trusting people. As I did so, I felt a sharp pain coming from my scar. My scar is always in a dull, aching pain, but when I spoke with Harper it grew so intense I could not breathe. I had to excuse myself before walking away and taking off my shirt to see the scar.

The scar was the same infected green as ever, but it covered more of my body than it had before, extending outwards in branches. As I panicked, the pain grew worse.

Harper came to find me when I started to scream.

She didn't have to ask what was wrong this time.

I only have the energy to write this down because Harper and Samuel brought me back to our home base, each lifting one side of a makeshift gurney through the open door, and stayed with me as I recovered.

They did not heal my scar. Nobody can do that anymore. As they watched over me, however, I remembered how kind people can be even to those who are all but strangers, and the wound grew smaller.