The erasure did not act like the divide by zero error it was. It did not roar or rumble to announce its presence. It whispered, so that the foolish would mistake it for a mirage.
Pluto noticed it a lot later than Mira did. It was like a thinning of perception, where certain points felt incomplete. Sometimes he couldn't even view it, feeling his brain hammer and his vision die out whenever he tried.
It was slow, crawling a few metres every hour. A snail could probably run from it, but at the same time, it was unavoidable.
"It's shrinking," he thought aloud.
Mira didn't answer because the question wasn't directed at her. It was Pluto's way of overcoming his fear, by finding the tiniest bit of reasoning to unreasonable events.
"Yes," she said after a while. They were already moving inwards. And so was everything else – the humans and the unholy.
And that was a bigger problem than it seemed. As the outer rings ceased to exist, entrants moved deeper. Those who had lingered at remote places to avoid confrontation, were now forced to journey towards the center.
Predators weren't left out of it too as conflict wasn't exclusively for humans. Different breeds clashed, different levels of hunger dictated hunting grounds. And sooner or later, even trees would have politics.
The forest wasn't small, it was still wider than most mountain ranges, but no longer big enough to disperse danger. Its inhabitants were proportionately larger now.
And that was made even more evident when someone burst through the curtains of vines. He was alone and afraid. He had left his cover and was in search of a new one.
He didn't see the hunchback predator perched above. It purred evilly before swooping down.
The scream was abrupt, stopping as soon as it started.
Mira looked away. Such a gruesome scene wasn't good for her appetite.
Pluto didn't look away. He felt irritated, but not concerned. It wasn't his fault that the entrant hadn't taken note of his surroundings. He watched the predator drag the body into the mist.
It wasn't just appalling, it was systematic. It was the forest's way of accounting for overpopulation.
Most beasts moved through Pluto's awareness. Not physically, but as muted heat signatures. They weren't fleeing, they when hunting. Lone entrants that were unprepared, groups that were unequipped, individuals that had given up hope.
"The wheel of violence is spinning even faster now. If we don't increase our rate..."
"We'll be next on the menu."
The words hung bounced off nothing, echoing again and again. The room for planning before attacking had been stretched thin. Ironically, they would have to act before thinking. Whether beast or human, they would have to kill when they could. They would be morally grey, but they would be alive.
***
The mist had darkened, telling that the sun had vacated the sky for the moon.
They had found food finally. Dark-skinned and heavy with juice. They grew only on the trees that seemed to have souls, which was almost none. Neither trusted it at first. But hunger at that level had turned cautious into a suggestion rather than a standard.
Pluto tested it first. It was sweet, but indescribable. It was unlike anything he had eaten before. He nodded at Mira and she took one off the tree.
They ate slowly in silence. Just one. It had been a prisoner's tale that if one ate too much too quickly after a long fast, they were most likely to die.
The sweetness was grounding in a way nothing else had been since they got here. It was their fourteenth night. Two weeks since they had left all they knew and got thrown into this slaughter house. Two weeks of grime and pain.
They chose not to hunt after dusk. The forest seemed even less safe in the dark, more sinister. Besides that, they had to preserve their energy. Growth meant nothing if exhaustion made them vulnerable.
Today they didn't rest in a ravine. They found a cluster of stone-rooted trees that seemed to conceal them decently from all angles.
Mira fell asleep first. Her injuries didn't do much to keep her awake. She slept lightly, unintentionally revealing too much of her skin.
Pluto remained awake longer, not to enjoy the promiscuous view, but because he had already made up his mind.
He looked outwards, searching for its heat signature. It flickered briefly with unreliable persistence. The eel coiled loosely, as if it had already given up on the night and slept in waiting for the day. Still it watched. Monitoring Pluto's pulse, monitoring his eyelids that weighed heavily on themselves.
Eventually, he slept.
***
Hours later–
He woke up without his alarm that he had grown accustomed to for years. Instinct had taken that role over, nudging him out of his sleep.
He wiped across his hazy eyes, feeling the world blur back into clarity.
Mira was still sleeping, her breath low and steady. The forest was almost invisible as mist and darkness joined hands to obscure sight to a metre ahead of the viewer.
He mouthed a yawn and rose quietly, careful not to wake her. He told himself it was reconnaissance, but he already knew where he was going.
The owl waited where it always did, always expecting and always amused.
Perched on a tree that seemed to be cut from two others, it blinked curiously even though it most likely knew why he came.
"You return, young fledgling," it said audibly.
Pluto nodded, not bothering to waste time dwelling on abnormal nature. He reached into the bag made out of vines strapped to his waist and tossed something small and hard out.
He looked up at the owl. "I want information."
The owl spread its wings excitedly. "You brought gifts."
Pluto scowled. "I brought payment."
The owl paused briefly, then nodded. "Information regarding?"
"Frankly, the equipments we have at our disposal are too crude to do anything with. Where are weapons found?"
The words were heavier than he expected. The intent of his questions was clear: better ways to murder.
Pluto continued. "I just can't keep fighting with my hands."
The owl flashed its failed smile again. "And why do you believe you cannot?"
Pluto looked perplexed for a moment. "Because skin doesn't exactly deflect a blade," he said in respond.
The owl's gaze sharpened. "Correct, young fledgling. Your skin cannot deflect a swung blade. But why do you assume weapons must be found?"
Pluto's brows furrowed. "Because they must."
"Blades must be found, weapons must not."
Pluto growled slightly. "I don't need riddles."
"Then you don't need an answer."
He stilled. He clenched his jaw. "I gave you a battle seed."
The owl hooted calmly. "And I gave you a reply. Adaptability is an armour no blacksmith can fashion."
"That's not information."
"It's direction. If you are too blind to follow the open path, then perhaps I shouldn't have wasted my time showing it to you."
Frustration surged through him. But for the fact that it wouldn't end well, he wanted to hurl a stone at its forehead.
"Just simplify."
A long pause ensued. " I already have."
Before Pluto could counter, it pushed off the branch and soared into the air, disappearing above the clouds of mist.
Pluto stood alone beneath the beautiful weaves of the canopy. The seed was still there, but he could not longer touch it, it belonged to a new owner.
He felt cheated. Almost betrayed save for the lack of trust he had for the intelligent native.
He had given something valuable, and received implications in return. The eel pulsed faintly as if laughing.
He looked at his hands. He frowned. "What are you laughing at you cunt?"
The eel didn't respond, just as was expected. He nodded slightly.
"Fine," he muttered. He would not return. Not for riddles, not for truths that were partly lies. The owl would watch from its branch. It would watch him grow without its knowledge.
***
He hadn't walked fifteen minutes from the owl's domain before he heard it.
Movement.
He looked through the eel's perspective but didn't see any heat patterns around. He didn't need to.
Behind him the shadow stepped out of its element. It wasn't a person clad in black. It was too tall to be one, too erratic to be sane.
Fear gripped him instantly.
The eel coiled tight against his spine. It was a message: run.
Pluto did not move, his legs had failed him. The shadow detached itself from the darkness even further. It didn't not have depth, it was two dimensional. It didn't advance, it observed.
Pluto's pulse hammered. He hadn't been this scared even when his apartment had dissolved into mist.
The figure was cold, having no heat pattern at least.
"That's new," Pluto whispered under his breath.
The shadow tilted its head like a confused kindergartener. It stepped forward slowly.
Pluto stepped back. The ground beneath him felt hollow and flowing.
The shadow paused at the edge of the filtering moonlight. Its features remained indistinct, like a silhouette refusing definition.
The eel suddenly tugged – left. Pluto shifted instinctively. Just after he moved, a branch vanished where he had been. It had been erased a second prior.
The shadow moved again, counting its steps like it wore cement for shoes. The eel's guidance waned, uncertain on what to do.
Whatever this was, it wasn't flesh. It was a force of nature. Pluto clenched his fists. He wasn't sure when they did so.
His senses were flooded with confusion. The eel's tugs changing with every step the shadow took, his brain trying to render the shadow as visuals, the environment around him struggling to hold unto reality.
And then Pluto realized –
That was this was–
It had stepped out of the compression itself.