Scene 13

As like last cycle, a quiet hum of activity filters through your consciousness as you come to. Your umbilical cord is still clamped firmly between your arms, and your neurons are undisturbed. For that, you are thankful.

You clear your vision and find several scavengers staring at you—or, well, your neurons. You pull them closer, glancing between all of them. The brown scavenger from last night is in the group, blinking at your neurons. Their gazes are still more curious than afraid, though there’s a definite air of uncertainty among them now.

It would be good to explain your… biology, or at least attempt to. You point at your neurons, then at yourself. “This me.”

You get a crowd of rapid, confused blinking. The brown scavenger from last night creeps a little closer, hesitantly reaching a hand out towards your neurons. You tighten your grip on your umbilical cord, bracing yourself for having to snatch it away. “This you?” it repeats, gently poking your neurons. “Glow is you?”

“Yes.” How do you convey these ideas with your so very limited vocabulary… You mime plucking off one of the neurons. “Dangerous me.” Close enough?

A gradual understanding, though still laced with confusion and curiosity, comes into the scavenger’s eyes as it glances between you and your neurons. Then, it shakes its head violently at you. You stare at it in confusion. It stares back; there’s a moment of awkward silence before the scavenger scuttles away, tail tucked between its legs. You decide not to go after it.

You should follow their lead though. You clamber to your feet, retrieving your lance, and you stare down at it for a few moments. Honestly, it’s a lot easier to carry it in your hands than put it into your harness. The harness might still be useful for some other weapon you may get further along your journey, but you’re better off just holding your lance for now you think. You heft it over one shoulder as you make your way out of the scavengers’ settlement.

You saw part of it last cycle, but you’re still taken aback by the sight of the ruins of the nectar sector as you emerge from the dim depths of the scavengers’ abode. Piles and piles and piles of metal as far as you can see, without any semblance of the delicate nectar flowers that were supposed to grow here… You should have expected—were expecting—this, but it still settles inside of you uncomfortably like a stray spark of electricity.

A lot of this metal was here to prevent the nectar flowers from being crushed by the rains. That clearly backfired; you gingerly step around some of the wreckage, straining to lift a particularly large sheet of metal momentarily before giving up and letting it go. Maybe there was a chain reaction. One part collapsed, causing neighboring parts to collapse, which eventually spread to the whole nectar sector, ruining it all in one fell swoop.

… you could stand here theorizing all day, but you really shouldn’t. You need to get some more food, and to be on your way.

>Hey! Maybe there’s still enough of that vulture left to get something from it… maybe…

This overseer really wants you to harvest something else from the vulture. It’s really too far away from you though, and if it hasn’t been shredded into dust by the rain, the worm grass would certainly have digested it by now.

It’s not a bad idea to go look for food though. You tear yourself away from this part of the wreckage, looking for any possible signs of food. You could easily backtrack for some worm grass, but frankly, you’d rather have something else at this point. You still have those strange bug pupae those other scavengers gave you. Maybe there’s more around here?

Actually. You pull one of said pupae out of your pockets, waving it at the scavengers milling around you. They blink up at you curiously, reaching their hands out for the fruit, but pausing as they realize you’re not trying to trade. You—fuck, okay, you don’t know how to say ‘search’ or 'more'—point at the fruit, then scratch at the… air, you’re too high off the ground when standing. “This want.”

The nearest scavenger, a small one with a white body and a dark brown face, chitters at you softly. It holds up a hand, fingers pointed up and held loosely, and twists it, then points eastwards. So east… has fruit?

You repeat its signs back at it. “Fruit there?” you ask to confirm, pointing in the same direction it pointed at.

“Yes,” it responds, blinking curiously. “Fruit there.”

That was simple enough. “Thank you,” you say, hefting your lance higher, and then wave them farewell—wait, do they even understand that? Never mind. You set off anyways.

To the immediate east is really just another pile of wrecked metal, but you trust the scavengers know their way around. And, to their credit, it doesn’t take you very long to see the pupae hanging in clumps of three and four from the ruined structures. You carefully climb up to fetch the closest clump. These are a lot more sustaining than the worm grass, thankfully. (+3 blue fruit)

You drop to the ground, dusting yourself off, and catch a glimpse of a brown eartler ducking out of sight as you straighten up. You stare at where it was, but the scavenger doesn’t show up again. You still get the sense that you’re being followed.

You stare at where the eartler was a little longer, then shrug, climbing up again to get a better vantage point for where to get around the wreckage. You don’t care enough to do anything about this.

>As your very reliable friend- if you consider us as a friend- you should as the scavengers for directions on how to get past.

You look impassively at your overseer as it wiggles above your head. You’re not 'friends’ with any part of yourself, because that’s besides the point. Your overseers are connected to you and are inherently part of you, but that is where the relationship ends.

Still, you’re not opposed to its idea. But first, you get a quick glance over the top of the wreckage, gauging your position. You are, as suspected, at the far corner of the nectar sector, and there is a field of wreckage ahead of you. No surviving nectar lilies in sight. There’s no clear path either, just heaps and heaps of metal everywhere you look. You might need to climb through it on your way eastward.

You drop back down to the ground. As you turn around, you spot a black tail poking out from behind the same piece of metal you saw the eartler at earlier. You tuck your lance securely under your arm as you approach; the tail retreats with a marked amount of haste as you start walking. Rounding the corner, you come face to face with three scavengers, all of them staring at you with a mixture of embarrassment and alarm. One is the brown headed scavenger from earlier, and another is the brown scavenger from the previous cycle. Accompanying them is a black scavenger with greenish yellow eyes that blinks at you nervously.

The brown headed scavenger waves at you weakly. You huff out a laugh, waving back at it, and it brightens slightly. It extends a flat hand, shaking it, then points at you, then shakes its hand again with an expectantly cocked head. That was clearly some sort of question directed at you, but you have no idea what it could be. You’re not sure you’d know how to respond regardless.

You should ask it about where to go though. Despite its disappointed expression at your lack of a response, you attempt to ask, “Want no dangerous there?” And you point emphatically east.

The scavengers look at the black scavenger, who blinks rapidly at you. “There you want?” it asks, pointing in the same direction you did.

“Yes, no dangerous.” You end up saying this a lot…

The black scavenger blinks at you a few more times, then starts walking east, making a beckoning motion at you. You follow it, ducking under a few fallen beams along the path it’s taking you on, and stop next to a discrete strip of rope tied around a jutting piece of rebar. The black scavenger points at it. “Follow that.”

You’ll have to start looking for these markers, but it should be simple enough. The path ahead through the wreckage is mostly clear, though some of these paths are probably intended for something the size of a scavenger. It’s better than nothing either way. You thank the scavenger before moving on, pulling your antennae back before you crawl through the opening in front of you.

The path just opens into more wreckage ahead of you. Vague paths wind off in three distinct directions: To your left, your right, and straight ahead. When it’s just you here, there’s an eerie stillness in the air.

>Oh hey, maybe you could ask your friendly overseers to help you!.. Oh wait, we aren't friends. Sorry! Can't help you.

You glare at your overseer; it pointedly turns its back to you. Is now really the time to be doing this?

>Well, you know what they say: Left is left and right is right, but straight looks cool so let’s go that way.

You’ve not heard that saying before, but you have no reason to object. The path straight ahead starts as a gently meandering route between stakes of broken metal with the a scattering of rivets still attached, but the further you go, the steeper the path goes. You pause at the bottom of a somewhat sheer wall comprised of jutting rebar and glinting scrap, scanning ahead of you. You don’t see anything resembling the marker the scavenger showed you earlier up here.

You do, however, notice a few discarded centipede scales. Small ones; you pick them up, running your thumb over the smooth orange surface. You don’t hear any skittering, but this might be an indication of a centipede nest being in the area. If you’re lucky, it’s all juveniles, but you’ll have to keep an eye out for them regardless.

Flicking the scales away, you stare up at the wall again. You’re not very inclined to climb this, and it doesn’t have the marker. You probably went the wrong way.

>W- well, you know what they say: straight might not be correct because you’re too gay, so let’s just go back and follow the path to the right.

You stare at your overseer incredulously. It's not wrong, but what the fuck? Of all things for your overseers to say to you, you weren't expecting that.

... well, right it is. You make your way back and take the right path, ducking under a few low hanging pieces of metal; on one of them, you spot another piece of knotted string. You brush past it on your way forward, pinning your antennae down so they don't get caught as you continue. It's nice to have confirmation that you're going the right way.

There are more centipede scales on the ground as you crawl onward. Some of these are fairly large, though not large enough to have been from a fully grown centipede. You pause briefly to scan the ground for centipede tracks, though you find none. There must be a cluster of them nearby somewhere if you're finding their scales.

No centipede comes to greet you as you straighten up and dust your cloak off after emerging from the other side of the passageway. Instead, you find yourself at another crossroads, this time branching into only two paths through the metal wreckage. You're currently standing in the middle of a pile of scraps; there's so much destroyed infrastructure here that you can't even see the ground. It's a wonder the scavengers don't cut their paws while coming here.

A rustle sounds behind you. You turn, readying your lance, but find nothing. That didn't sound like a centipede.

You stare back at the way you came for a few more moments. Nothing comes into view. Slowly, you turn back to the paths ahead, keeping your senses primed and your lance in hand. Whatever it is, you'll be ready for it when it shows up.

>Let’s go to the left now you genderfluid purple fuck.

“I—excuse me? What did you just call me?”

Your overseer promptly vanishes. You splutter out a few more half-words, then give up, throwing your hands into the air. Unbelievable. They don’t have to be like this about you, even if they’re right in some aspects.

The left path takes you up higher, forcing you to climb up a little ways with the jutting metal around you. You keep your lance clamped underneath your arm as you climb, which makes using that arm awkward, but you make it up to the top without too much struggle. Above you is yet another piece of rope, this time neatly braided to keep the ends of the string from flapping in the slight breeze blowing your way.

You pause at the top. You’re… on top of what used to be a harvester, you think. Part of the machinery used to harvest nectar anyways. This part of the infrastructure fell in one big chunk, with other, smaller pieces of metal collapsed around it. It’s at least twice as tall as you are, even on its side. You never really stopped to think about how this all worked back when you still had citizens to contend with; the nectar sector collected nectar, and that was that. Now, though, the weight of all this machinery surely contributed to the demise of the nectar lilies. You wouldn’t be surprised if you were standing on top of the remains of one of them right now.

Ahead of you, there are more collapsed beams, all of them jutting this way and that in a dizzying jigsaw of destruction. The rest of the harvesting machinery didn’t seem to fare as well as the one you’re on right now, as you see a few sheets of torn metal lying around the beams. You imagine the pipes down below are similarly ruined, since with the harvesters destroyed, water and other substances would get into the pipes. You shut off the pipe delivery to your can the moment all of your citizens ascended, so it’s never been a problem for you, but again, it’s still jarring to see it all so destroyed. You wonder if Five Pebbles let these pipes deliver gunk to him.

Another rustle, and then a familiar yip of pain. You glance back down where you came and see the same brown eartler from earlier duck out of view. They must have been what the rustling earlier was. Why are they still following you?

>Innocence, you should genderfluid the fuck up and make sure that scav doesn’t follow you. They could have malicious intent! Or uh- they could hurt themselves.

“What—”

Your overseer vanishes before you get anything else out. What does that even mean? You’re already genderfluid, what are you supposed to do about that?

Whatever. You were going to check on the scavengers yourself anyways. You carefully climb back down, stepping carefully around the metal scraps, and backtrack along the path you came. You’re not sure what they want from you, but that doesn't matter to you right now.

You find the three of them halfway up the tunnel you took earlier. The brown scavenger from last cycle has its back to you, hands flying around as it angrily signs something at the brown headed scavenger, who is clutching at its left wrist with a strained expression. The black scavenger is standing behind them, and its eyes stretch wide as it spots you. Upon a warning chirp from the black scavenger, the other two scavengers whip around and stare at you, their eyes similarly widening and taking on embarrassed and slightly guilty glints.

The brown headed scavenger waves at you again, revealing dark green marks on its hand. You glance down at its wrist, easily spotting the shallow cut there before it clamps its hand back onto the wound, rattling its spines self-consciously. The dark brown scavenger whips around to sign furiously at its companion again, raking a hand over its own wrist, and the brown headed scavenger bristles, shaking its spines as it stiffly flicks its hand in a manner that you recognize as “I’m fine!” even without further context. The black scavenger merely glances back and forth between you and its arguing companions, eyes wide and uncertain.

You gently step between the arguing scavengers and nudge them apart. Then, you gesture at the brown headed scavenger’s injured arm. “You fine? No dangerous?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” It glares at the brown scavenger, who scowls back at it. Then it does three signs in quick succession: It taps its index finger to its thumb, then makes a claw with its right hand and shakes it back and forth over its left wrist, and then curls its fingers into its palm and runs its thumb over the backs of its fingers. It’s something about its wounds—both instances of the claw hand being used were in relation to a wound—but you’re not sure what exactly it’s saying. Either way, it seems confident that it’ll be alright.

In that case… “No follow me. Please.” You can’t think of anything they would get out of it. You won’t be staying in this area very long anyways. They’re better off staying with the rest of their kind.

The three scavengers blink at you forlornly. “No want… hurt,” you continue, copying the sign with the claw hand you saw earlier and shaking it over your own wrist. “Follow me, you hurt.”

The scavengers look at each other. The black scavenger begins to sign something; you can’t understand what, but you assume it’s some sort of protest. “Please, no,” you repeat, and you point to the end of the tunnel. “No follow please.” You really don’t want them following you, even if you enjoy their company.

They blink at you a few times. When the black scavenger lifts its hands to sign, you turn and briskly walk back to the fallen nectar harvester. You don’t have the words to argue with them, and you’d rather not have to try. Maybe you can just outpace them.

You clamber up the nectar harvester as quickly as you can, tossing your lance over the top to free up your hand. Partially skidding over the smooth top of the nectar harvester, you half climb, half drop down to the layer of metal shards below, and then you retrieve your lance and start on forwards. There’s a path straight ahead, and another to your right. The path forward is low to the ground and slopes less than the path to the right, but otherwise both paths appear similar. You don’t really care which path you take as long as it lets you keep moving.

>Following the same logic as last time, we should take the path to the right.

You enter the path to the right upright, but quickly have to drop to a crawl to move through shards of metal that scrape against your arms. If you were more organic, it would certainly have cut your flesh up into ribbons, but fortunately (and unfortunately) it only snags on your cloak. You decide to stop before you get in too deep, gathering the hems of your robe sleeves before they get ripped into shreds. There's no way the scavengers could have come this way.

The broken metal forms a claustrophobic cage around you as you carefully back out the way you came, various dilapidated beams and groaning and creaking treacherously as you slowly creep your way backwards. You shrink into yourself, trying not to touch the sharp walls as you carefully creep backwards. Why have the scavengers even traversed this area enough times to mark safe passages through here? Not that you're not grateful for it, but you can't imagine ever voluntarily going through here, let alone multiple times.

As your hands shuffle the metal scraps around you around, you catch a hint of soil; you pause to scrabble at that area a little more, uncovering the remnants of a soil plot. If there is anything left of the balm lily that used to grow here, you don't detect it in the soil. You don't sense any decaying matter, either. Just soil and metal.

In full honesty, though, you really shouldn't expect anything. It's likely been so long since the nectar sector's collapse that the nectar lilies have been dead too long for anything to be left of them. You can't help but drag a finger through the soil anyways, reading its composition. It's acceptable for general farm use, you suppose, as long as the produce obtained from this soil is screened for dangerous levels of metallic toxins. The level of contaminants in the soil now would have killed any nectar lily that was somehow still alive though.

You dust the soil off your fingers with a sigh, continuing to crawl backwards. Night always liked those flowers. It tried to grow one in its labs once, you think. You don't remember how that experiment went, but you're not sure it was successful.

You make it out of the tunnel without your cloak being completely destroyed, though it has a notable increase in the number of holes in it. You try not to look at them as you glance around the area. You don't see the scavengers; maybe they did listen to you after all?

>I think we should go forward. If it doesn’t work again it’s because you’re too gay! Which you probably still are but it’s worth a try.

You stare at your overseer in complete bewilderment. Too gay? How do you even— None of these overseers are making any sense now.

… whatever. Gay or not, you’re moving on. Since when did your overseers start caring about your gender…?

You have to crawl through this other path from the beginning, but contrary to initial inspections, there’s actually a decent amount of room in this tunnel, allowing you to move past without having to scrunch into yourself too hard. There are also fewer metal scraps on the ground, with the majority swept to either side of the tunnel. You duck under the braided rope hanging from the ceiling, sweeping the rest of the broken metal to the side. The wreckage around you is lessening the further along this path you go. You must be almost out of the nectar sector.

The exit of the tunnel, by contrast, is tighter than you would have liked, and you have to carefully ease yourself out of the opening without either your antennae scraping against the top or your cloak catching on something and tearing. You peer back the way you came as you dust yourself off, noting the centipede scales discarded near the exit. It appears you weren’t the only one to struggle with this. These scales are considerably large; you switch your grip on your lance. You don’t want to know how big your puppet is compared to that thing, and you’re not taking any chances.

This time, there are three paths ahead of you: A left path, a right path, and a path forward that slopes upwards slightly. You can almost see the end of the nectar sector through the thinning wreckage here, but you’re not quite there yet.

>Wouldn’t it be more efficient if us overseers scout ahead and recon back to you what we saw? We could have done that then you just blindly guessing.

It would be. You hadn't thought of that, but you can do that now. Three of your overseers peel off and zip away ahead of you, one heading down along each path. You keep your lance in your hands as you wait for them to return, scanning the area around you for any sight of a centipede.

Nothing stirs here, save for the occasional creaking of metal. Momentarily you are alone. You pick at the dirt on the sharp end of your lance idly. There isn't much to do or see here, and that in and of itself makes you uneasy.

A skittering, the sound quiet but unmistakable, sounds from the path ahead. The corresponding overseer promptly returns, quickly relaying data about a nest of centipedes of varying sizes. The largest one is missing a few scales, and—you shudder—it's around twice as long as you are tall. Notably, however, the ground around them is mostly free of metal scraps, and the walls around them appear to be largely intact. You won't be heading that way, but you're definitely almost out of the nectar sector.

The other two overseers return, bearing confirmation of your conclusions: The right path has a strip of braided rope hanging from a comparatively intact remnant of a nectar harvester. The left path merely ends in a heap of collapsed metal and rubble. Tucking your lance under your arm, you hurry off to the right, kicking aside the metal scraps as you go. Centipedes, from the little you know about them, don't tend to notice the comings and goings of your overseers, but the sudden appearance of one of yours in their nest may have agitated them. You'd rather not stick around to find out.

The clouds are starting to roll towards you as you emerge from the wreckage of the nectar sector into what appears to be a dim back alley. The walls of the buildings around you, though clearly weathered and past their prime, are relatively undamaged. You let out a sigh of relief as you continue down the alleyway. This part of the farm sector should be alright, you hope, since it's less delicate. And admittedly, you're glad to be out of the ruins.

This is the... processing subsector of the farm sector, you think. From a glance you can't tell which building does what, but you know many were in charge of refining the harvests, including but not limited to the tubers, the wheat, and the nectar. Since you just came out of the nectar sector, you're probably near the buildings that would have refined the raw nectar into something more practically usable. You're not sure where the other staple crops are processed, but you imagine they're further off to the edges. Either way, you should have ample avenues of exploration around here.

>My semi-friend but not really friend that I’m connected to, you should check the buildings, if this is really a place where they refined nectar, there should be food here, right? Maybe the workers left like, an old sandwich or something. U- unless this place was automated, then I got no idea.

All buildings constructed for the functioning of your local group were automated, since the rain from even just one of your siblings would have been sufficient to severely injure or outright kill anyone caught out in the downpour. You've heard that the procedures for building your and Five Pebbles' facilities were particularly precarious, but you never cared enough to look into it. Either way, it's unlikely there are any remnants of your creators around these parts. You wouldn't want to have the long-decayed food scraps of what they left here anyways.

Regardless, you walk down the alley and turn the corner to the nearest building. From a glance, it's impossible to tell what this building was for. This is one building in a series of identical buildings that you can only assume serve the same function. You're not completely clear on what the process of refining nectar is at this point, so you have no guesses for the function of this building.

The door is of a similar type to the other access doors you've seen. You press your hand against it, sending a few brief electrical pulses to open the door. Instead of sliding open, however, the door offers only a sliver of space before emitting a loud screeching noise. You hastily cancel the command, skittering a few steps away from the door. You won't be getting in this way, you guess.

Windows were not commonplace in any of the constructions built for your generation. There was no point in installing them, after all, since these buildings were never designed to require regular check ups. However, that means that aside from the door, you'll need to look around for a crack in the walls to enter any given building. The identical buildings stretch off into the distance on either side of you, and even more are stationed in front of you. Since all of these buildings are identical, there's no particular priority in which you should check these.

>No particular order eh? Eeny, meeny, miny, moe… Let’s go left this time! We already established that straight can’t ever be correct, and there’s no way it’s right three times in row, right?

You give your overseers a withering glare. “Could you stop going on about my being queer?” you snap. “I don’t know why you all have chosen to care now, but could you not? It’s not funny and I don’t know why you’re making a big deal of it.”

Your overseers don’t respond, merely staring at you. You give them a last glare before stalking off to the left, heading to the next building over. It doesn’t look any more worn than the one you were just at, and fortunately, the door slides open without a fuss. Within is a large boiler set up, built high enough that you’re able to walk underneath the main body of the boiler if you so wished. A few twisting pipes run through the room, with both ends buried in the concrete below your feet. You recognize this as a distillation set up, one of the early steps of nectar refinement; the nectar isn’t actually boiled, but it’s still heated substantially to remove smaller impurities.

You approach the heating elements warily. While you’re not particularly hopeful about any of the equipment here being functional, you’re not so naive to believe that none of it will be. This distillation set up looks so intact that it looks like this heating element could still be operational, and in that event, you don’t want to be in this building. There are some insulation elements around the heating elements to prevent heat leakage from damaging the pipes nearby, but you know that the nectar is heated enough to kill cellular life. Your own cells will not fare well in that heat.

There isn’t much else in this building except dust. This facility is astonishingly intact, all things considered. You kick at the dust briefly before making your way back outside. Nothing in there left for you.

It’s… a little strange, though. You pause in the doorway, looking back at the boiler set up. It’s about safety, in the end, but it’s still odd that you’re distrustful of anything that still operates. It’s somewhat antithetical to your whole existence as an iterator. You would otherwise have thought that continued to function, despite the circumstances, was better.

… ah well. You shut the door. No use dwelling on this now.

>Wait wait wait, go back inside. Maybe there’s something we could like, take to drink later. Maybe like… I dunno, drink the nectar? Can- can you even drink nectar?

Probably? You get all of your nutrition through your neuron flies. In theory, if you were to submerge your neuron flies in a nutrient liquid, they would be able to uptake it. It would be similar to how neuron flies usually obtain nutrients, though with... significantly more liquid than is typical. That being said, finding a way to submerge your neuron flies in nectar is not a task you want to attempt.

Regardless, you're not going to find any nectar here. You would be more concerned if you did find any, actually. Nectar is treated further after distillation—you don't remember the exact process anymore—and then bottled in separate facilities. Any nectar you would find in the distillation facilities would be from a leak. Considering this specific building seems intact, you wouldn't expect to find any leaks in there. Besides, these tanks are probably empty by now, even if some of the equipment is still functional.

>Just a little banter between not-friends, Inno! Let’s see if straight ends up working this time then eh?

“Don’t call me that,” you mutter as you move towards the other building. “Didn’t I already tell you that?”

(You miss Des. Fuck, you miss Des. Why didn’t you say anything to him?)

This building isn’t in quite as good shape as the one you just inspected, but the walls are intact at least. Nevertheless, just like the other door, you press your hand against it to open it. It doesn’t screech like the first one you tried, thankfully, but it only opens halfway before the door clicks and freezes in place. You wait a few seconds, but it doesn’t budge.

It did open enough to let you get through at least. You duck underneath and enter the building, casting your gaze around cursorily. The distillation set up in here is significantly more damaged, parts of it having collapsed with the main boiler having cracked open, exposing the maze of pipes within. You can’t see the heating element, but you wouldn’t expect it to be intact enough to operate properly. In a pinch, this building would probably be a decent enough place to stay to wait out the rain. The door should still close, which would make the building water tight.

You head back to the door to do exactly that, but pause as you pick up on what sounds like chirping. It’s distant, but growing louder and clearly distressed. It sounds like— You groan as you heft your lance up. Was your attempt at telling them not to follow you not conveyed well enough, or did they just choose to do it anyways?

You duck back out of the building to see the black scavenger running full tilt at you, squeaking in terror. Behind it, hot on its heels, is a massive centipede, its many legs clicking on the ground as it rushes after the scavenger. The scavenger doesn’t even hesitate when it spots you, immediately darting behind you. The centipede follows in hot pursuit, but halts in its tracks as you slam the non-bladed end of your lance down in front of it.

It seems to hesitate, antennae twitching rapidly. You know they can see, so it’s able to see you and your lance; you flip it in your hands so the bladed end is pointing at the centipede. You can vaguely feel the scavenger cowering behind you, can hear the spears on its back rattle as it quivers in terror, but it stays behind you. You hold your stance, glaring down at the centipede. This must be the centipede whose scales you found earlier. Several of said scales are missing on this behemoth of a myriapod, further confirming your suspicions.

The centipede clicks its forcipules together a few times, then coils back on itself before surging forward towards you. You knock it away with the blunt side of your lance, flipping it over and pushing it a fair distance away. Undeterred, it flips itself over and starts moving towards you again, but stops and writhes in agony as a rebar spear embeds itself into one of its descaled segments. The scavenger steps up next to you before throwing a second spear, which embeds in the same descaled segment with a meaty thunk. Now significantly injured, the centipede limps away, the two spears waving wildly as it staggers back the way it came.

You watch it go, ensuring that it's gone, before glowering down at the scavenger. It’s clutching its last spear like a lifeline, anxiously watching the centipede leave while rustling its spines. Then, sensing your glare, it slowly looks up at you, meeting your gaze. It gives you a hesitant, awkward wave.

“No follow.” You cross your arms.

The scavenger blinks a few times, then shakes its head in apology—they shake their head to say they’re sorry?—and starts signing something: It points to the side, sweeping its arm forward; then points to itself, a motion you recognize as the sign for 'me’; then it places its palms together and twists them in opposite directions; and finally it points at you before signing 'follow.’ You don’t recognize all of these signs, but you get the general gist of the message: The other two scavengers told it to follow you. You make a quick note of the apparent syntax of their language with a sigh.

The scavenger blinks hopefully up at you, though the way it rustles its spines belies a hint of lingering anxiety. You break eye contact with it, huffing. You don’t know what to do with this scavenger.

[Proceed to Status Update 13 | Return to Status Update 12]