Wonderful Insane World-Chapter 45: Eyes in the Woods

Dylan had wrapped a bandage around his arm, right where Élisa had cut him to get those creepy things out of his body.

The bleeding had stopped... only to start up again, even worse.

On the way, all he had left to defend himself was his machete, now that his rifle was out of ammo.

At one point, he thought about chucking the damn thing — seriously, carrying dead weight? No thanks.

But he hesitated.

Leaving something like that out in the wild felt... wrong.

"That thing cost a fortune..." he muttered. He could probably sell it once they made it there.

Élisa, though, quickly shot that idea down.

Selling a gun like that? Way too risky. Too many procedures. Too many possible investigations.

And if some noble laid eyes on it and decided he liked it... Dylan, without a title or a name to protect him, would get squashed like a bug.

That was the kind of world waiting for them.

So, reluctantly, he decided to stash the weapon somewhere hidden, a spot only he — and obviously Maggie and Élisa — could find later.

"I should’ve done the same with mine..." Maggie mumbled behind him.

Dylan, leading the way, turned his head, one eyebrow raised.

His eyes widened as he caught what she meant.

She hadn’t managed to grab her weapon during the hyena attack.

"Honestly, I should’ve thought of it..." he thought bitterly.

The image of Maggie surrounded by hyenas, standing in the middle of a pile of corpses, half-dead, her weapon and mag completely empty, flashed through his mind.

A straight-up nightmare.

No normal human could’ve held out against that many enemies armed only with a hatchet, even if it meant dying in the process.

But Maggie... was she even "human" in the classic sense of the word?

Who would dare think that, after what she’d pulled off?

Pushing those thoughts aside, Dylan glanced at Élisa, who was walking right behind him, and asked, a bit rushed but still calm:

"How much longer ’til we find that river?"

He sighed and added:

"We’ve been walking for, like, fifteen minutes already, right?"

Élisa rolled her eyes, like she was doing math in her head.

"If we’re following the map right..." she said, scanning the horizon, "maybe another twenty minutes. Tops."

Dylan grumbled into his non-existent beard, swinging his machete from one hand to the other like he could shake off the exhaustion gnawing at his shoulders.

The forest around them had gone quieter.

Way too quiet, actually — even the birds seemed to have noped the hell out.

Only the soft crunch of dead leaves under their boots broke the heavy, choking silence.

Maggie trudged behind him, her steps heavy but steady.

She wasn’t talking.

She never talked much anyway.

But Dylan could feel it — this weird nervous energy leaking off her, like a cold draft creeping up his spine.

He shot a quick look around.

The trees were pressing in tighter, their twisted trunks closing in like the jaws of some invisible trap.

A nasty shiver climbed up his back.

Ever since they’d stepped into this damned forest, Dylan had felt watched.

Eyes — sick, twisted eyes — staring at them from the shadows.

Sometimes, during his watch, he’d gotten up, scoured the surroundings, and found nothing.

He’d ended up telling himself it was all in his head.

But... Dylan’s gut had never failed him before.

And as crazy as it sounded...

he couldn’t shake the feeling that the forest itself was watching them, silently savoring their presence.

Childish thoughts.

Straight-up delusions.

Yeah... maybe.

No proof, no answers.

Just that deep-seated pessimism in him that never really slept.

They kept moving.

And, just like before, Dylan didn’t see a single creature.

Nothing.

No noise, no breath, not even a twitch.

Like even the beasts had bailed out of here...

Which, being real, wasn’t supposed to happen.

Dylan grumbled, tightening his grip on his machete, and pushed on.

They kept walking, careful, almost tiptoeing.

Every crack of a branch under their boots echoed like a thunderclap in the suffocating silence.

Dylan frowned, super alert for the slightest movement, while Maggie clenched her fists behind him.

Élisa kept her eyes locked ahead — or more like, glued to Dylan’s back.

Then, suddenly.

A noise.

A sharp rustling in the bushes, off to their right.

Everyone froze dead.

Dylan’s heart skipped a beat.

He snapped his machete up, ready to pounce at the slightest threat.

Maggie stepped back, gripping her hatchet with both hands.

Élisa lifted her daggers in front of her face, ready to slice if needed.

Then another sound — louder this time — and leaves went flying, forced apart by something big.

Instinctively, they crouched, ready to bolt the second things went south.

The tension was electric.

Then, without warning, two tiny furballs exploded out of the bushes in a whirlwind of screeches and flailing limbs.

A pair of rabbits.

Full-on brawl mode — fighting for... who the hell knew what.

The scene was so absurd that for a second, nobody moved.

Dylan blinked, dumbfounded.

Maggie slowly lowered her fists.

Élisa, though, stayed frozen a second too long.

Her eyes went wide — shining like a kid at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

And, practically drooling, she shouted with an almost feral excitement:

"FOOD!!!"

On pure reflex, Dylan and Maggie moved at the same time.

Two sharp whistles through the air.

Two clean, precise moves.

And before you could even blink, the two rabbits were thrashing wildly, each dangling by one ear — one in Dylan’s calloused hand, the other in Maggie’s firm grip.

Silence slammed back down, harsh and sudden like a slap.

They barely exchanged a glance — just a tiny, silent nod —

A "mission accomplished" kind of vibe, before picking up their march like nothing had happened.

Élisa skipped behind them, eyes sparkling, already picturing an imaginary campfire.

Meanwhile, the forest seemed to sulk, pissed it had lost two of its kids.

But they didn’t care.

They were locked on one goal...

Well, not all of them, ’cause Élisa was definitely more locked on the food than the river —

but for Dylan and Maggie, reaching the river was the only thing that mattered.

And a few minutes later, as the ground got softer under their boots and a cooler breeze kissed their faces,

the soft murmur of flowing water finally reached their ears.

The river was there.

Right in front of them.