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墨書 Inktalez
Despite the heavy rain, the mist that obscured our vision did not hinder the light from the One-Eyed Beast from reaching the source of the rumbling and the redirected water flow. I could only deduce from what was visible that the Lao People's perspective was correct: the water flow had changed direction here.
It was as if an invisible wall stood before us, blocking the Tropical Rainforest. Clearly, there was no way forward; our only options were to go left or right, essentially deciding whether to continue following the water's path. At least under the current light of the Flashlight, the trees extending to either side seemed endless. I imagined this was also what the Lao People were discussing.
I directed the One-Eyed Beast's light back along our path, but neither above nor below did I spot any sign of the Crimson Snake. This sparked another thought in my mind. Perhaps we had already escaped the Snake Swarm. If that were true, there would be no need to make a choice without understanding our situation. Instead, we should rest here until it got brighter and we could see clearly before deciding on our next move.
To be frank, I was quite curious about the terrain that could create such a massive whirlpool. In my memory, while observing the Valley's landscape from the cliff, I hadn't noticed anything particularly strange about it. Of course, distance or flooding caused by heavy rain could obscure details and alter what was visible.
The discussion between two Lao People escalated from voices to loud arguments, seemingly indicating a divergence in their opinions about our next course of action. I wasn't sure where their disagreement lay, but I had already made up my mind: we should rest here until it was light enough to assess our surroundings before determining our next steps. I interrupted their quarrel to share my thoughts.
To my surprise, both Lao People disagreed with me, despite their opposing ideas. While opposing my suggestion, they expressed their viewpoints: Buasong insisted on continuing downstream with the water flow, while the other Lao Person argued that the significant change in water direction was a warning signal; proceeding downstream would lead us into danger, and we should instead head in the opposite direction to avoid it. However, they both shared one commonality: they believed we could not stop.
I interpreted this as an instinctive sense of danger. Perhaps my instincts had dulled; I felt no imminent threat and instead felt relieved to have escaped what seemed like a perilous situation. Yet it soon became evident that their intuition was correct—the danger had not receded and would soon confront us.
As I attempted to persuade both Lao People while they tried to convince each other, that familiar chilling rustling sound returned unexpectedly. Beneath the roaring sound of rushing water, even the patter of rain became faint, and our heated argument faded into insignificance; yet that dense rustling noise penetrated each of our ears clearly. Perhaps we were simply too sensitive to this sound.
The moment that noise emerged, it abruptly interrupted our dispute; which direction we ran no longer mattered—what mattered was speed. As long as one person made a choice and took a first step in a direction, that would become our shared path. No one would be left behind at such a moment; psychologically, it just wouldn't happen.
However, none of us moved; we all frowned and strained our ears to determine where the rustling came from. The sound was dense and clearly originated from a Crimson Snake weaving through branches and leaves, but its direction puzzled me. Perhaps the overwhelming noise of rushing water affected our hearing; it seemed to me that this sound came more from either side—wherever those two Lao People had been arguing about fleeing.
I looked at the Lao People in confusion and found them equally bewildered like quails caught off guard. Since our ears were unreliable now, we had no choice but to rely on our eyes. I quickly turned on the One-Eyed Beast; its blinding white light pierced through the dense foliage and illuminated the distance.
Currently, we had two Flashlights: besides mine, Buasong also held one. As I switched on my Flashlight, Buasong simultaneously activated his One-Eyed Beast Flashlight. We instinctively directed our lights toward both sides of the forest without considering where we had come from. Clearly, we both sensed uncertainty regarding where that rustling sound originated from; thus, there was no way we would run back along our previous path—we couldn't turn back now.
I turned the flashlight to its highest setting. The beam was intense and could reach far, but there were no targets within its range. Buasong and I almost simultaneously changed direction, our One-Eyed Beast flashlights illuminating the path behind us. The combined strength of the two flashlights increased both the distance and the area we could see, and finally, we spotted something. At the end of the One-Eyed Beast's beam, a terrifying shade of red appeared.
The situation seemed clear. As soon as I saw that area stained red by snakes, the two Lao People finally reached a consensus. Buasong put away his flashlight and moved toward the direction he had chosen.
I stayed still and called out to Buasong, signaling him to take out his One-Eyed Beast flashlight. I directed my flashlight toward his chosen path first. A sense of unease washed over me; something felt off about this situation, and it couldn't be that simple. I wanted to combine our flashlights to confirm whether Buasong's chosen direction was indeed problematic or if things were as strange as I suspected.
Buasong was clearly more eager to escape this place. After some insistence from me, he reluctantly turned on his One-Eyed Beast flashlight again. The beam shone into the distance, reflecting off the leaves in front of us and illuminating Buasong's pale face.
I imagined my own expression wasn't any better. At the end of my flashlight's beam, there was a mottled red color that deepened continuously. It was evident that a large number of Crimson Snakes were gathering in that direction.
Suddenly, Buasong pointed the One-Eyed Beast flashlight in the opposite direction and urged me with an urgent tone. I understood Bai Ta's intention; although I thought it pointless to look in that direction, believing there was no escape there, I still complied with Buasong and turned my flashlight around.
As I expected, the other side was also bathed in crimson; we were surrounded.
Hearing such a dense rustling sound filled me with a sense of foreboding. It was unbelievable that this group of snakes would attack us in the forest; it contradicted animal behavior instincts. No animal would attack another species without reason, especially when both were trying to escape.
From what I could see, this group of snakes seemed somewhat social; they appeared to be gathering more of their kind, leaving us with no chance of escape. I noticed that the Snake Swarm was congregating at the end of the One-Eyed Beast's beam but had yet to advance further. I even felt that our arrival here was a result of their driving us away.
Now that this encirclement had closed in, there was no way for us to escape from any direction; it was only a matter of time before they launched their attack.
Fear and despair enveloped the three of us.
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