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墨書 Inktalez
From our position, about ten meters below, the brown bark of the tree transformed into a vibrant red, constantly writhing. The light from the One-Eyed Beast stimulated that red hue; when the light struck it, the writhing stopped abruptly, and numerous tendrils shot up like antennae from the trunk, resembling some kind of sea anemone swaying on the ocean floor—equally bright and vivid, yet completely still.
However, it wasn't entirely motionless. At the tip of each tendril, a thin, bifurcated red line extended outward, gently quivering. Yes, I saw that group of Crimson Snakes once again, if they were indeed the same ones I had seen before.
My first task was to wake the two Lao People from their slumber. Although I held little hope for our escape—if these snakes were indeed the same ones we had encountered before, their sheer numbers could easily overwhelm us—I still needed to rouse them so they could face their choices in life.
I managed to wake the two Lao People. Though still caught between sleep and wakefulness, they greeted me with a lewd grin. It dawned on me then that in my haste to wake them, I had completely forgotten my own state of undress. But there was no time to dwell on that; I pointed downwards to indicate something below and quickly put on my pants.
We were about to face an escape that could very well end our lives, and I did not want to appear so disheveled; even in death, I wanted to maintain some dignity.
Just as I fastened my belt, I heard Buasong exclaim as if bitten by a snake: "Poison mist."
Hearing this confirmed for me that the term referred to snakes. Ignoring him, I continued methodically dressing myself, retrieved the last segment of rope from my backpack, slung it over my shoulder, and pointed towards the treetops. "Run."
Just as I could understand some simple Lao phrases, the two Lao People could grasp a few basic Chinese words—like "run."
I knew their climbing skills surpassed mine; not wanting to be left behind again, I embraced the trunk and began to ascend. The two Lao People still needed to untie themselves from their ropes, naturally falling behind as I made my move. I didn’t look back at them or at those crimson snakes; once I started climbing upwards, I knew what had to be done. In truth, we had no choice but to keep climbing higher and then leap onto a neighboring tree when the opportunity arose.
How? Like Tarzan escaping from here. Of course, this depended on whether there were any of their kind on the adjacent trees. This group of snakes was likely swept here by floodwaters just like us; now I hoped they would remain calm at this resting point and refrain from making any more frantic moves.
The trunk of this tree was clean; there were no branches obstructing my view. The only trouble was that climbing it was quite strenuous; even at this height, the trunk remained thick enough that my arms barely wrapped around it. Climbing relied entirely on my arm and leg strength to grip the trunk while inching upward—my hands couldn't exhibit much dexterity. Fortunately, the pain in my back wasn’t as intense anymore; I could endure it without feeling faint.
With One-Eyed Beast clenched in my mouth, I climbed higher while turning my head to observe my surroundings for potential trees to jump to. I had seen how the Lao People leaped between two trees; while I lacked confidence in executing it myself, I would still rely on them to bridge the gap between both trees. However, I was confident in finding branches that were relatively close together.
Soon, I chose a branch close to another tree, which also spread out with a thick canopy of leaves. From that position, I could see a branch extending from the large tree across the way. I climbed onto that sturdy limb and didn’t rush to take action; instead, I turned on the One-Eyed Beast to full brightness and observed the situation on the opposite tree. As I suspected, there were Crimson Snakes on the lower half of the tree trunk across from me. However, these snakes seemed to have merely found a resting spot and weren’t climbing higher; they were all gathered at the bottom half of the trunk. The light continued to shine downward, and I saw that the water below was also a deep red, indicating that we were once again surrounded by this group of snakes.
At that moment, two Lao People climbed to the fork in this tree trunk. They seemed to agree on moving to another tree from here, but when they saw the red snakes on the opposite tree, their expressions turned grim, and they began muttering something to each other in an agitated tone, as if there was some disagreement.
When I saw the snakes on the opposite tree, my mind went blank as well. If this area of forest was occupied by these snakes, then moving to another tree would be pointless. I had no good ideas on what to do next; all I could do was observe the movements of these snakes more closely in hopes of finding a way out. Of course, the two Lao People should have more experience dealing with such situations than I did. If they had any ideas, I would be willing to heed their professional advice. But for now, it seemed they were not in agreement, and I couldn’t place my hopes on them.
The snakes on our tree were climbing upward, but only on this particular tree; those on the neighboring tree remained at the lower half of its trunk. However, I quickly realized why these snakes weren’t climbing higher—they struggled to ascend along the straight trunk and often fell into the water below. This gave me an idea: perhaps they couldn’t make it up.
That thought was soon brutally shattered. Despite their slow and laborious ascent, the red snakes were steadily and resolutely approaching us.
I interrupted the arguing Lao People by shining my flashlight down below for them to see, signaling that they needed to take action quickly.
The two Lao People looked even more distressed and let out a few sighs; I guessed they were cursing under their breath. However, this sight halted their argument. Buasong immediately crawled to the end of this branch, took out a rope, swung it a few times, and threw it toward a branch on the neighboring tree.
The end of the rope must have had a hook or something similar; it wrapped around the branch across from us securely. Buasong pulled on it a few times with force and then jumped over using the elasticity of the branch. On the other side was a large broadleaf tree; Buasong grabbed onto a branch and swung himself up before tossing the rope back.
The other Lao Person handed me the rope and gestured for me to jump first. I didn’t have their skills; using the branch’s elasticity to leap over was beyond me. Instead, I could only swing over like Tarzan, hoping that the branch on the other side was sturdy enough.
I tightened my grip on the rope and suddenly swung toward the other side. It was too dark; I didn’t dare use my One-Eyed Beast for illumination for fear of crashing into a tree and jamming it down my throat. The glow stick in Buasong's hand emitted too dim a light; by the time I saw the trunk ahead of me, my head had already collided with it.
I silently congratulated myself for being so foresighted—thankfully, I hadn’t bitten down on my flashlight.
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