They had made it to the flats, where deep soil gave the trees enough purchase to reach huge heights. Most of the boles here had to be five, even six meters in diameter. The light had grown dim, blocked by the thick, high canopy. In the twilight, four-winged fliers kept darting through the hanging vines, snatching at flying invertebrates. The chime had changed, ominous, deeper in bass.

Talina sniffed. “Wait. Slow down. Smell it, Dek?”

“Yeah,” he told her, shifting his hat back, raising his face to scent the air.

“Valdez,” Muldare growled, “What did I tell you about roots and stopping and staring around like a five-year-old?”

“Roger that, Sarge. I’m moving.”

As she padded forward, Talina pointed between the thick boles of the giant trees. “Just up ahead. But I don’t like that root knot. Something . . .”

“What?” Muldare asked. “I’m scanning with IR and UV. I get nothing but background.”

“Go around,” Dek said.

“Even if there’s nothing there?” Valdez was craning her head, scanning the heights.

“Kid,” Muldare said, “If Tal or Dek have a hunch, we follow it.”

As Muldare led the way to the right, they had to cross an interlaced mat of barrel-thick roots that often had them a couple of meters above the forest floor.

Talina saw the tentacle lash out from below, slap onto Muldare’s back, and struggle to jab a line of barbs into the marine’s armor.

In a flash, Talina pulled her knife, got her footing, and with a slash, severed the tentacle where it stuck out from the depths. Something down in the darkness issued a piercing squeal, and the tentacle dropped away, twisting and whipping this way and that. In the process, it smacked the toe of Talina’s boot, leaving barbs protruding from the thick leather.

“What the hell was that?” Dek asked, looking down uncertainly into the black gaps beneath.

“Haven’t a clue. Don’t want to find out,” Valdez told him soberly.

“Let’s get the hell off of this root mat before whatever it is tries again,” Talina said as she tried to look down on all sides at once, her knife at the ready.

Muldare led the way, finally clambering down the roots, smashing something mindful of a slug that stuck to her arm as she did. With a gloved hand she wiped the thing’s guts off her armor. “Don’t make that mistake.”

“We won’t,” Dek promised, carefully picking his route as he climbed down.

Talina followed, rifle in one hand, knife in the other.

“Smell that?” Dek asked as they started across the flat between the trees. The air was coming from off to their right. The odor was distinct.

“Got it,” Talina agreed.

“What is it?” Muldare asked, slowing, bringing her rifle up.

“Dried blood,” Tal told her. “Human blood. Whatever happened, it’s right over there, on the other side of that big tangle of roots.”