Moss

They take the medicine to Yumi and she visits with her. Halo sits on the edge of the cot, handing over the medicine they risked so much to find. Yumi’s face is pale but smiling as the bitter taste fades from her tongue. 
          “It’s been so boring without anyone here,” Yumi whines. 
          “Seriously?” Halo is surprised to hear that, grossed out even. She hadn’t considered Thorn, he’s the commander after all. 
          “Are there any guys here that you’ve bonded with?” 
          “Bonded with?” she immediately thinks of rubble, gets flustered and shakes her head at the thought. “No, I’m scared of losing people again.” 
          “Hmm… You get this look on your face when you’re thinking about someone. It’s Thorn isn’t it?!” Halo is surprised to hear that, grossed out even. She hadn’t considered Thorn, he’s the commander after all. 
          “You know who I like?” Yumi says, her cheeks tinting with color. “The cowboy.” 
          Halo blinks. 
          Benji? Really?  
          She tries, truly tries, to picture him in an attractive way: his sweaty hair under his hat, his loud laugh, the way he chews on straw like he’s auditioning for a role in a bad play. 
          Nope. Can’t do it.  
          But she smiles anyway. “I say go for it. When you’re back on your feet, you should talk to him.” 
          Yumi grins, pulling the blanket up under her chin. “You think so?” 
          “I know so,” Halo says firmly, even as she hides her amusement. 
          They chat a while longer about half-serious dreams, until the door creaks open. Benji steps inside, a little awkward, a bunch of wildflowers clutched in his calloused hand. 
          Yumi goes wide-eyed, nearly sinking into the pillow. 
          Halo rises from her chair and flashes a mischievous grin at Yumi, the kind that says good luck without words, and slips out the door, leaving the flowers and the flustered blushes behind. 
          As exhausted as the team is, their work for the day isn’t finished. Muscles ache, tempers run short, and the grime of the ruined city still clings to their clothes. But survival doesn’t wait. Most of the hunters had been with Thorn in the city that morning, which means only a handful were left to provide fresh meat for the community and there are still mouths to feed. 
          So, weary though they are, the team arms themselves again: bows for rabbits and fowl, rifles for deer, spears for the fish beyond the shore. They set out from Ossamaris once more, the weight of duty heavier than their packs. 
          They pass the farms first, where families bend low over rows of hardy vegetables, hands stained with soil as baskets fill slowly beside them. Children tug at weeds under the watchful eyes of elders, their small laughter muted by hunger. A few lift their heads to wave as the hunters pass, but there’s no cheer in it, only the weary acknowledgment of people who know how much depends on what returns with them. 
          Beyond the last rows of crops, the land grows wilder, the air carrying the sharp scent of damp earth and moss. Every step forward is a step away from safety. 
          The forest looms on one side, dark with ivy and mossy trunks, while open meadow rolls toward the distant shore. The group halts, quietly checking their gear. Thorn shoulders a rifle, its strap patched and fraying. Benji grins, twirling an arrow between his fingers. Others heft spears, their tips honed sharp not only for game, but for Skelloids should they appear. 
          “Remember,” Thorn warns in a low voice, “the Skelloids hunt too. If we’re chasing deer, we’re not the only ones. Keep your eyes open.” 
          They spread out, vanishing into the trees. The silence of the hunt is broken only by the occasional snap of a twig or the lap of waves. Every sound makes Halo’s pulse quicken, because in this world, a snapped branch might mean a deer… or something else. 
          A pair of rabbits dart through the brush, quick flashes of brown. Halo fumbles an arrow into place, drawing the bowstring back. The shot looses, skimming past the rabbit and sinking into the dirt. The animals vanish, leaving her frustrated. 
          On the shore, Dosei wades knee-deep into the surf, spear poised. He waits with patient precision until blue flickers dart beneath him. With a swift jab, he impales a fish at, its scales glinting like shards of glass in the sunlight. 
          From the forest comes the distant crack of a rifle. A crow takes flight from the trees, scattering feathers. Halo wonders if it was a deer, or something worse? 
          Moments later, Thorn emerges, dragging a small buck behind him. 
          Halo drifts down a narrow path past the meadow, the same one where the rabbits had darted off. She’s never been this way before. Her mind can’t focus on the task, every thought drifts back to Rubble, to the missing pieces he needs to walk again. The need gnaws at her, pulling her focus away. 
          A sudden crash shatters her thoughts. Instinct takes over. She drops her bow, sliding the rifle from her shoulder in one fluid motion. The wood is cool against her cheek as she crouches low and peers through the scope. Through the glass she sees it: a Skelloid. Not orange, not yellow—green. Its translucent slime shimmers in the fractured sunlight as it stoops, prying up fallen tree trunks as though they weigh nothing. With slow, deliberate movements, it tears moss from the ground in thick clumps and shoves it into its mouth. 
          Halo blinks. A bewildered laugh slips out before she can stop it. A vegetarian Skelloid? 
          The Skelloid freezes. Slowly, its head tilts up, and looks in her direction. 
          For a heartbeat she forgets to move. It tilts it’s head while still chewing on the moss. Timidly, Halo lowers the rifle and raises her free hand in the faintest wave. 
          The Skelloid doesn’t react at first, as though it’s processing what this gesture means. Then, hesitantly, it sluggishly lifts its long green arm and mirrors her wave. 
          She rises to her feet. The Skelloid does the same, like a delayed reflection. 
          No way. 
          Her eyes catch on something she’s never seen before, a glimmering spherical core, glowing faintly in the Skelloid’s chest. None of the Skelloids she has encountered has one of these things in them. The creature waits patiently as she studies it. 
          “Why aren’t you attacking me?” she whispers. 
          The creature doesn’t answer. It only watches, head cocked in eerie silence. 
          Very slowly, Halo steps closer, her heart pounding harder with every inch. Within arm’s reach now, she raises a trembling hand and brushes its surface. The slime is slick and cool, speckled with clinging leaves and stray bits of moss. 
          Suddenly, the Skelloid lifts its arms. Halo gasps and stumbles backward, panic rising, until it pauses, keeping one hand extended. With startling gentleness, it plucks her from the ground and raises her high into the air. Halo screams, legs kicking, but almost as quickly it lowers her back to the ground, setting her down unharmed. 
          Breathless, she steadies herself. The Skelloid tilts its head, curious. Then it rips a clump of moss from the soil and extends it toward her, an awkward offering. 
          “Oh… no thank you,” she says, still shaken. 
          It retracts its hand and, with deliberate care, leans backward until it drops into a sitting position. The ground trembles beneath her boots at the impact. 
          “You’re very graceful,” Halo laughs nervously. The Skelloid doesn’t respond, just stuffs another handful of moss into its mouth. 
          A smile tugs at her lips. “I’m naming you Moss.” 
          In the distance, a sharp whistle splits the air. The signal to return. 
          “I didn’t catch anything,” Halo mutters, disappointed. 
          The Skelloid pauses mid-bite, then sluggishly rises to its feet. With a startling motion, it reaches into the trees and plucks a squirrel by its tail, dangling it in front of her. 
          “T-Thanks,” Halo stammers, taking the small animal by the shoulders. Her eyes widen. “You… understood what I said?” 
          The whistle blows again, sharper this time. Halo glances toward the meadow, then back at the creature. She lifts her hand in a small wave. “I gotta go. Bye, Moss.” 
          The Skelloid stares for a long moment before, almost reluctantly, it raises one massive hand and mirrors her wave. 
          Halo turns, clutching the squirming squirrel, and walks back toward the meadow. Her mind spins with scattered thoughts. 
          As the group regathers, their baskets hold rabbits, fish, and what meat they could salvage from the deer. Enough to feed Ossamaris for tonight. They’re excited for their haul, but the silence of the woods presses in again, and everyone knows the truth: sooner or later, the Skelloids will come looking for their share.