Send them back out

The acrid smoke from the hastily doused fire hung in the air, a testament to their recent panic. The students and adults huddled around the carcass of the giant herbivore, the brief, joyous relief of their successful hunt now completely replaced by a cold, stomach-churning dread.

Mallory Weiss's words still hung in the air, a defiant, pragmatic demand amidst the terror. It was a sentiment no one could argue with. The recon team couldn't go out on an empty stomach and left many of the shocked students to laugh and start to break the tension as they started to no longer feel as drained by negative emotions, for a brief moment, but we both know they will start to act like headless chickens before long. I mean it in their nature as my food, and there are not as many outliers as they wish there to be.

The cooking club members worked to carve off cooked portions of the meat for the three scouts, while the rest of the group watched with a mixture of hope and fear, their trust now placed entirely on the shoulders of these three students. They are slowly starting to get their act together and getting ready to move at any moment, and to store the rest of the food for later.

"A new deal, a compromise!" The Great I, commented, observing this new development from my couch. "How delightfully political! We both know politics go nowhere at this time in the story. They can't agree on one suicidal plan, so they agree on… well, they've only agreed on a slightly delayed suicidal plan. The little Roadrunner demands a last meal! Fair enough! But the Wasp Queen, I see, is not yet satisfied with this little bit of espionage. Oh no, she has grander ambitions!"

As Shirou, Katy, and Mal sat slightly apart, forcing down mouthfuls of the well-prepared and charred meat, Mrs. Weiss approached Ms. Linz, her expression sharp and calculating as usual when she had some plan.

Her husband, Brett, was still silent at her side. What? He doesn’t wear the pants in this family. Does that mean he has taken up the moniker of the spouse she is seen as and head, in some human cultures? Or maybe he dreams of being a bouncer, or perhaps he doesn’t have much to say now after his transformation. Is there any real thought passing through that mind or shell of his?

Ah, I started to babble again, while dictating. You know it has been some time… Back to the story.

"That's not enough," Mrs. Winifred Weiss, the Jeweled Wasp, stated, stepping forward. The parts of her iridescent carapace seemed to absorb the dim light, making her stand out, and her antennae twitched impatiently. She wasn't addressing Ms. Linz directly, but the group, her gaze sweeping over all hybrids.

"A single ground team is too slow," she continued, her voice brooking no argument. "They're limited by terrain, by what they can see from behind a rock. They might get a glimpse of the camp, but we'll learn nothing of their movements, their patrol routes, or their true operational scope. It's a keyhole view when we need a panoramic one."

Ms. Linz turned, her smile tight with frustration. "Winifred, it's a reconnaissance mission, not a cartography project. The goal is to assess the immediate threat without being seen. Sending more people is making a bigger footprint, which is reckless."

"And what's reckless," Mrs. Weiss countered, her voice dangerously smooth, "is remaining ignorant. What's reckless is planning an escape with only half the necessary intelligence. While your 'stealth team' is crawling on their bellies to peek at some tents and human statues, we could have eyes in the sky mapping their entire network." She gestured towards the Wrights, Jerry and Jane, who watched the exchange. "We have assets we are not utilizing effectively. We need a simultaneous aerial mission."

The proposal split the already fractured adult group.

"She's right," Carlos Alfonsi, the Wolf-hybrid, growled, his amber eyes fixed on Mrs. Weiss with clear approval. "We need to know where they're going, not just where they're sitting."

"It's too dangerous!" another student cried out. "What about that giant green bird? We can't just send people up into the open sky!"

"That's a risk we have to weigh against the certainty of stumbling into a soldier patrol because we didn't know their route," Mrs. Weiss retorted coolly.

Ms. Linz looked at the faces around her, seeing the clear divide. Mrs. Weiss's aggressive pragmatism was openly challenging her cautious approach. To refuse would risk an open mutiny; to agree felt like sending more of her students and friends into mortal danger. Coach Roberts and Mr. Decker exchanged worried glances, caught in the middle. Finally, Ms. Linz let out a slow, defeated sigh.

"Fine," she said, her voice heavy. "Alright. We will establish a two-pronged approach. But we need to have strict parameters that we will set." She fixed her gaze on Jane Wright. "Jane, you and Jerry have the best capabilities for high-altitude observation. Your mission is to map patrol routes only and from a safe altitude. You see that giant green bird, you dive for the trees, no questions asked."

Then she turned back to the ground team. "Shirou, Katy, Mal. Your mission stands. Get a close-up assessment of their numbers, technology, and defenses. But you are not to engage. You are information gatherers, nothing more."

The two missions were set, born not of a unified strategy but of a tense, reluctant compromise between two opposing philosophies and two rival leaders. The group was now acting on two fronts, their fragile unity stretched even thinner, and their chances of survival were now dependent on two separate, incredibly dangerous gambles.

As the two newly formed recon teams made their final preparations, a tense quiet fell over the meadow camp. The main group watched, their faces a mixture of hope and fear. The air team — Jerry and Jane Wright, with Stephani Watt settling onto Jerry’s broad, albatross-feathered back — stood apart, their gazes already fixed on the sky. The ground team — Shirou, Katy, and Mallory — checked their basic supplies once over: a single shared water-skin, a few sharpened sticks, some leaves wrapping some cooked meat, silk thread rope, a couple of stones, charcoal, and the heavy weight of their mission.

"And so, the pawns are arranged on the board," The Great I said, observing the scene with the detached interest of a grandmaster. "Two separate gambits, each with a delightful potential for catastrophic failure. However, the true game, as always, is not just against the external foe, but within the players' hearts. And the Wasp Queen," I noted with a smirk, "is about to make another play."

Just as Ms. Linz was giving Shirou a final, whispered instruction to be careful, Winifred Weiss glided over to her daughter, Mallory. She placed a hand on Mal’s shoulder, her touch light but firm, and steered her a few paces away from Shirou and Katy, into a pocket of relative privacy behind a large, moss-covered rock. Brett Weiss, her Cone Snail husband, moved to stand nearby, his silent, armored presence acting as a clear 'do not disturb' sign to anyone who might think of approaching.

Mrs. Weiss leaned in close, her iridescent carapace gleaming, her voice a low, intense buzz meant for Mal's ears alone. "Mallory, you listen to me," she began, “Ms. Linz and her cautious little committee want information. That is fine. You will give it to them. But I need something else, something more."

Mal looked at her mother, her facial feathers slightly raised in confusion and apprehension. "More? What do you mean?"

"Don't just watch the camp, Mallory," Mrs. Weiss insisted, her eyes boring into her daughter's. "Pay attention to the patrols. I need to know their size and composition. Do they send out pairs? Lone messengers? Do they have blind spots, which weapons and number of armaments are carried by which patrols or units? What units of men are placed around the camp?" Her grip on Mal's shoulder tightened almost imperceptibly. "Your speed can be our greatest asset, not for you running away, but for finding an opportunity to observe and stay out of their sight. Please, find me a weak link. A small, isolated target. Note their equipment and how they react when they think they're alone. Find me a vulnerability we can exploit."

"Oh, a secret mission within the mission!" I chortled with delight. "The Wasp Queen gives her little Roadrunner princess her real orders! Forget passive observation, find me a target! The seeds of future aggression, mutiny, and glorious, violent conflict are being sown right here and now! Delicious!"

Mal felt a chill run down her spine that had nothing to do with the wind. This wasn't what Ms. Linz had asked for. This was something else entirely. "Mom, that's… that's not what we're supposed to do. Ms. Linz said—"

"Ms. Linz," Mrs. Weiss cut her off with a voice like ice, "is the main reason for our suffering and starving daily lives. Her paranoia is a luxury we can no longer afford. We need to be strong, we need to be smart, and we need to be ruthless. You will do as I say." She gave Mal's shoulder a final, firm squeeze. "I have faith in you, my dear daughter. I know you won't disappoint me. And," she added, her eyes flicking dismissively towards Shirou, "keep an eye on that fox boy. His 'luck' seems to attract nothing but trouble. Don't let him compromise your mission."

With that, she released her daughter. Mallory stood frozen for a moment, the weight of her mother's expectations a heavy, poisonous cloak. She was caught between two leaders, two philosophies, her own fear, and a terrifying new objective. With a reluctant, almost invisible nod, she turned and rejoined Shirou and Katy, her face pale, her earlier energy now drained by an unknown silence of the coming future.

The two teams departed in opposite directions. The Wrights, with Stephani as their silent observer, launched into the air with powerful wingbeats, climbing high and banking to the south to begin a wide, circling observation of the entire region. Shirou, Katy, and a now strangely quiet Mallory slipped back into the treeline, their goal to re-establish a hidden observation post overlooking the soldiers' camp.

The hours that followed were laced with agonizing tension. The air itself seemed different here, carrying the faint, sterile scent of ozone and hot metal that clung to the soldiers' camp, a smell that scraped at the back of their throats. Below, the low, menacing hum of the power conduits was a constant, unnerving presence, a sound that felt utterly alien in this wild world. The ground team lay motionless on a wooded ridge, the sounds of the enemy camp a low, menacing hum below. They watched the clockwork patrols, the silent efficiency of the drones, the cold, impassive movements of the soldiers. Mallory, driven by her mother's command, took small, calculated risks, using her roadrunner speed to dart between patches of cover, getting closer than the others dared, her eyes scanning for the "weak link" her mother demanded. She noted a two-soldier patrol that seemed to follow a predictable, isolated route along the far western edge of the camp. The information burned in her mind, a toxic secret.

Meanwhile, high above, the world unfolded in a terrifying panorama for the aerial team. Jerry’s powerful, steady albatross wings carried them in wide, energy-conserving arcs, while Jane’s sharper, more agile eagle form allowed for tighter, more focused observation. Stephani Watt, perched securely on Jerry’s broad back, was a silent, all-seeing turret, her head swiveling in a slow, constant, unnerving rotation.

“Steady, Jane. Altitude first,” Jerry’s voice was a calm rumble, carried on the wind. “We’re no good to them if we’re spotted.”

“I know that, love,” she called back, her voice sharp, cutting. “Just… look at the skies. So open and the ground so vast, I can see our targeted mountains even better from up here. It really is a shame that we have to look down.” Below them, the soldiers' camp was a malignant circuit board carved into the green landscape, the patrol routes fanning out like deadly highways carrying their destruction. For a long while, they circled, their initial terror giving way to methodical focus. They were a team, a partnership honed by years of marriage, now tested in this impossible new reality.

“They’re very predictable,” Jane noted after another wide pass, her eagle eyes having memorized the patterns. “Three-man patrol teams, every two hours, covering the same ground. They’re almost as reliable and consistent as the city bus in its planned-out route.”

“And that’s why we need to find the weakness they have so we can pass through their net,” Jerry countered grimly, his own gaze sweeping the vastness below. “They must be overconfident as they are relying on only one pattern for their patrol. And that overconfidence will create blind spots for us. We have to find one, Jane. For Martin's sake, and for everyone else's.”

A sharp, piercing hoot cut through the wind's roar, making Jane's head snap around. It was Stephani, perched on Jerry's back, her wide owl eyes fixed on the camp below. "Jane," she called, her voice now raised to be heard over the wind, "Look. A new group is leaving the camp. It's bigger, and they're heading straight towards the class."

Jane banked sharply, her eagle eyes narrowing with intense focus, the world below resolving with a clarity no human could ever achieve. She saw the new patrol not as a block but as individuals. "Nineteen," she stated, her voice cold and precise. "Nineteen soldiers, full combat gear. They're not on a standard patrol route. They're moving directly west, into the meadow."

"That can’t be a patrol," Jane's voice was a sharp crackle over the wind. "That must be a hunting party. Do you think they found the camp somehow?"

On the ridge, the ground team saw it at the same time. The sight sent a jolt of pure, ice-cold adrenaline through them. Shirou felt the blood drain from his face. Katy’s fur bristled, a low growl caught in her throat. Mallory’s roadrunner instincts screamed at her to flee, a silent shriek of terror. They hadn't been spotted. The horrifying realization struck them all at once: this wasn't a reaction to their presence. It was simply their turn. The soldiers' methodical sweep of the territory had finally reached their location, and their time, measured in the few precious minutes it would take that hunting party to cross the meadow, had just run its course.

"We have to warn them!" Shirou gasped, his heart leaping into his throat.

The retreat was a frantic, desperate race against time. Mallory’s speed was no longer for spying and darting about but for sheer flight. She burst from the treeline, a blur of motion, racing across the open meadow, a living arrow aimed at her friends.

Shirou and Katy followed, pushing their own bodies to their limits. High above, the Wrights banked sharply, diving back towards the clearing in the meadow over the next hill, their forms a clear, desperate signal of imminent danger.

The main group was in a state of near-euphoria, the scent of roasting meat still filling the air, a student laughing at a joke. They saw the diving birds first, then the frantic, sprinting forms of the ground team, and a confused silence began to fall. The laughter died in their throats as they recognized the sheer, animal terror on the scouts' faces. Something was terribly wrong. The fragile sense of security was shattered. Panic, cold and immediate, took hold.

"They're coming! A patrol, a big one, heading right for us!" Mallory shrieked as she skidded to a halt in the center of the camp, her chest heaving.

There was no time for debate, no room for factional squabbles. There was only the stark, brutal truth: they had to run for it.

"QUIET!" Coach Roberts roared, his voice a thunderclap that cut through the rising panic, silencing the first whimpers of mindless flight. "Panic and you die! We have minutes, maybe less. We make them count!" He pointed a thick finger at Rex Bouras and a few others near the carcass. "Cleanup! Make that kill look like scavengers hit it! Tear it up, scatter the bones, kick dirt over the blood! Now!" He then jabbed a finger towards the sputtering fire. "Fire team! Douse it, bury it, cover it with turf! No trace!"

The order, sharp and tactical, was a bucket of ice water on their hysteria. A frantic chaos erupted. Rex and the others fell upon the carcass, their claws and fangs tearing and shredding the meat to mimic a wild feeding frenzy. Others frantically smothered the fire, scattering the ashes and replacing the scorched earth with fresh turf. The majority of the destroyed carcass was then thrown onto the overturned earth to cover it and make the scene seem more readable at first sight.

"The herd!" Mrs. Weiss snapped, her eyes gleaming with cold, pragmatic fire. "Arthur, Carlos, go and spook them! Drive them towards the soldiers! A stampede will cover our tracks and create a diversion!"

The rest of the group grabbed what they could — the wounded, the precious water-skins, and hastily wrapped bundles of the salvaged meat. As Arthur and Carlos raced towards the grazing herd, their shrieks and aggressive postures sending the horned beasts into a panicked, thundering stampede aimed east over the hill, the main group plunged back into the suffocating green hell of the jungle, fleeing southeastward. The meadow, the site of their great victory, had become the stage for their most desperate gamble. The exodus had resumed, more hopeless than ever before.