Story 1285: Feral Children

They found the children by accident.

After the battle at the Signal Pit, the Rustborn regrouped in scattered clusters, and Juno—bandaged, silent, different—walked without speaking. The glow beneath her skin had faded, but something in her stare had sharpened. She felt every grain of ash beneath her boots, every shift of wind like it was speaking in code.

The party moved westward into a ruined orchard—a place once used to test biogrowth algorithms. Now, only crooked trees remained, some growing upside down, others bearing fruit with teeth.

That’s where they first heard the laughter.

Not joyful. Not playful.

It was mocking—a chorus of small voices layered over the wind like static.

Shade raised his rifle, scanning the treetops. “That’s not birds.”

H-13 pinged movement. “Multiple lifeforms. Small. Rapid. No verbal language. No threat posture… yet.”

Suddenly, a blur dropped from above.