Chapter 5: The Lure of the Unseen

The forest had always been a place of life, full of rustling leaves, chirping birds, and the constant movement of creatures big and small. But as the days passed, a strange quiet had settled over the trees, a stillness that weighed heavily on the air. The infected Jagras, their movements growing more fluid and unnatural, had begun their task in earnest.They moved in the shadows, their bodies no longer the stiff, hesitant things they had been. The infection was changing them—slowly, imperceptibly—making them more deliberate in their actions. They were no longer just predators; they were hunters of a different kind. It was not the pack they craved now; it was something more—a tool to manipulate, a way to lure.The forest, dense and dark with thick foliage, provided the perfect cover. Beneath the canopy, the smallest creatures scuttled about—Mernos, Mosswine, and the occasional lone Jagras—blissfully unaware of the danger that lurked in the shadows. The infected Jagras had become adept at hiding, slipping through the undergrowth with the precision of a predator that no longer hunted for survival alone, but for the expansion of its power.The first target was a group of Mernos, their small, rodent-like bodies darting in and out of the underbrush. The infected had learned the art of mimicry well. They crouched low, their bodies trembling with the intensity of their focus. A deep, low growl slipped from one's throat—a sound that echoed the voice of a Jagras but was twisted with an unnatural rasp. It was a call, not meant to attract the attention of the pack, but of the prey.The Mernos, curious but cautious, paused. Their beady eyes flicked toward the source of the sound, then to the shadows where the infected Jagras lay in wait. The call came again, softer this time, coaxing them closer. One by one, the Mernos hesitated, their tiny bodies bristling with nervous energy. But the call was too enticing. It promised safety, warmth, and food, and so they moved closer.At the moment they drew near, the infected Jagras struck—quick as a flash. One leaped from the brush, its mouth snapping shut around a Merno's throat, and another lunged forward, locking onto the leg of a second. Their jaws were swift, brutal, but there was no frantic tearing, no violent struggle. Instead, the infected Jagras' tendrils erupted from beneath their skin, curling around the Mernos' limbs and constricting them into stillness.The tendrils pulsed as they began to bind the creatures, weaving tightly through fur and muscle, sealing wounds with unnatural precision. The Mernos squirmed, but their efforts to escape were futile. The infected Jagras did not consume them immediately. They were too useful, too important for what was to come. Instead, the smaller creatures were bound in place, their bodies turning still as the infection began to take root.The infected Jagras did not linger. They moved on swiftly, silent as shadows, leaving the Mernos to writhe quietly in their bonds. They made no sound—only the faint rustle of leaves as they slipped into the trees. The next phase of the plan had already begun. The infected would need more.As they moved deeper into the forest, the infected Jagras gathered more small creatures. Each capture was a careful process, each call a measured note designed to pull them closer. The mimicry had become perfected, the sounds of the Jagras no longer just an imitation of their kin but a lure, a dangerous song that the creatures could not resist.Next, they encountered a lone Mosswine, rooting through the underbrush. The infected Jagras watched from the shadows, calculating, waiting for the right moment. As the Mosswine dug its snout into the earth, oblivious to the predators near, one of the infected Jagras stepped forward. Its vocalization was low, deep, almost soothing—a call that mimicked the sounds of a distant herd. The Mosswine paused, ears twitching in curiosity.The infected Jagras moved closer, and with a burst of speed, it lunged. The Mosswine squealed, its legs kicking wildly, but it was too late. Tendrils shot forward, wrapping around the creature's limbs and pulling it to the ground. The Mosswine struggled, its thick hide too tough to be easily pierced, but the infected Jagras was patient. The tendrils pulled tighter, not to kill, but to subdue.The creature would be a valuable tool for spreading the infection. Its size and resilience made it perfect for surviving in the thick forest, a roaming vessel that could carry the parasite far from the source.But the infected Jagras did not stop there. They turned their attention to other prey, smaller, more vulnerable creatures. Each one was captured, infected, and bound into servitude. The plan was coming together—layer by layer, creature by creature.As they continued their work, the infected Jagras began to move with more certainty, their once-cautious steps now firm, their presence more assured. They were no longer simply carrying out an instinct; they were preparing. Preparing for the attack that was soon to come.With the small creatures now under their control, the next step was to draw the pack in—to lure them into the forest's depths. The ambush was set, and all that remained was the waiting.