Infiltration Rumors

Early morning light filtered through the orchard settlement's battered walls, illuminating the new watchtowers and farmland rows that had largely returned to quiet normalcy. Despite the orchard's forward momentum—alliances with Redwood, progress in farmland expansions, and hopes of forging or carpentry skills from distant enclaves—an undercurrent of anxiety still pulsed. Once infiltration nearly destroyed them; no one dared forget that possibility.

The trouble surfaced just after dawn, when a pair of orchard workers discovered that several bags of seed stock and a small stash of ration bars were missing from the main storeroom. At first, orchard staff assumed an inventory mix-up or some orchard donkey mishap. But upon closer inspection, they found subtle signs of forced entry: a padlock partially broken, footprints that didn't match the orchard watchers on duty. Quiet alarm rippled through the orchard staff, orchard donkey braying faintly as though sensing the tension.

Mark arrived at the storeroom, orchard watchers trailing. He examined the damaged padlock, brow furrowing. "We've had leftover sabotage before. Could be infiltration or just a random thief. But after Redwood's gifts, we can't ignore the pattern—someone's taking supplies from within."

Orchard workers whispered among themselves, orchard donkey stomping near a water trough. Harriet's group, busy with farmland tasks, cast anxious glances. Tamsin's watchers prowled the perimeter, scanning for infiltration signs or fresh footprints. Meanwhile, orchard donkey brays punctuated the hush, as though urging caution.

Leila arrived soon after, stiff-backed from the prior day's revelations about roving scavengers. She studied the orchard donkey munching calmly, then turned to Mark. "Have we lost anything critical? Seeds or rations we can't replace?"

Mark shook his head, swallowing frustration. "A small chunk of Redwood's gifted seeds, plus some orchard rations. Nothing massive, but it's the second time in a week that goods disappeared without explanation."

Leila's pulse quickened. Infiltration or sabotage. The orchard's dreaded ghosts reappeared. She forced a measured breath. "We can't dismiss it. Minor theft might signal infiltration. Jace could still have a spy feeding him info."

As orchard staff murmured anxious theories—maybe Harriet's group? Tamsin's watchers?—Darren stepped forward, his expression hardening. "I'll investigate thoroughly. Check storeroom logs, cross-reference watchers' shifts, see who had access. We can't let infiltration root here again."

Leila gave a curt nod, orchard donkey flicking its ears behind her. "Yes. Keep Tamsin's watchers in the loop, so we avoid blame games. Harriet's group has integrated well, but infiltration suspicion might lead to conflict if we're not transparent."

Darren clutched a small notepad. "Will do. We'll verify orchard watchers on duty, Harriet's group's bunk rosters, even orchard staff's daily tasks. No one's above suspicion until we see proof."

Mark exhaled slowly. "This couldn't come at a worse time. We're forging alliances, Redwood just gave us seeds, and we're planning expansions. If infiltration flares, it shatters the orchard's trust again."

Leila chewed her lip, recalling how infiltration once sabotaged their gates, letting undead in. She steeled herself. "We remain calm. The orchard donkey's still here, farmland's stable. We have watchers, alarm systems. Let's not panic, but we can't ignore infiltration rumors."

Rumors quickly spread among orchard staff, watchers, Harriet's group, even Tamsin's faction. Whispers claimed Jace might still have a spy inside the orchard, feeding him updates or siphoning supplies to weaken them. Harriet's people bristled at suspicious looks from Tamsin's watchers, orchard donkey snorting at the tension whenever staff argued.

One orchard worker insisted Harriet's group couldn't be infiltration suspects—they had fought valiantly during the siege. Another orchard staff pointed at Tamsin's watchers, murmuring they'd once been so paranoid, might infiltration ironically come from them? Tamsin's watchers stiffened, bristling at the suggestion.

Leila roamed the courtyard, orchard donkey in the background, watchers posted on the ramparts. She felt a surge of frustration—the orchard settlement had found unity after Jace's siege, yet infiltration rumors threatened to unravel that fragile peace. I can't let sabotage break us again, she vowed.

By midday, Darren's investigation was in full swing—he prowled storerooms, quizzed watchers, scrutinized orchard donkey stable logs. Harriet's group cooperated, orchard staff gave statements, Tamsin's watchers double-checked infiltration protocols. Yet no clear suspect emerged. Everyone seemed genuinely alarmed by the theft.

Fiona joined Leila near a half-collapsed orchard shed, orchard donkey tethered to a fence post. "This is exactly what we feared," Fiona said, voice tight with worry. "Someone's sneaking around or infiltration is at play. All we have is minor theft, but it needles at old wounds."

Leila nodded, scanning the orchard staff who whispered about infiltration angles. "Yes. We've only begun to trust each other fully. If infiltration suspicion grows, Tamsin's watchers might push for total lockdown." Her jaw clenched. "That could sabotage alliances with Redwood or Sunridge enclaves. We can't let that happen."

Fiona sighed. "Let's see if Darren unearths any leads. Meanwhile, we reassure orchard staff to remain calm. Could be some petty thief or a wanderer sneaking in from outside. Doesn't have to be infiltration from Jace."

Leila forced a faint smile. Or it could be exactly infiltration from Jace, her mind whispered. She nodded, orchard donkey flicking its tail as if to lighten the mood. But the tension in the orchard air remained thick.

Late afternoon found Leila pacing the orchard fence line, orchard donkey braying occasionally as orchard staff corralled it away from the main gate. She paused near one of the partially finished watchtowers, scanning farmland edges where watchers patrolled. Her chest felt constricted, the swirl of infiltration fear pressing in. If Jace truly has a spy, we're vulnerable.

Kai approached quietly, footsteps soft on the trampled ground. Her shoulders tensed involuntarily before recognizing him. He dipped his head in greeting, voice gentle. "I heard about the theft. Darren's investigating. How're you holding up?"

A wave of conflicting emotion welled in her. She recalled their synergy, how he'd saved her from infiltration nightmares before. She forced a measured tone, determined not to appear dependent. "I'm… concerned. The orchard can't handle infiltration again, especially with expansions underway."

Kai nodded, gaze flicking to orchard watchers posted nearby. "I get it. But we overcame infiltration before. We'll do it again. You don't have to carry the entire burden alone."

Her throat constricted—a familiar warmth threatened to unravel her guarded stance. "Thanks, but I need to remain vigilant," she murmured, eyes drifting to orchard donkey rummaging near the stable. "We can't let infiltration roil everything we've built."

His concern softened his features. "Leila, you can rely on me. At least let me share the weight. I… I worry when you hold it all inside."

Her chest tightened. She recalled the near brush with an undead straggler days before, how old betrayal fears gripped her. She hesitated, wanting to confide in him—but infiltration paranoia told her not to show vulnerability. In a small step forward, she offered a quiet, awkward gratitude. "I appreciate that, truly."

He gave a small, reassuring smile, orchard donkey letting out a mild bray in the distance. "I'm here anytime," he said softly, reading the fleeting softness in her eyes. She offered no more words, but the tension in her shoulders eased a fraction. She allowed his presence to anchor her for a moment.

As twilight descended, orchard watchers finished their patrol, orchard donkey settled into its pen for the night, orchard staff parted ways with Harriet's group to bunk down or share a simple meal. Tamsin's watchers lingered near the main gate, infiltration suspicion fueling their vigilance. Darren's investigation turned up only partial footprints in the storeroom, inconclusive, fueling more suspicion but no definitive culprit.

Leila presided over a brief courtyard assembly, orchard staff gripped by worry. She spoke calmly, explaining that infiltration protocols would be tightened, watchers posted on every storeroom, gates locked at dusk, orchard donkey stable under watch. "We stand together," she said, letting her voice carry. "We overcame sabotage once. We'll do it again if we must. No infiltration or roving band will break this orchard."

Faces brightened slightly—her leadership, firm and resolute, gave orchard staff hope. Harriet's group listened attentively, orchard donkey braying as if applauding. Tamsin's watchers nodded, though tension remained. The assembly dispersed with a subdued vow to remain unified.

Night fell, orchard walls glowing under torches, watchtowers manned by orchard watchers scanning for infiltration or undead. Tamsin's faction patrolled storehouses, ensuring no more supplies vanished. Harriet's group turned in, orchard donkey dozing contentedly. The orchard settlement ended another day on edge—the specter of infiltration rumors overshadowing their new alliances.

In her makeshift office near the orchard's central compound, Leila slumped in a chair, reviewing the day's orchard donkey logs, farmland progress, infiltration checks. A swirl of dread churned within—could Jace truly have a spy? She recalled how easily infiltration had once undone them, pushing them to the brink. But she also remembered Kai's quiet support, how he offered a sliver of stability she hesitantly accepted.

She stood, gazing at a flickering lantern's flame. I can't let infiltration cripple us, she resolved silently. The orchard donkey's bray echoed outside, orchard watchers calling shift changes. She swallowed, acknowledging the comfort Kai's presence gave her, yet resisting any deeper reliance. The orchard settlement demanded unwavering vigilance, overshadowing personal longing.