She almost misses the warning - since she almost dropped the scythe, trying to swing it into her grip like that. There's a grunt and a sharp sigh of irritation before she hefts it up again, putting more effort into the run. It's going to be harder, with extra weight.

Mel has acid eating through her skin.

...from caterpillars of all things.

They're too small to notice, moving this fast, but Rachel makes the effort to watch for them, to keep an eye out. On the forest floor, more than anything.

She's barefoot.



Between the rush of wind through the leaves, the call of a bird, the rustle of some animal, there is a soft babbling call.

Rachel may as well have put the brakes on her heels, fast she she suddenly turns to the right.

"This way!" she calls, ducking through the trees. "To the water!"