"Um," Hazel hums as she swivels her head back and forth. "Why is everyone avoiding us?"

  Through the bond, the tentacles' consciousness floats freely, seemingly slipping deeper into unconsciousness as time passes.

  Marching across the mud-filled floor, trying not to trip over the sludge clinging to my boots, I turn my gaze slightly to her. Mary stands on the girl’s other side, very pointedly staring straight ahead at the path before her.

  I glance at the woman with half-lidded eyes and slowly blink.

  Oh, so that’s how she wants to play it, huh? Wow. How mature. Remind me again—who’s the one in their mid-thirties and not someone who recently turned eighteen again?

  Turning away from Mary, I shift my gaze back to Hazel.

  “What do you mean?” I ask casually, my voice cracks a little.

  Internally wincing, I briefly close my eyes.

  Still sore, but definitely better than a few days ago.

  Hazel simply waves both her hands in the air. Briefly glancing up, I let my eyes wander around.

  All around, everyone is clustered together, almost in a claustrophobic way. With the path before us narrowed by protruding tree roots, my entire group ends up squeezed tightly against each other.

  Arms and legs occasionally snag on one another. However, there’s an obvious little space around me, Mary, and Hazel—more specifically, a wide berth given to me. Not enough to avoid a hand or two bumping against me from time to time, but enough to be noticeable.

  Well, that suits me just fine. I don’t like the feeling of sweaty, dirty hands touching me anyway.

  Pulling the red scarf higher over my face—the one Mary snagged from somewhere and gave me a few hours ago—I simply shrug.

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  “It’s probably your imagination,” I say, my half-lidded eyes glancing toward the ground.

  The red scarf scratches uncomfortably against my neck and face. The cheap microfiber plastic in the fabric grinds annoyingly against me.

  Well, it does its job at least. No one can see any black fluids seeping through.

  “No, it’s not,” Hazel huffs. “I’m not imagining it.”

  Raising one of my eyebrows, I let out a small hum and tilt my head to the side.

  Is spending too much time with Mary rubbing off on Hazel? She sure is getting bolder these days.

  Letting out another small hum, I turn my attention away from the girl and focus forward.

  The hunters’ expressions are tense, many of them flickering their eyes around as if a monster might burst from the trees at any moment.

  Slowly furrowing my brows into a frown, I slightly scrunch my nose.

  Sure, it’s not abnormal—and quite stressful—for a monster or two to appear out of nowhere, thanks to a lot of complicated things I’ll just dub “dungeon shenanigans,” but for experienced hunters?

  Narrowing my eyes, I almost chew on my bottom lip. Letting out a small snort, I pinch the bridge of my nose.

  Didn't some of the hunters talk about something? Something about him.

  Trying to recall the memory, the only thing that comes to mind is a hazy whirling midst of searing pain and exhaustion.

  Damn it, I can’t remember much of what was said then. What’s the point of being undead if I’m worse off than before? At least I used to be able to actually fight and be more durable than this.

  “Ah, Beatrice is just a little cranky at the moment,” Mary says. “You know how things are. Dungeons, monsters, yadda yadda.”

  From the corner of my eye, I watch as the woman gently places a hand on Hazel’s head and gives it a small ruffle.

  “But I’m right, right?” Hazel asks, hurriedly smoothing her hair back. “People are avoiding us.”

  Mary pauses before giving the girl a small shrug.

  “I wouldn’t say to worry over something like that,” the woman says. “Hey, I think I have an idea for a new tea brew.”

  Mary then grins at the girl. “You should try it. Didn’t you say you like honey?”

  “Ummm… more tea?” Hazel begins. “I—uh, wow.”

  Mary simply lets out a bark of laughter and harshly nudges the girl’s shoulder.

  “Ah, don’t be so shy,” the woman hums as she pinches one of the girl’s cheeks. “Life’s too short. You need to be more adventurous!”

  Hazel’s face pales as I see sweat frantically trickling down the back of her head. Her tentacles, usually quiet and motionless, shoot straight up.

  Seemingly unaware—or just pretending not to notice—the girl’s predicament, Mary continues laughing as she chatters on about all the tea ideas she’s planning to make.

  Staring silently at the two of them, I feel a pang spreading through my chest.

  With my teeth still not fully grown back, I just grind my lips against each other instead.