Trapper rounded the final bend in the tunnel network she had been following for the last six, tension-saturated hours.

  When the passage opened into a large brownstone cavern, she scanned the area with Sense Vibrations, then recorded her observations of the various beasts and resources she’d spotted inside. When her report was complete, she gathered some nearby materials, then turned around and began walking back the way she had come, which marked the end of her lengthy scouting run.

  Trapper’s bag was stuffed full of crafting materials, and even more were strapped to the back, but she had only found enough food for a few individual meals—a drop in the bucket compared to what the expedition consumed each day. I hope the others had better luck. A few more days of quarter rations and we’ll be too weak to fight back if the Claws come for us.

  As she made the journey back to base camp, she inspected her handiwork, nodding in satisfaction at the array of lethal devices that met her gaze. Over time, she had placed hundreds of traps along the various approaches to their base, adding another layer of defense every time she left the cavern. By this point, nothing should be able to reach the massive enclosure where the hunters were living without going through the painstaking and hopefully fatal process of disarming them all.

  Hours passed as she walked through the darkness, using her skills to scan her surroundings for the presence of hostile beasts. When she finally drew near the expedition’s fortifications, voices began echoing down these lonely halls of stone.

  Even from here, she could hear their desperation. The hunters had done well to survive for this long, but Trapper couldn’t help but wonder if she would ever see the sun again or if this warren beneath the mountain would be their tomb instead.

  She shook her head to clear her mind, then forced her thoughts away from such morbid topics, realizing that every day the Claws’ siege continued, the harder it became to keep hope alive.

  She knew the lookouts had already spotted her as she stepped into the light, but she flashed the correct hand sign anyway, confirming that she really was Trapper and not someone mimicking her features. The hunter paid close attention as she made her final approach, forcing her thoughts into focus despite her pervasive fatigue. There was a line of lethal traps protecting the last stretch of tunnels, and anyone who disturbed them would end their day in the worst possible way.

  A few minutes later, the walls and barricades came into view, manned by a team of hunters specializing in ranged attacks. She nodded in approval while scanning the perimeter. While their list of problems was longer than her arm, the camp’s defenses were substantial and impressive.

  In addition to having an endless supply of driftwood—courtesy of an underground river that flowed through the jungle before heading through the caves—their team included several earth specialists who could reshape raw rock into the shape of their choosing. As a result, the base boasted several layers of walls and various fortifications. It had one narrow entrance that would be a nightmare to assault and a secret bolt hole that led deeper into the mountain.

  When Trapper stepped through the gate, dozens of magelights lit up the space beyond—bright compared to the glowing crystals and bioluminescent mushrooms found in the cavern network. She waved to everyone she saw, surveying the encampment as she walked over to the crafters’ station to drop off her resources before handing the scant food she’d found to the quartermasters.

  Everywhere she looked, people were hard at work, doing their best to endure this ordeal and prepare themselves for the battle that would begin the moment the jailbirds found their camp.

  While an invasion would cost the gang greatly, the hunters couldn’t hold the Claws off forever. The convicts’ skillsets were built around murder and mayhem, and though the members of the expedition were hearty souls, they had been prepared to face off against monsters and beasts—not go to war with members of their own species.

  People were hungry, tired, stressed out, and scared. But at least water and light weren’t a problem. The expedition had stocked plenty of magelights, and Violet could create bronze-grade aether with her skill, recycling anything that contained magicytes into fuel for their magitech devices.

  Water came from the river, which also provided the camp with a limited supply of fish. It wasn’t nearly enough to fill their bellies, but it held starvation at bay. To make up the rest, they had to explore progressively deeper into the caverns—a dangerous enough endeavor under ordinary circumstances, but doubly so when Roth’s minions were prowling the depths.

  Trapper’s people had been attacked by a variety of predatory beasts early on in their involuntary stay. But by now, the creatures knew the hunters of Puppet Town were no easy prey—the ones that were still alive, at any rate. They had also run into a handful of monsters, both native to this biome and escapees from the Savage Garden. Two lives had been lost to those nightmares made flesh, and she prayed that all the monsters were dead by this point.

  Whenever they weren’t scouting, scrounging or fortifying the camp’s defenses, people were keeping themselves busy to keep from going stir-crazy. Everywhere she looked, hunters were conditioning their attributes, training their skills, and maintaining their equipment. They also swapped stories, sparred, and played games, although gambling had been banned after two brawls that no one could afford.

  People also passed the time by constructing various upgrades to their underground base, whether they were needed or not. Thanks to the rocks filling the biome and the driftwood that arrived daily on the shore of the river, the place was starting to look like an actual settlement—albeit one that Trapper would be happy never to lay eyes on again.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  After dropping off her heavy load, she made the rounds, checking in on the various factions and the important people in her life. Violet was busy around the clock, helping everyone keep their gear in working order, whipping up meals at the cook station, and managing the limited supplies at their disposal. Violet was always surrounded by a ring of people, using her Traveler’s Boon aura to heal their wounds and restore their stamina at an accelerated rate.

  Trapper shared a look with the woman from across the cavern, staring into those gorgeous purple eyes before the quartermaster sighed and returned to her duties.

  Jumo and Riller were shirtless and sparring with sticks, working on conditioning their Reflex, Speed, and Control, alongside their combat technique. She ran her gaze across Jumo’s deep bronze skin and tribal tattoos. The warrior had always been athletic, but after the trials of the last few weeks, he had cycled up at an impressive rate and gained considerable muscle mass. Trapper was glad he was here. Jumo was steady and dependable. His easy laugh and upbeat nature were invaluable assets, helping to keep the camp’s morale from nosediving into dangerous territory.

  Since binding his core after their battle with the garax, Riller had changed considerably. His agile frame now radiated the bountiful vitality that all cored people shared. He had always been one of the stealthiest hunters she knew, and his efforts were vital to the camp’s survival. On that note, Riller had ranked up his Scout Drone twice over the last few weeks. Now he could operate the conjured device from a considerable distance, which made exploring the tunnels far safer than it would have otherwise been.

  After waving hello and declining to join them, Trapper walked over to the beasts’ side of the enclosure to spend some time with Blue. The azure triceratops was absolutely miserable, although she was smart enough to understand why they were stuck in this place. “I’m sorry girl.” She scratched the dino behind her horns. “I hate it here too.”

  Blue and the other beasts who hadn’t been lost during the Claws’ ambush weren’t suited to long stints underground—not that the hunters were either. They had their own individual pens, as well as a communal area, but most of them were just lying listlessly by this point.

  The herbivores and omnivores were living on a diet consisting solely of moss and an occasional mushroom. And the carnivores were stuck with whatever beasts wandered into the hunters’ traps. If we stay down here much longer, they are going to start developing serious health issues. It was a pressing problem, but just one concern on her long list of woes.

  On that subject, Trapper’s thoughts turned to the missing members of her crew. While Sasha and Edge were remarkably skilled in their respective areas of expertise, she didn’t know what had happened to either of them and was deeply worried about both hunters.

  To distract herself from further rumination, she decided to check in with the factions before tucking into her bedroll and getting what little sleep she could. After Gram’s tragic demise, the expedition had been left without an official leader. Instead, each group looked to their senior members for guidance—who conferred with each other before making any major decisions.

  Melchior and his assistants were huddled over a makeshift workbench, mixing up a fresh batch of potions for when their conflict with the jailbirds entered a deadly new stage. The alchemists’ presence had been a godsend, providing the hunters with a range of medicines and defensive consumables.

  However, they had run out of raw materials a few days ago. To help with the problem, Melchior’s bodyguards had joined the hunters on scouting runs, scouring the tunnels for anything they could use to make more of the life-saving devices.

  After stopping to chat for a few minutes, Trapper walked over to the deputies’ side of the enclosure, checking to see who was in fighting shape and who had been injured since she left on her mission the day before.

  Momo was working with Spencer, Biggs, and Wedge, helping to keep the peacekeepers’ equipment in working order. Able and the other warriors were in the middle of drilling with their weapons, practicing team tactics along with a group of assorted hunters. They changed formation on command while brainstorming on how to defend against a range of magical threats, preparing themselves to face the convicts’ deadly powers.

  The only bright side to being stuck in this dismal situation was that everyone had begun cycling up and advancing their skills at a rapid rate. The ever-present threat of annihilation was a powerful source of motivation to push themselves beyond their prior limits.

  The section of the base used by Alice and her resource hunters was almost empty. The harvesters were working around the clock, scavenging the tunnels for enough food to keep the expedition and its beasts from starving. While Trapper did as much scouting as she could, it wasn’t enough by itself. Each new day forced the harvesters to travel further into unexplored territory, increasing the risk they faced and the time it took to complete each run.

  Trapper’s next stop was the busiest part of the enclosure. The sound of hammering and sawing filled the air as she approached the area where Ander and the other crafters were in the midst of a flurry of activity.

  Some of them were reinforcing the camp’s defenses, transforming the resources at their disposal into components to make traps, build barricades, and carve missiles. A second group was creating a limited selection of offensive consumables, adding them to a pile that was ready for general distribution.

  Her last stop was the area they called the command tent, although it was really a wooden building complete with windows and doors. Inside was a round table where the expedition’s leaders could confer, along with a series of lists and charts outlining the state of the base’s defenses, supplies, and all the projects currently underway. Trapper stepped inside to brief herself on what had taken place in her absence.

  The only person sitting at the table was Tessa, who was updating a list with the latest news from back home. Tessa was able to receive messages from Puppet Town, thanks to a skill that Trapper wasn’t familiar with. Although Tessa couldn’t send information the other way, it was good for morale to know the settlement was still standing and working hard to win the war.

  It was also how the expedition had learned that Edge had conquered the Savage Garden and claimed the manufactory for Puppet Town, along with Setna and Snake. The update had resulted in an impromptu celebration, giving everyone’s mood a sorely needed boost.

  The knowledge that their people still had a chance of surviving for the long haul was the only thing keeping everyone from falling into despair. The news that Earl couldn’t send reinforcements due to Claws operating on the plains was disheartening. But shortly after, Tessa had learned there was a crew from Puppet Town fighting the jailbirds in the jungle above, keeping hope alive in this desperate moment.

  Given the timing, Trapper was certain that Edge was among them. We just need to break this siege and wipe out the Claws, and we can all go home. Edge, you’ve already done more than anyone could ask, but I could really use your help right now.