We’re across! Across and alive! Twenty minutes it took. Twenty minutes that felt more like twenty hours. Even with Armbranch by my side, I felt such a loneliness and despair it was almost like grief. I guess that’s just one of the effects of the energy in this borderline. Not only did it penetrate every muscle, tendon, and bone in my body, it penetrated my mind, filled it with the most terrible dread of what might happen when I took that next step. I couldn’t count the times I almost succumbed to it.

The whole world slowed almost to a standstill as I followed Armbranch onto that patch of land. It was like being underwater moving through a strong current. My legs burned under the strain. My arms flailed sideways searching for balance. Even my eyes felt like they were being pushed back to rub against my brain by the force. Every footstep was a lead weight. Every breath was like sucking in water. My ears kept popping, the shockwave sending a terrible, maddening itch spiralling around inside my skull.

Yet there was nothing there. Absolutely nothing. Not even a breeze. The dust and loose leaves sat perfectly still on the ground. In an odd sort of way I imagined I was moving through a painting – a masterpiece, to be precise. A thing so perfectly formed it was hard to believe it was natural and not some genius creation.

But it was some genius creation. Yes, a mad genius. The borderline was as much a part of the Envelop as everything I’d passed through already. Only here it was blended so seamlessly to the rest of the jungle it was shocking in its simplicity.

As I struggled across the last few yards my scalp felt like it was being sliced from my skull. And when I fell out of it and into a clump of grassy, low growing bushes, it felt like I’d been spat out of it.

I don’t think I could ever go through that again. Even the knowledge that the wireless connection still works did little to raise my spirits. Drained, that’s the only word to describe it. It’s like the life’s been sucked right out of me and I’m running on some kind of nervous reaction. Maybe this is how a chicken feels when it’s just had its neck snapped. Right now I barely have the energy to read the screen. Armbranch isn’t much better. After setting up the bridge and stuffing some kind of leaf into my mouth, he collapsed beside me. He’s panting and his eyes are narrow and droopy. I think he’s about to collapse.

Must sleep now. I don’t think we’re going to go much farther today. Must sleep. I have to; but I don’t want to. That dread is so deeply embedded in my mind now I’m afraid that if I close my eyes I’ll never open them again.

Maybe I’m dying.

Goodbye, Maya. I tried.

Woke a few hours before dawn. And as the sun rose, it was the first time I noticed how really quiet it was here. Deathly quiet. Nothing is howling in the distance now, and there isn’t as much as a hint of a breeze to disturb the trees.

Insulated, that’s what it’s like.

I’ve written an email to Maya explaining things to her in case anything happens when we cross or the Cisco connection doesn’t work from the far side. I’m torn whether to tell Justin, too. I’ve decided not to. It’s that temper I’m afraid of. Instead, I’ve set up a timed message explaining everything. He’ll get it in two days if anything goes wrong. After that… Well, I just don’t know what might happen.

Armbranch is eager to leave. The thoughts of crossing this border terrify me. Up until now I’ve had Armbranch by my side to watch and guide. He’ll still be by my side as we cross, but I feel it’s going to be different. Something tells me that he won’t be able to help me if things go wrong. I don’t know why I sense this. I guess it’s his attitude. He keeps telling I must move slowly, move steadily, and I must never stop.

That’s exactly what I’m going to do.

I’ll move slowly. I’ll move steadily, And, no matter what happens, I’m not going to stop.

Armbranch stayed away all afternoon. I know he was watching me. I could sense it. A few hours after darkness fell, just as the borderline was beginning to glow, he came and said we should go to the tree. I guess he might have imagined a few hours alone in the dark might soften me up. Wrong. I wasn’t alone. I had Maya right here with me. I refused point blank to budge until he told me more about himself and his plans.

He finally relented. But he’s a clever one. Apart from admitting he was an integral part of the Envelop (which I knew already), he didn’t tell me much. He said he’d been born somewhere else and left in the Envelop at a young age. His creator had attached him to a tree, a wise old tree he could communicate with and who taught him everything about the Envelop.

I’d swear his eyes dimmed a little when he spoke about that tree. Father Tree, he called it. Said he’d showed it to me on the first day we’d entered the Envelop. I remember it now. It was one of the largest trees in there, something that had once been as tall and broad as a hundred year old Oak. It had fallen close to the gateway. All I remember of it is that it once must have stood very proud.

How could a tree have taught him everything? Who knows. Who cares. Anything seems possible in this place. All I know is that he’s telling me the truth. I can see it in his eyes.

He promised to tell me more when we crossed. For me, it was enough for now.

The instant I woke this morning, I knew I wasn’t going to cross. Not before I got some answers. I need to know what Armbranch is and what he wants. I’m sick of being spoon-fed information and being treated like a child. Okay, so this is his domain. He’s got a purpose for me here. He’s not helping me out of kindness. I need to know what that purpose is before I take another step.

A short, bitter argument ensued. I didn’t give an inch. To be perfectly honest, I’m scared; and not just about crossing this thing. No. What terrifies me just as much is the thought that the Cisco connection won’t work on the far side. There’s some kind of energy hovering over that patch of ground. That’s why it glows at night. If it’s electrical it might interfere with the wireless signal or cut it off completely.

I couldn’t keep going if I couldn’t visit with Maya every night.

After I dug my heels in, Armbranch gave up and slunk away.

I guess this conflict had to happen. It’s not just about his silence. It’s about everything: the tunnel, Keyes, the Parawerthan, and this dirty, dying Envelop. Mostly, though, it’s about Maya. I’m so sick and tired of looking at her through a lens. It’s almost like looking at a photograph of a loved one who’s passed on except you know they’re still around if only you can find the right place to look.

I don’t care about this place. I don’t care about Armbranch, Keyes, O’Heir, or anyone else. All I want is my wife by my side. We should be out picking mushrooms at this time of the year. And soon we’d be scouting the lanes around Killykeen Forest Park for blackberries. She loved picking blackberries. We’d fill the freezer with so many we’d still be eating them after Christmas. This year she was hoping for a bumper crop. She planned to make jam.

My poor, poor Maya. She doesn’t deserve to be lying half dead in a hole.

Fuck Armbranch. Fuck everything.

I know now what Armbranch meant when he spoke about a ‘greater concentration of dead’. He was looking for a place where many creatures had tried to recently cross. He said that the power of the Envelop’s first line of defence would be weaker there after killing them. It would make it easier for us to cross.

We soon found such a place. After about an hour trekking along this obscene killing ground we came across a pile of corpses. It looked like a herd of pig like mammals had blundered into the zone. There must have been at least twenty, their tattered pelts hanging off them like drapes, their flesh a black mud that dripped slowly and heavily onto the brown earth. It seemed like they were all staring at me, like their souls were still trapped in there and begging for release. One was actually off the ground, like it had charged in here and the force of impact had lifted it into the air. It hung there, suspended in a nothingness.

I’ve no idea what caused this carnage. But it makes me fear for the crossing. Armbranch says it’s possible. He explained that the energy is directed forward, not back. It’ll be easier for us to leave. I have my doubts. I’m sick of this place. Ever since I left the tunnel I’ve had to look at nothing but death. If I didn’t have the laptop I’d probably be insane already. At least that enables me to tune in to Maya. The very sight of her makes all this go away for a while.

But only for a while. I still have to face it every time I look up.

I’m also more worried about what could be lingering on this side of the Envelop. It wasn’t just death inhabiting that borderline. There was life there, too. Well, at least the signs of life. Tracks. Big sets of tracks that had made it all the way across. Judging by their size I figure the animals were huge. Some of the tracks looked fresh. On one hand it’s terrifying to know they could be around here somewhere. Yet, it’s also a relief to have seen them. At least something made it across.

Time now to retreat back into the woods and find a tree. Dusk is falling and the borderline is beginning to glow with a faint green tinge. We’ll cross in the morning. About two hours after sunrise is the best time, Armbranch says.

I’m not too sure if I want to go through with it.

Well, now that we’ve finally reached the end of the Envelop, I don’t know whether to rejoice or cry. Like everything else in this damn place, it’s not what I expected. I thought we could simply walk out of here and on to wherever. Silly, silly me. How was I so naïve? If the Envelop was designed as a protective defence system, how did I ever think we could just stroll out of it?

If anything, leaving it might be harder than trekking through it. There’s nothing obvious to stop me leaving. And that’s the worst part. Nothing obvious I guess except the skeletons. There’s a bare patch of ground about fifty feet wide separating the edge of the Envelop for the fresher, more natural looking forest on the far side. This borderline stretches off on either side like some endless dirt track.

And it’s full of skeletons. Big ones, small ones, ones that look like birds, and ones that looked like they’d no legs and had crawled into this killing zone. At a rough guess I’d say there was probably a skeleton every twenty feet or so. I’ve no idea what they once were, but juding by the tusks, teeth, spines, and claws, I doubt if I might ever have wanted to meet them close up. The sight of it made me puke. It was so real, so horrifying, a crazy reverse graveyard where it seemed like the very earth wouldn’t accept the dead and just left them standing there long after their flesh had fallen to dust.

It was obvious they’d all died trying to cross into the Envelop. It was also quite obvious they’d died quickly because not one of them had gotten the slightest chance to turn.

Armbranch says we cannot cross the borderline here. He says we have to find a place where there’s a greater concentration of dead.

Upped the pace today. The very thought of what almost happened the other night was enough to put a spring in my step. I can’t help thinking that thing might still be out there, unhurt, stalking us, and biding its time before striking again.

Somehow I doubt it. Either it was an opportunist that tried to strike when Armbranch wasn’t there, or it just happened to pick up my scent by accident. I don’t think it will bother me again. The fact that Armbranch slipped away a few times today to double back on our path was enough to keep the anxiety on simmer.

We haven’t made it to the edge of the Envelop. Shortly after two in the afternoon we encountered a wall of thick vegetation blocking our way. Armbranch said it was impossible to get through. It was full of traps and designed as a second line of defence against anything that managed to cross into the Envelop. We had to trek for two hours before we came to a break. Something had smashed through it and the wall hadn’t fully regenerated. It was still a challenge to push through it. It was about ten feet thick and filled with spines and leaves that clung to my clothes and burned them. Thankfully, because the whole thing was drooping and dying, the potency of those leaves was well diluted.

We’ve stopped for the night, now. The tree we’re in is standing strong, but it’s branches are thin. I think it’s going to be an uncomfortable night. The edge of the Envelop is less than a quarter mile ahead. I’m looking forward to getting out of this place.

I’ve been thinking more about bringing Justin in on this. In fact, I wouldn’t mind having him in here with me. He was always the more adventurous of us both. He took off to India when he was nineteen and didn’t return for almost two years. It was an impressive trip. And what was equally impressive was the fact that he returned without any bad habits. Smoking habits, I mean. I know some guys who went there and returned with a permanent idiot’s grin plastered onto their face from too much dope.

Justin could also help me with the bills. Okay, so most are paid through direct debit. But earlier today I remembered a letter arriving from the electricity company wanting to replace our fusebox. Shortly after we bought the house, they called to check the wiring. Said the fuse box was old and possibly dangerous.

How could I have forgotten about that? They’re supposed to call someday next week, I think. Damn it!

Spent the day on edge. It was only when daylight came that I realised the true extent of what could have happened if I hadn’t woken. Great chunks of timber had been gouged from the tree trunk from the ground upwards to about nine or ten feet from where I was asleep. Luck wasn’t the word for it. Another few moments and I couldn’t have used the Purdy. Yet, the more I think about it, the more I wonder if it was just luck. When I think back about it, the instant I woke I hadn’t immediately looked down. No. I’d looked up, like there was something higher in the tree.

Had something else woken me?

I said nothing to Armbranch about it. If there was something else there, something watching over me, he surely knows about it. Maybe it’s best not to mention it for now.

And if the damage to the tree was shocking, the lack of a single track, broken branch, or trampled bush around the base of the tree was truly terrifying. Judging by the size of the beast, I’d expected the area to be levelled. There wasn’t a single mark on the ground to indicate anything had been there. It was like… it had just ‘appeared’ and disappeared as easily. Impossible, I know. Yet…

Attacked! Almost a catastrophe. Can hardly sit still enough to write. Something tried to climb the tree about half an hour ago. Don’t know what it was. Everything happened so fast. When I awoke and heard the scratching, scrabbling sound I was convinced I was still asleep and in a nightmare. No nightmare. Reality. There was something climbing the tree. Something big and heavy. The entire tree was vibrating from the force as it clawed its way up. It made no effort to hide itself. It snorted and squealed as wildly as a pig on the way to slaughter. I barely had time to grab the Purdy. I didn’t see the creature. I just aimed over the side and let go with both barrels. Above the sound of the shots I think I heard a high pitched wail. Then nothing. Silence. The thing fell. At least I hope it fell. Either that, or it jumped because when I reloaded the Purdy and managed to light my head light there wasn’t as much as a shadow on the tree trunk.

It was only then I realised Armbranch wasn’t there. He arrived back minutes later, muttering to himself as he scrambled up the tree. And I was angry with him. Angry and disappointed that he’d abandoned me like that. He didn’t apologise when I confronted him. He did seem disturbed, though. He told me he’d gone out scouting. We’re nearing the end of the Envelop. If we leave early in the morning we should reach it by sunset.

Leave in the morning! I want to leave right now. The musty animal stink of whatever attacked me is lingering everywhere, wrapped around every branch and stem of the tree like some kind of horrible breath. Armbranch insists we stay. Too dangerous to move, he says. We have to wait until sunrise.

Our endless slog through this forest continued today, but now at a much slower pace. It’s getting hotter and more humid. I’m glad I brought functional clothes. I’m also glad I brought those extra water bottles. Much as I’d like to leave my mark and dump the empties here, I won’t. It wouldn’t feel right.

Armbranch insisted we take more breaks. I didn’t argue. I feel much stronger after yesterday’s rest. The pain in my legs is still there. I’m beginning to wonder if it’s not a pain but some kind of slow moving trap that’s somehow burrowed into my muscles to slow me down. Crazy thought, I know. Yet I can’t help wondering about it. Everything in here is designed to hinder instead of help. Everything, that is, except Armbranch.

It’s also struck me that I should write a weekly, bi weekly, or monthly account for Maya of what’s happened since she fell asleep. When she wakes she’ll need to know what happened quickly. I can’t expect her to wade through all these blog entries and emails. I should mail Justin, too. Since we’re not going to Cork, he’s interested in visiting us instead. Perhaps it might be a good idea. Perhaps I should confide in him and let him know everything that’s happened. I can’t stand the thought of Maya being alone for so long. Okay, so he won’t actually be able to enter the outer tunnel to be with her. But at least he’ll see her from the machine.

She looks more vulnerable every time I check on her. As the days roll on, the notion that I’ve abandoned her is growing in my mind, nibbling away at my will and feeding off my fears like some terrible mental parasite.

Telling Justin could be risky. He’s got a temper, and he loves Maya in a very sisterly way. Who knows what might happen when he sees her like that? I’ll have to have a good think about that, and soon. As the days roll on it’s becoming more and more obvious that I need to confide in someone. Leaving the house like that was like leaving an open wound vulnerable to any manner of germs. Anything could happen: a fire, a leak, a burglary. One blown fuse could cut my umbilical and there’s not a damn thing I could do about it.

Just read about those miners in Chile found alive after a cave in 17 days ago. Stuff like that would give you hope.

Just read this morning’s post and feel sick about it. Strike first! What lunacy! I must have been really, really paranoid. Or was I feverish? I certainly didn’t feel well. I felt much better after a few hours sleep. The sweating is gone and the ache in my legs has receded to a dull throbbing, like I’d just finished a long race.

Armbranch was sitting close to me when I awoke. He still behaved like he was annoyed. But I saw something else in his eyes. Despite his grumbling and restless behaviour, I saw a softness there that betrayed some other, deeper emotion. I don’t know what it was. Worry, perhaps? I’d like to think so. We talked for a while, about simple things. Yet, no matter how I tried to prise information from him, he says little about himself or his purpose in the Envelop.

I think his intentions are well meaning, though. Even if he does eventually do me harm, he’ll do it for a genuine, practical reason, and not out of spite. He’s as much a part of this Envelop as the trees, the traps, and whatever else is in here. That’s the way things work here. Impersonal. Anonymous. None of it is personal.

When I asked if he’d like to see closer into the laptop, there was a real spark of interest in his eyes. He declined. But that spark is still there. I see it every time I open up the laptop.

As regular as clockwork, the wind above the trees came again today. Lying here I got a better look at it. Well, I didn’t actually see anything. Apart from the branches shaking over and back there was nothing to see. But I sensed something there, something… dare I say it, alive. Armbranch climbed higher into the tree shortly before it arrived.

Perhaps it was simply a touch of fever, but I’d swear I heard him talk to it.

Felt terrible when I woke. I’m sweating a lot and I don’t think it’s from the heat. Armbranch wasn’t happy when I announced I wasn’t going anywhere. But he didn’t try to force me. He just climbed higher into the tree and stayed there muttering to himself. I’ve got the Purdy right beside me just in case he’s having some crazy inner argument with himself about whether I’ll be an asset or a liability to him if I get too weak.

In all seriousness, I don’t think it would be much of a fight. He knows what the gun can do and he’s never going to get caught a second time. If he tries anything I don’t think I’ll have a chance. I couldn’t fight him in this environment. It’s impossible. He can become a part of it in the blink of an eye. It’s the speed with which he changes that’s most startling. One minute he’s there right on front of me, the next he’s gone, blended perfectly into the foliage. He even has tinted membranes that slip down over his eyes to turn the orange into a dull red, like an autumn leaf.

A chameleon is the best way to describe how his body reacts to the surroundings.

Was there a reason he didn’t camouflage himself that morning at the tent? Did he deliberately stay a woody colour to show himself and lure me out? I might never learn that answer. I don’t know if I even want to.

One part of me says I should try and placate him. Another part of me, a more primitive part, says that maybe I should strike first if he shows any threatening signs. For now I’ll just sit tight. If I try and placate him he might see it as a sign of weakness. If I strike first I might as well turn the Purdy on myself straight after because I’ll never get anywhere in here on my own.

Pushed deeper into the Envelop today. Our pace is slowing. I don’t know if it’s because Armbranch is tiring or that he notices my exhaustion. Either way, I don’t care. We’ve slowed and I feel better for it. I’ve a deep ache in my thigh muscles, though. This afternoon, for the last few hours of trekking, my legs felt like they’d worn down to the knees.

Even at this slower pace, I’m not sure if I can continue without resting for a day.

Saw what I thought was a bird’s nest up a tree this morning. At least I could have sworn the collection of branches and twigs fashioned into a bowl was a nest. It looked big enough to hold something as large as a heron or eagle. I asked Armbranch about it half hoping he might volunteer to climb up and check. He didn’t bother replying. Not long after that we came across an even more bizarre sight, a scaffold of twigs and deliberately cut branches built around a thick bough. It wasn’t a nest, at least not a bird’s nest. The twigs were tied together with strips of bark and grass twisted together. Something more advanced than any bird had constructed it.

Despite my curiosity, I didn’t mention it to Armbranch.

I’m getting fed up with his attitude, his coldness. Okay, so this problem is of my own making. So what. What’s done is done. We’re supposed to be a team but right now I feel more like a substitute sitting on the bench watching the star perform.

I think he’s also the reason that none of the other traps –the living traps he talks about– come any closer. They’re either scared of him, or obeying him. Sounds crazy, I know. But it’s the only logical answer I can come up with. Every day he tells me a little more about the Envelop. And the more I see of it, the more I understand how it works. It’s all created in a structured, uniform way. The vegetation traps aren’t random. They’re arrayed in layers throughout the Envelop, almost like they were planted that way. Each layer is perhaps several hundred yards deep and no two layers have the same traps. I can’t help thinking that if that’s the case then maybe the ‘living traps’ all have their own patch, too.

And Armbranch fits in here somewhere?

Was he the last line of defence before the gateway?

It’s a terrifying thought because I figure I’ve  barely seen a portion of his talents. It’s also a comforting thought because it means I now could have a fantastic ally. I wonder what Maya will make of him when she wakes.

Somehow… I think she might consider it a challenge to get to know him better.

Maybe that’s what I should start doing, too. Maybe the key to fitting in as an equal on this team is to engage him more instead of simply watching and learning from him.

Maybe I should consider trying to show him something on the laptop. It might act as a good sign of trust. He’s still afraid of it. I think he sees it as some kind of magic fire. And, in an odd sort of way, the glow it tosses around the vegetation at night does look like the glow from a fire.

Must sleep now. Must rest my legs. This tree is quite comfortable. If I feel like this in the morning, I’m not going to budge.

Screw Armbranch. It is supposed to be a day for rest after all.

Too tired to write much. Can barely keep eyes open. If Maya wasn’t here with me I’d be asleep already. Must be near the end of Envelop now. Everything is much fresher and greener.

Armbranch has gone off somewhere and I don’t want to fall asleep before he’s back in case anything else turns up. I’m rereading some of the blog.

It’s odd and a little sad to see how this all began. The first entries are the hardest to read. We were so naïve then, naïve and excited and adventurous. Perhaps it might be an idea to read those posts more often. It might rekindle some of that spirit and give me some mental energy to carry on because it can get so, so lonely in here.

There’s one question that haunts me. What if I don’t make it back? What will I have condemned Maya to? Was I not better off to carry her upstairs from the tunnel and let her pass away in peace,

Then again, if Armbranch is correct about the Basilod’s power, that would never have happened. She’d never have found peace.

Armbranch is back. Must sleep now. Got to sleep.

Exhausted again. It’s not as bad as last night. I think we’re getting closer to the edge of the Envelop. The vegetation here looks fresher and stronger and the smell’s not as bad. In places the scent from the jungle is almost refreshing. Or maybe I’m just imagining it.

The traps are getting more complicated, too. Earlier we came across a pool of sap that had oozed from the base of a tree. It wasn’t the sap that was dangerous. It was what was once alive inside it that spooked me. Eggs. Lots and lots of small white eggs about the size of a pigeon’s egg. Armbranch plucked one from the sap and cracked it open. A stream of small silver insects spilled lifelessly out and drifted away on the breeze. My skin is still crawling from teh memory.

The tree hadn’t laid the eggs, he said. Something else had. (He didn’t elaborate.) The tree’s sap simply provided the energy for them to hatch. Had anything ventured this way when the tree was alive the eggs would have hatched and torn it apart.

We’ve found another tree to spend the night in. This one isn’t as dead. Pity really. I guess the bark might not be as soft.

That wind above the tress came again at midday today. It’s starting to remind me of the whispering wind I encountered in the tunnel.

Slept okay last night. The tree was surprisingly comfortable, partly because the branches are so wide, but mainly because I was so tired. Like everything else, this tree is dying. Only it’s dying slower due to its size. The bark was soft and spongy.

Perhaps that’s another reason why I slept so well.

I woke once and briefly thought I heard something sniffing about at the base of the tree. I listened for a while but heard nothing more before I drifted back off to sleep.

The wireless umbilical is working perfectly. Maya looks well this morning. God how I’d love to be with her right now, eating musli and whispering in her ear.

Exhausted. Only logged on to check on Maya. Armbranch led a blistering pace through the jungle. We’ve stopped now and he plans to spend the night in a tree. Yes, it sounds ridiculous. Nevertheless, I’m so tired I figure I’d easily fall asleep on a windowsill ten storeys up. And right now, as dusk turns the trees to shadows and the sky velvet, spending the night in a tree sounds good. Those distant shrieks and bawls turn much worse at night.

The weight of my supplies is a killer. I’m tempted to ask Armbranch if he’ll help. I won’t. I don’t want to give him any hold over me, and if he’s got something belonging to me it’s a hold. Who knows, he might even take off with my gear or pretend he lost it. I’ll carry it all no matter how heavy it is. Besides, it’ll get lighter over time.

Giving him the bridge every time I want to log on is enough for now.

It’s a big tree, big and still rock solid even if its leaves are black and dry. There’s something about the tightly formed spread of the lower branches that make it appear inviting, like it might be comfortable up there.

It’s worrying that I’m so tired after just five hours of trekking. What will a full day in here do to me? Then again, it’s possible much of this tiredness is simply anxiety. I can’t get Maya out of my head. Everywhere I look I imagine I see her face staring back at me whispering encouragements. I got an immediate lift the instant I checked up on her. She’s looking good. Well, as good as she did this morning.

I made a mistake today trying to keep up with Armbranch. I’ve got to set my own pace. He’ll just have to adjust to it. If he doesn’t, well…

I’ll worry about that tomorrow.

Woke early and took a long, cold shower upstairs. I know Armbranch wants to leave ASAP, but I’m going to take my time. He didn’t pressurise me. He seems to sense the importance of what I’m about to do and what I’m leaving behind.

At least I hope he does.

Sometime after midday is a good time to leave. For the past three days that wind above the trees turns up at midday. I don’t want to hear it today. I’ve enough on my mind. I’ll spend my last few hours with Maya. Then I’ll kiss her one last time. I hope we won’t be gone long. I can’t bear the thoughts of her lying here on her own.

Time to lie with her now. Time to whisper those last goodbyes into her ear.

I know she can hear me.

And I’ve always got the Cisco kit. That connection will soon be my only umbilical to reality.

Went much deeper into the forest this morning. I went first, as usual. But I’m getting used to things out there now. Apart from a dart seed that sliced a hole in my shirt, I read the signs of other traps well. My confidence didn’t last long. Armbranch crushed it by telling me we were on a path. I saw no trace of anything even resembling a path. But I believed him. Sometimes it’s like he actually sees through the forest instead of at it. He says the place is full of paths that meander through the traps.

When I asked him whom the paths were for, he just grunted that they were for the other traps to use. The traps with legs.

I didn’t ask him any more about it after that.

We found the skeleton precisely three hours and twenty minutes after we left the tunnel. I noted the time because it seemed somehow important. It was just sitting there in a clearing. At first sight it was almost surreally beautiful, a gleaming white sculpture amid this turmoil of vegetation. It was a cold beauty, though, cold and terrifying. It was about the size of a bull with a thick skull that seemed fused to its shoulders. At first I thought it was the remains of a herbivore, some cow like creature that had somehow found its way into the Envelop. Then I saw its teeth. It only had two, but they were so long and sharp they could only have been used for tearing flesh.

They looked more like talons than teeth.

It hadn’t died easily. At first I thought it had sunk partially into the ground and died from starvation. It hadn’t. Its legs were gone from below the knees. They’d been bitten, or chopped, or sawn, or burned, or god knows what. It didn’t bear thinking about how it died. There wasn’t a sign of the feet anywhere.

The only emotion Armbranch showed was surprise that this thing had got so far into the Envelop before it died.

But what had trapped it? I never got the chance to ask because it was right then we noticed the large chunk of spine missing from above its hind legs. A bite. And it was fresh. Marrow was oozing from the spine and gathering in a lumpy puddle on the ground where some kind of black fungus was gathering along its edges. After a quick examination, Armbranch led me away from the skeleton.

In a rare moment of confidentiality, he told me when we got back that he believed the Basilod had caused the spine damage two days ago.

My head is still reeling from this information. Two days ago. So the beast was in here all along. Perhaps it was even watching us. Perhaps a good part of Maya had been able to see us, too. Is the part of her it stole conscious of what’s happening? Can she see me? Does she know where she’s going?

Looking at her right now, it’s impossible to imagine a part of her could be conscious somewhere else. It’s also impossible for me not to imagine it. I can’t block it from my mind.

Armbranch said it marked the skeleton as a warning for us not to follow. Terrifying? Yes. But it also revealed something about itself by leaving a warning.

Is it wary of us?

I can’t answer that question. I don’t dare to.

It’s one thing hearing about the Basilod. Even when I saw its bones in the tunnel weeks ago it all seemed surreal and empty to me. Now that I’ve seen hard evidence that it’s alive and out there, the weight of that knowledge is crushing.

“It’s a spirit beast.”

God, I have to say the words aloud just to make them register them in my brain. Thinking about the thing is no good. In order to understand it better and accept what I’m about to attempt, I have to keep on saying those words aloud.

I can’t help wondering if there’s a part of that creature still in Maya, a part that’s still able to communicate with it.

I’ve been running some tests today. I wasn’t going to mention this, but I will. This story must be told in its entirety. Otherwise I wouldn’t be true to Maya.

I’ve being taking samples of plants back from outside. They turn to dust immediately. That didn’t stop me mixing up this dust into a drink and daubing some of it on Maya’s lips. No good. She didn’t as much as twitch. I guess I must be fantasising about some miracle cure because I also inflated a black bin bag with air from outside and released it slowly over her face. Nothing. Not as much as a stir.

As crazy as it sounds, I feel better after testing these things out. I least I tried something to help her.