Some more favours are earned via my healing and spent on survival-type items before the well closes and moves. Jean got himself a better refilling water flask, too, and his is somehow styled as a potion bottle.

  I make someone change mine to have a sturdy metal exterior, and a top that I can flip up to drink like a straw, or screw off entirely. Yes, it’s vain, but it makes it feel a little more like home. In the same way that my headphones do.

  Another favour is spent on those - getting yet another phone for Bay to experiment with. She better figure out charging soon, or I might have to look into finding a new mechanic. Or experimenting myself, which would probably blow up.

  So, instead of trying to mess with electronics, I just weave a few more crystalline mana threads inside my skull. The way Thatch looks at me means he can see them, but is willing to bear with them for now. I wish I could take away his guilt at killing - and I could [Suppress] it, of course - but it would be unfair. He is suffering, but that is something he probably has to go through.

  That’s fine, in the end.

  He suffers, but it’s okay. If he needs support, I’ll be there.

  In the end, we do move. First, to another city on the canopy. They’re not too hard to spot - in fact, they fire off flares every so often, drawing arcing parabolas through the sky. It’s a practice that’s established itself - since it lets people above the canopy know their location, while drawing the wildlife below somewhere else, chasing after the flashes only once they’ve broken through the dense wall of leaves somewhere else.

  And, at those points, guards can go to cull the wildlife.

  It’s brutal, but also brutally efficient. Somehow, I’m tempted to find a group of ants again and see if I can help them wage war on the humans, but decide against it. The quest is simple, this time. Just survive and find a way up, once we’re strong enough. So we wait until Thatch spots a flare, then head to the city.

  Walking under the three suns is taxing, but not as much as it should be. It feels like there’s a lot less warmth coming from them than from our sun back on Earth. Instead, they shed incredibly bright light, to the point where I have to ask Bay for a pair of sunglasses and suppress my own vision.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  The light does reflect off Richard’s blue micro-scales nicely though. She glints a little in the sunlight, and seems very charmed with it, spinning in her makeshift suit.

  After a few hours, we reach the outpost Thatch spotted. Amelie took some more time, since rolling her wheelchair across the uneven foliage is a bit troublesome, but she managed well. It’s fun seeing the way things are built. The houses are half-woven, half-carved into the wood. Branches twist around the huts, living leaves sprouting from their walls in ways that makes Sylves squeal in delight. And then others are buried in foliage, with cut boards jointed and nailed together.

  The houses stack upwards a little, but extend below. In fact, someone opens a hatch in the canopy right in front of me even as we just approached. Jean jumps a bit. I look at him, and at Isabelle, sighing softly. We would probably separate at this outpost - which was fine, too. Jean would probably sell his healing-

  My thoughts were interrupted when a zoof awkwardly climbed through the hatch, their snowy fur compressing as they crawled out. “Watch where you step,” they said, voice a little high and scratchy. “You were ratting my ceiling with the noise you’re making. New to this floor?”

  I nod.

  “Fricken obvious,” they sigh, rubbing their face with those scrawny hands and elongated fingers. “Minotaur in your party?”

  Thatch steps forward, graciously replacing me in the conversation, and shakes his head. “No, no minotaurs. Why?”

  The zoof scoffs. “Labyrinth sense,” they say, as if it were meant to be obvious. “Means they often make incredible guides for the undergrowth. But no wonder. The guild keeps a tight leash on them.”

  Sylves tilts her head at that, a faint frown playing across her lips. “The guild?” she asks.

  Once again, the local sighs in exasperation. “Yeah, the woodlands guild. Third floor staple, keeps all the maps and best guides to themselves. Anyone doing tours without their permission gets strong-armed. Anyone selling maps? Cracked down on. If you aren’t paying them, you aren’t going up.”

  I look at Sylves, at the way she frowns, then at Opal’s fingers, tapping the hilt of their sword, and the way Thatch and Inu clench their fists. Softly, I sigh. “Does this guild force people into their service?”

  “They kill those who don’t pay a chunk of change for using them as a broker,” the zoof says. “So, basically the same, yes.”

  Softly, I sigh. “I see. Can you point us to their nearest hall?”

  “Biggest building,” they say, pointing at a giant agglomeration of verdant leaves and dark wood, carved from boards and hovering precipitously in the canopy. “Can’t miss it.”

  With one last nod, we take note of the location. Seems like we found where we’ll be making trouble on this floor. I eye my friends one more time. Seriously, not a quiet moment with these people.

  Ah well. If they want a silly guild burned to the ground, I’ll burn it to the ground. No questions asked.