After recieving the strange trio of rules, the Girl inspected her surroundings. She’d travelled down a vast expanse of forest, yet didn’t seem to be any further away from the entrance, despite the sheer abundance of flora surrounding her. Even when the mass of leaves impeded her line of sight, the rim of the city was still within reach. According to the marking on her bracelet, she’d hardly moved forward at all.
As favorable as it seemed, she felt that she needed to explain her circumstances.
She nudged the Pale Boy and pointed down to the chain on her ankle and said, “I’m afraid I need to stay within city limits.”
The Pale Boy casually dismissed her ankle decoration. (I wouldn’t worry) Then he swiped at the ground where leaves had fallen off a tree, and handed the paper-thin material sandwiched between his blades.
The Girl cautiously took it away, without shredding the fragile leaf to pieces, as the Pale Boy pantomimed swiveling his multiple cleavers in a circular motion. (Wrap this around your thing there. The readings will be confined to this forest. And just this forest. If you get out, it’ll activate otherwise)
The Girl carried out his instructions carefully, not wanting to be anywhere close to those sharp instruments. Once that little detail was dealt with, another thought entered her mind, and she asked the Burned Man, “How much am I getting paid?”
“Pay? It’s a privilege to be working under my thumb. You won’t get any work experience like this anywhere. Rather, you should be paying me for this opportunity.”
Despondent, she turned away and kicked at the ground. Then she noticed something that caught her attention. “Hey, a hundred!” she said, stepping into the the maw of a large carnivorous plant that snapped shut around her. No biggie. With this, she’d be able to pay off her tab, and still have more than enough left over... if anyone would accept this as legal tender. Looking closer, it barely resembled an actual Brown Note. Maybe if she slipped this off to an extremely ignorant blind clerk, she’d get away with it.
“What are you doing in there?!”
“I thought I found some money.”
“Didn’t you listen to me? I said this place was dangerous!”
“No, you never said that.”
“Oh.” The Burned Man replied, realization dawning over his face. “Well, you still should’ve known better! I can’t have you dying off too soon!”
“Good to know. Little help here?”
“First, let go of that piece of bait.”
Even though she knew it was counterfeit, she was loathe to do so. it was the most money she’d ever seen. The bubbling acid residue at her feet would’ve motivated her to act faster if it wasn’t peeling away her defenses very... very... slowly.
“Let me think about it.”
“What’s more important? Your fake money or your real life?”
“Don’t rush me! I was never taught how to deal with situations like these! And if I was, I wasn’t paying attention!”
“What Are they teaching you these days?”
“Nothing useful. Just Boolean Patterns, Memorizing Dead Languages, the Theory of Longevity, and how to get out of a hungry green plant that lures you in with fake money.”
The Burned Man looked confused. “Wouldn’t that apply in this - ”
“This is Purple! They’re clearly different!”
The Burned Man looked up at the canopy of dense leaves surrounding the area. “It’s the lighting. It’s affecting your senses.”
“You mean this plant’s actually green?? That changes things!” She dropped the counterfeit, and started getting out via the sides of the ‘mouth’ where the openings were weakest, but was set back by hidden thorns embedded at the sides. Annoyed, she took off her smoldering shirt and plugged the sharp protrusions with the thin layer, and wriggled her way through. One leg over, then her arm, a head with tangled hair, then the other arm, and squeezing her other foot which got briefly stuck.
Once free from that natural man-trap, she stood in front of the Burned Man in her half-melted clothes, who looked upon her nubile form.
“The green plants I know of didn’t have razors in their sides.” she grudgingly accused.
The Burned Man stared at her for awhile, then turned away, muttering something about how kids these days had no sense of modesty or shame.
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