PREDATOR AND PREY

Taylor moved carefully, her gelatinous form sliding over the uneven ground as she explored. Her experiment with the hive earlier had left her mind buzzing with possibilities, but it also highlighted her limits.

She was adaptable, sure, but was she truly strong?

The question lingered as she traveled deeper into the forest. She had grown larger and slightly more refined after absorbing rocks, dirt, and a few small creatures, but she still felt vulnerable. Her memories of Brockton Bay—of the countless fights she had survived—reminded her that sheer survival often wasn’t enough.

That’s when she felt it.

A presence.

The hairs, if she still had any, would have stood on end. It was subtle at first, a faint rustle of leaves in the distance. But the sound was wrong. The rhythm wasn’t the skittering of small creatures or the wind stirring the canopy. It was heavier, deliberate, stalking.

Taylor heard it—a low, guttural growl.

Her body quivered as she instinctively expanded her awareness, sending a pulse of insects outward. The feedback came quickly—something large was moving toward her.

And then she saw it.

A wolf emerged from the underbrush, but it was unlike any wolf she’d ever seen. Its fur was jet-black and matted, its eyes glowing an unnatural amber. Muscles rippled beneath its thick hide, and its teeth were long and jagged, stained yellow with age and blood. It stalked with the confidence of an apex predator, its gaze locking onto Taylor’s gelatinous form.

For a moment, both froze—or at least, the slime equivalent of freezing in Taylor’s case—sizing each other up. The wolf’s lips curled back in a snarl, saliva dripping from its maw. Taylor didn’t have lungs, but if she did, she might have gasped as she instinctively tried to back away, her body rippling as she slid over the ground.

It thinks I’m prey, she realized grimly.

The wolf lunged.

It was fast—faster than she expected, closing the distance in an instant. Its jaws clamped shut around her gelatinous form, its fangs piercing deep. For a moment, panic surged through her—until she realized something strange.

She felt the pressure but no pain.

Skill activated: Piercing resistance. Damage nullified.

The wolf snarled in frustration, shaking its head violently as if trying to tear her apart. Taylor’s form rippled and stretched but remained intact, her resistance skills rendering the attack useless.

“Okay,” she thought, her panic replaced by exhilaration and fear—though for different reasons. “I can survive this.”

The wolf released her, circling warily as it tried to make sense of its unyielding prey. Taylor seized the moment to send out a mental call, reaching for the nearest insects she could sense. Within seconds, a swarm of ants and flies descended from the trees, forming a buzzing cloud around the wolf.

It growled, but lunged again, its claws raking through her body.

Skill activated: Piercing resistance. Damage nullified.

Once again, the attack had no effect. But Taylor knew she couldn’t just keep manoeuvring about, slinking her gelatinous body around the wolf’s legs. She needed to end this fight. While her body wasn’t built for offense, if she didn’t act soon, it might eventually overwhelm her piercing resistance and harm her—or worse, grow bored and move on to easier prey, like clueless children or something.

Focusing every insect she could summon, she drove them into the wolf’s mouth and nostrils. The beast gagged and choked, its struggles growing more frantic, its howls of anger turning to whimpers of pain. Taylor felt a pang of guilt—this creature was just trying to survive, just like her—but she couldn’t afford to hesitate.

With one final effort, the wolf collapsed, its body twitching.

Immediately, instincts—those of the slime and something deeper, more primal—took over. She shifted her form, spreading across its back and neck, engulfing it in a quivering mass. The wolf thrashed weakly, trying to dislodge her, but she clung tight.

And eventually, it dissolved.

Confirmed. Absorption successful. Biological properties: Enhanced senses and agility detected. New traits acquired.

The disembodied voice echoed in her mind as a rush of energy coursed through her, the sensation strange and unsettling. She could feel her body changing, becoming more refined. Her “vision” sharpened, allowing her to see more clearly, even in the dim light. She felt lighter, more mobile, as if her movements had become smoother, faster.

When the absorption was complete, she pulled away, leaving nothing behind but the faint outline of the wolf’s body in the dirt.

Taylor sat—if it could even be called sitting—back under the tree where the hive buzzed quietly, and took a moment to process what had just happened. She had defeated the predator not through brute strength but through strategy and sheer numbers. And now, she was stronger for it.

But she couldn’t deny the fact that the forest was dangerous, and she wasn’t the only predator here.

“I need to get stronger,” she thought, her resolve hardening.

As she moved deeper into the forest, her enhanced senses picked up faint noises in the distance. Other creatures were out there, watching, waiting.

Taylor didn’t know what lay ahead, but one thing was clear: this forest had thrown its worst at her, and she had survived. No, she had thrived.

And she was just getting started.