You’ve been tasked with seeking out new food sources for your village. Food is scarce, but thankfully, your community isn’t picky. You can’t afford to be picky.
One day, you find it: a miracle food source hidden away in ruins no one goes in anymore. Everything about it is strange— the terrain is unfamiliar, the food is delicious and plentiful, the circumstances suspicious. Could this be divine intervention? You decide it doesn’t matter much.
Your squad feasts. You eat well. With your bellies full of food and your hearts full of joy, you carry as much of the food back with you as you can carry. You feel very confident for the first time in a long while that your community will be fed.
Your village feasts. The banquets are endless. Squads are sent to continuously replenish this wondrous food supply. Everyone is fed and happy and it is good.
And you almost don’t notice at first, but you very, very slowly fall ill.
You don’t immediately connect it at first, blaming it on this and that. You’re just more tired than usual, is all.
But all of your squad members fall ill, too. The oldest one dies.
The plague (curse?) spreads throughout the entire village. Being well-fed isn’t enough to stop it. More and more families fall sickly en masse.
The squads are hit the hardest. That’s when you finally make the connection. The food is bad.
No one can recover fast enough. Everyone has eaten the food.
When the beloved matriarch falls ill, you know this will be the end for your village. There’s no way to recover enough people, especially without any proper leadership. You know your village will silently disappear, and you know you won’t be around enough to see if any survivors will make it out ok.
If only you could be there to warn them not to eat the mysterious food in the future. If only you could warn them that it’s a trap.
areudirty
2087
tangentwithtanner
