Heavy Pressure in the Fog

At dawn, a light breeze brushed against my face, carrying a faint chill. Mist filled the air like a gauzy veil draped over the earth, lending everything a hazy beauty. Yet this fog was thicker than yesterday's, darker in color, as if some force had stirred it up and sent it pouring endlessly from the forest sea.

Along the defenses at the valley entrance, dew had quietly formed overnight, dotting the ground like glittering pearls. When the light pierced this thin veil, the droplets glimmered faintly like stars in the night sky, creating a tranquil yet mysterious atmosphere. But that tranquility carried a trace of unease, as though some unknown danger lay hidden within it.

The traces from last night had been blurred by moisture and muddy water, but near the second warning line, several claw marks remained that had not yet been completely erased. I carefully extended my fingertips and lightly ran them along the edges of the marks, feeling the coolness of the mud. Judging by the dampness, these traces could not have been left more than one night ago.

Less than three meters from the valley entrance, I suddenly noticed something unusual. In a patch of lush grass, one area had clearly been crushed flat, the blades torn off at the roots, with several fine strands hanging from the breaks. I cautiously crouched down and examined those strands. They looked fragile, but when I gently tugged them, I could clearly feel their toughness.

The strands reminded me of the fibers from nest vines, with their tough yet elastic texture. Doubts rose in my mind. Could there be some dangerous creature or trap here? I decided to return to camp and examine the strands further.

After returning to camp, I picked up the knife I had used last