After the grueling days of carving through the regrowing vines, you get a bit of respite as the vegetation begins to thin out. It feels almost inviting, something which causes you to be on alert. Sure enough, shouting breaks the peace. A fight breaks out near one of the wagons. You stride back down the line to find a knot of soldiers shouting at one another.

You slam your weapon into a nearby wagon to cut off their argument. One of the soldiers steps forward and points a finger angrily at the others.

"I saw them go off the path! They got near the cysts! They're infected!"

"Liar, you got your thinking all backwards. We've been here the whole time," one of the others shouts back in reply.

There is no way to know for sure if they are in fact infected. And they would not admit to it if they were. If they are, it could be dangerous to the entire army. They show no signs of the spores now, but you know the black cloud disgorged by the cysts can take its time killing someone. They may even infect others without showing any symptoms. If they are infected they are already dead. If they are not, your decision may have the same effect. Looking at the other soldiers, you know what they think of the idea of having 'infected' in their midst. Soldiers are a superstitious lot.

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