May is rocked back against the trunk's hollow from the pressure but the noise is by far the worst part, even with hands over her ears to try and block it out. It lasts for barely a split second, ending before she even really registers it, but it lingers in her memories and makes her head throb with the beginnings of a migraine. May drops down onto her bottom, legs shaky.

Vincenzo sits up, leaning forward with his elbows propped on raised knees. There's a dark scowl on his face. "I'm getting real sick of this bullshit."

Marcus crosses his arms, still lying on the ground where he pre-emptively tossed himself. "Why are we still awake despite the noise being just as loud as before, or at least close to it? Does it have a range of effect? Perhaps it's not the noise that's causing this…"

Ian turns his head to see the rest of them, also splayed out and not moving anytime soon. "If there's another group now, then they'll take even more time to get here, and the weird thing will probably drop off another group before then. We'll be waiting here forever."

"Indeed," Marcus muses. "We have to keep moving; get far enough that we don't feel the impact."

There's a quiet 'snick' of a lighter as Kisung holds a small square shaped leaf in his other hand.

"No burning the forest down," Ian protests, rolling to his feet to stop Kisung.

May rubs her temples as the throbbing subsides. "Maybe you should use the lighter. It's getting darker and I don't think that's just the clouds."

The boys look out over the grassland at the sky blocked out with dark clouds. It's getting darker at a visible rate. They all get to their feet and quickly start walking deeper into the forest at a fast pace, heading for the 'pitstop'.

Marcus insists he knows the way and everyone is incredibly surprised when he actually does. Right before the light fades to a pitch black, they see a large wall made of the mushroom trunks, at least ten meters tall. As they get closer, they still can't hear any noise – no bustle or talking and it's too dark. It's not that late, there should be some people, or some lights.

Ian takes a two dollar coin out of his pocket. "Heads, they're friendly. Tails, they're cannibals." Ian flips it up, fumbles the catch in the low light and slaps it onto the back of his other hand.

Marcus peeks first and abruptly snatches it away before anyone else can see. "Let's not."

They get closer to the gate and while May slows down, the boys speed up.

"Yo!" Ian calls out. "Open says me! Sesame?"

Vincenzo kicks the drawbridge-like door. "If you're not cannibals then I promise we're not either!" Vincenzo grins as he says this which looks a lot like a threat.

Someone appears above, looking over the wall. "Step back! Let us see you!"

Ian struts around as they all back away and he even strikes a few poses. The teenagers peer up, seeing more people gather above. The one who called out sounded American, which is still alien enough that they're on guard.

A dim yellow torch light flickers on, pointed at the students. Marcus puts on his good boy smile and May waves while the other three squint past the light in annoyance.

"…hey're new…onsters…" a voice with an Irish accent says a bit too loudly from the wall.

Vincenzo opens his mouth to call back up but Marcus elbows him to be quiet. After a long while, the drawbridge creaks loudly as it slowly lowers and they move to the side as it comes down.

The door reveals several people in worn and torn clothing looking wary as they study the teenagers and the forest around, clutching badly made stone and mushroom-wood weapons. One is holding another torch, the light flickering from a nearly used battery, or maybe the torch is just old and battered.

"Come in," the woman holding the second torch says, something northern Europe. "Quickly, there are animals outside."

Vincenzo takes the lead as they head over the drawbridge, the small crowd of people parting around them.

The teenagers weren't expecting much, so despite the brief flare of optimism when they spotted the community, no one is exactly surprised when the woman leads them further into the base along empty dirt streets.

Kisung glances back over his shoulder, most of the initial crowd staying at the gate, with only the blonde woman and a Caucasian man with brown hair leading them. Kisung is getting a very cultish vibe from how everyone is blatantly staring at the teenagers. 

It's a small place, maybe a ten minute walk from one side to the other, with ramshackle houses barely more than huts leaning against each other to stay propped up. Some wooden walls are rotting with moss everywhere so this climate must normally be a wet one.

Ian peers around, most interested in the tiny garden beds with strange plants in hues of purple that sit around every primitive house. Vegetables gardens maybe, since God knows none of these frail people could hunt, looking like a strong breeze could whip past and they'd fall away into dust. They're not starving or sick, just…worn down.

There are makeshift wheelbarrows and buckets, plus a whole pulley system set up around a half-built house. It's not bad, could be far worse.

The place is very quiet, but people do peer out of ajar front doors or gaps in the wooden walls. It almost seems like the community is overcrowded if anything, which makes the silence eerie.

It doesn't look like this place is any kind of safe haven.