Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

Abby

“Oh my go d, Abby… could it be?”

Karl’s eyes widen next to me. I crouch down to get a closer look at the dark mushrooms nestled in the dirt

at our feet.

“Yes,” I breathe, reaching out to run my finger along their tops. “This is it. Black truffles.”

This is exactly what we’ve been searching for, but something feels off, discordant in a way that pri cks at

my senses.

Karl crouches down beside me, his fingers gently touching the truffles. “They look genuine. But how is this

even possible? All these truffles growing this far from sunlight? I knew they needed low light, but this…”

Enter title…

His words are mirroring my thoughts exactly. “I don’t think they’re growing naturally,” I murmur, my eyes

scanning the cave, landing on something that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I point

upwards, my finger shaking slightly. “Look.”

Karl’s eyes follow my finger to the ceiling of the cave. Artificial lights hang overhead. They’re turned off

right now, likely to simulate a day/night cycle for the mushrooms that are growing here. That’s why there

are so many mushrooms in this cave; they’re being cultivated.

“Oh, s hit,” Karl whispers, his voice tinged with disbelief and a hint of dread. “You don’t think—”

“That these truffles are being cultivated? By the poachers?” My heart sinks as I complete his thought. I

should have known sooner, but I guess it never occurred to me until just now. “Yeah. I do.”

Karl rises to his feet, his face flushed, his eyes widening. “So should we take any?” he asks, glancing

mean,

to pick mushrooms, not to steal from illegal poachers. Not like

that we stole from their

with the

chalk it up to animals or something. And besides, we’re

ones exploiting

reassurance, perhaps questioning the fine line

Finally, he nods. “Okay. Let’s do it. But like you said, we’ll just take what

just enough so you can practice for

to work, we kneel back down beside the truffle

the tide in my quest to

I pluck the first truffle from the ground and place it into the

his own movements hesitant but growing steadier with

a lump of dark truffles gathered at its bottom like some sort of

flap over and fasten it, looking up to

the words sticking in my throat. “Let’s get back to the car, and

we’re caught.”

stopping a little

can see the sunlight through the loud, rushing water

than it was earlier this morning, which will make camouflaging ourselves a fair bit more

no turning back now. We gather ourselves, I sling my satchel over my

through the cascade of

hit the ground running, boots slipping on the wet rocks as we aim for the path leading back

we see them: guards, three of them, standing

committee. They’re just as shocked to see us, but that doesn’t

guns.

them barks, his eyes locking onto my mud-streaked satchel and

fingers.

at each other as one of the guards

The moment stretches thin, and I feel like

snaps

practiced movement, he shoves the guard on the far right, throwing

before they react, guns firing into the air

sprint away.