“You are a hero, are you not?”

The first thing our hero listened the moment he took back his senses was a voice. Not only that, but it was also a question he was used to receive right before a plead for help… which was bad. That voice’s tone was disconcerting, could make him feel exhausted in mere seconds. Those words would ignite his sense of duty, would make him sweet and feel something stuck on his throat.

“Please! I need a hero!” The voice said as he suspected.

It was a plead for help. Our hero was about to escape a light anxiety just to fall in a stunning nausea. He felt as the air had gone away from his chest and suddenly breathing was getting difficult. I don’t want it, he thought. I don’t want to help anyone. It was when he decided to take a deep breath, maybe try to calm down. It was never going to work but was worth trying.

He was laid but couldn’t remember the reason. Maybe had stopped to rest for a while, maybe had been sleeping for ages. His memory was blurry, couldn’t remember a thing from the night before… or the night before that. He then realized how much his head was hurting, not as a drunk who wakes up in a hangover morning e feels like his head is about to explode. He felt like his head had been blown up long time ago, that was making a huge effort to keep its pieces together.

Our hero, as brave as he was, opened his eyes. It was a sunny afternoon, bright enough to hurt his view specially looking at the sky. He started to wonder if these pains were a sign for him to not wake up nor help anyone. Made sense, but no. It was more likely he had been sleeping for a long time.

“You woke up!”, she said smiling. It was a little girl’s voice, somewhere around nine years old. She was kneeled by his side, maybe watching his sleep. It was hard to say for how long she’d been there. They both were in what seemed to be a forest, not so dense, but filled with trees so big that by their side our hero seemed nothing but a big bug. The ground many times wasn’t soil but the roots of these trees intertwining with each other, making an irregular terrain. Besides the ones around there was one even greater which could be seen even by the end of the horizon, one to rule them all. This tree, like everything in the scenario, was too green it could hurt to stare.

“Why don’t you ask any o— “

“I need your help!” The girl said without thinking twice. She made a decision. She would make our hero help her. Her eyes told she wasn’t going anywhere until he accepted her request. It, in turn, wasn’t helping a thing. Our hero saw in her eyes something worse than hell, there was hope on then, hope in him. He took a deep breath, turn his view from her and felt his belly upset as never. Began scratching the back of his head, thinking what to do. He felt guilty, still not enough to want to help.

While pondering, he noted a leaf suddenly fallen on his shoulder. He took it just to see it was too brown for the usual green in that forest. Then another one fell, and this was black as coal. Unmade itself by touch.

“I need help”, she continued. The landscape changed until the bright green from moments before was replaced by a deep blue. In second, the sunlight was gone taken place by dark clouds full of rage in their blows. A huge storm was forming, winds so fast it was often hard to breath. If there were any animals, they seemed to have disappeared. The trees, once full of life, became as black as that last leaf, now rotten to their core. Life had gone away, such as that little girl. While our hero watched his environment changing right in front of his eyes, she simply disappeared.

Nothing he had seen was real. He had it sure. It was impossible a storm to start in so little time, it was impossible for a forest so full of life to just die in mere seconds. Maybe it had been a dream, maybe an illusion. He only knew that dense and green forest didn’t exist or simply wasn’t there for real. The big tree that would overcome all the others and whose roots would spread everywhere wasn’t there anymore. Now all left was a gigantic, chipped stump made from the dark wood, as a mirror of everything around it.

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While watching the first drops of water falling, our hero heard a strange noise and, by impulse, put himself between it and the little girl. When he realized there wasn’t any girl to protect and that he should be more concerned with his own safety, besides pathetic he felt confused. He didn’t want to defend anyone in first place. He didn’t want to be a hero. He wanted to lay down again in that sunny afternoon and maybe sleep until rot to dust, but apparently, he couldn’t. His body was moving against his wishes, his mind acting faster than himself could notice. He realized it didn’t matter how much he argued, the decision had been taken the moment he heard that little girl.

“Alright!”, he declared as loud as he could, hoping she would listen wherever she was. “I’ll help you!”. Finally, he stood up. Didn’t run or even went after that noise. He just waited patiently to be attacked as the water dumped his thin hair. He tried to observe carefully everything in the surrounding, but it was hard to see with the sun covered and so many trees ahead. It was hard to listen anything in a storm so violent. The situation was bad. He was in disadvantage and knew that. But you won’t give up, will you? He asked himself. That’s not the sort of thing a hero would do.

Hero this. Hero that. For heavens above, he was tired of heroes. What is a hero anyway? Hero. The very word gave him goosebumps. Wasn’t sure why but hated it. Hated everything around the idea of hero so much as he could. Who in their sane minds would want to be a hero? Maybe if he weren’t one, he wouldn’t be in that distasteful situation. But complaint wouldn’t take him anywhere. Sure thing, he had to stay calm. He had to breath in and…

The time our hero snapped back to the world he saw the tiger pressing his chest against the ground with claws and paws. A great white tiger, maybe twice as large as a regular one. Mouth wide open for a roar so powerful it could shake de very ground. Its breath smelling like death and its teeth pointy as needles. But aside a possible assassin intention, there was something unsettling about all of that. Our hero knew in his heart he had seen that tiger before. There was something on it strangely familiar. In fact, he could swear he had passed through that same situation long before.

It didn’t take long, however, so he realized it didn’t really matter. What did matter was the acute pain of his skin being teared off right before his eyes. It got worse each time he tried to push himself away, so he remained as quiet as could. In the sight of that beat’s throat, he could see his end. As each second passed, each scenario turned more probable, none of them in which he remained headed. The panic was running wild through his veins as the tiger’s mouth approached. His blood was as cold as ice. His hands hold firmly the ground underneath. He was sure his time had come when, of a sudden, he escaped.

Ran as fast as could, not remotely as fast as he should. He was breathless, bleeding and in deep pain. Ran just as a prey only trying to buy a few more moments before the inevitable. Didn’t dare to look back. Knew well there was no hope in facing that creature, not that there was any hope. Still, he kept running. Body bumping into the trees, clumsy feet threatening to trip. But he kept running.

At least until he felt to his knees. Tried to cushion the fall with hands, but it didn’t stop him from feeling all wounds at once. His blood falling through the sides, dropping through his hands, reach the ground. No way to stop it from fleeing his body. Our hero was weakening more each second passed, the thrill leaving him letting room for a weighty tiredness. The forest around was turning into a slippery swamp, roots and branches making a treacherous terrain to walk, let alone run. But he didn’t have any choice and kept going as still could.

It was not long, however, before he felt an enormous pressure pushing him to the ground. There was the tiger once again, only madder. Made sure to pierce in his prey’s skin to prevent further escape. Our hero screamed from the bottom of his heart, fire in his back and tears in his eyes. Noted now a broken rib close from shattering, suffering so much as could. He was starting to lose his consciousness when, out of the sudden, saw a shadow flying over his head. It was an arrow, darting its way much faster than it should. It hit the tiger right in his forehead and distracted it just enough so our hero could, once more, run.

But he couldn’t stand running and all left was to stagger as further as possible. Was now leaning on nearby trees, pulling himself forward by pure stubbornness. So much for being a hero, our hero laughed himself as his vision started to blur. His eyes as heavy as anvils. He could still hear the tiger roar, not approaching, yet not so far from there. In the face of pure desperation, strength proving itself elusive as the very rain drops drenching his hair, he couldn’t stop from thinking all that ironic. Maybe he was right, maybe he shouldn’t have accepted to help. Heroes, as he vaguely remembered, didn’t last long in these islands. It was in this quote his legs finally collapsed, leaving his body for the cold and lonely mud. He now was so alive as that rotten forest.