That night was harrowing. I constantly woke up, plagued by nightmares of hunger, the bone-chilling cold, unbearable stench, and a constant feeling of slowly drowning. I must have finally collapsed at some point because the next view that graced me was a lazy beam of light that somehow found its way into the cave. I honestly hate it when people do that to me. I slowly rose to a sitting position, and suddenly, some of my nightmares made sense, at least in regards to stench and drowning. It should come as no surprise that I was covered in gunk again, I did drink that weird substance after all. To add insult to injury, leaves that made my bedding, were now firmly glued to my body. I must look like some demented dream of eco fashionista. The day started just the way I hate, way too early, with exception of workdays. Everyone knows to not approach me without a coffee offering before 9 am. And since there is no coffee on the horizon…

Despite my annoyance, hunger pains, cricks in my neck, and weariness, I do feel my mind being much clearer than yesterday, not to mention the day before. The sense of wrongness from yesterday is intensified but right now I ‘Need Food’. Cave works for now as my shelter and the stream is not far off. Hopefully, Rancid Boundary Ltd. will work and critters here will be discouraged from breaching the treeline near my cave or that line towards the stream. I don’t delude myself though, come first rain and all that gunk gonna wash away, and with that, my only way to deter animals. For now...let’s just hope.

With the gunk-covered stick, I make my way back to the stream. Dirty leaves get tossed around in a circle, for now, this will be my bathing spot. This time I need a bit less effort to get clean, but now that I’m both watered down and squeaky clean, it’s time to get to work. The first order of business is flint. Yesterdays find is extremely important because flint equals tools for now. I possess only the most rudimentary knowledge on how knapping is done. Just bits and pieces from history books and the internet. I do not hope for success but I will definitely try. My yield is a big pile of stones on the riverbank. When I have been looking for flint nodules, I was especially targetting those stones with a grainy texture. I honestly don’t know if those are the right ones but I will soon know. Speaking of flint, those flakes from yesterday? It was two lucky shots in a row, during my search now I have found the grand zero of those. Not to mention, those flakes were duds anyway. I was definitely not computing well yesterday. The flake’s edges were dull after being left for way too long, exposure to running water must have dulled them. I must have ripped out more hair than cut. Even cutting those leaves for bedding was an exercise in futility. In the end, I just ripped them off in a rage.

My search for flint is interrupted by a low growl and cramps of my stomach. I sit, warily checking my surroundings but internally trying to find an idea of what to eat. Even if this is a lush jungle the stream appears to be too brisk, the mountain is close. Can these waters have fish? I know next to nothing about fishing.

I frown, why am I not checking the forest for fruits? This is a tropical forest for crying out loud. Bananas, coconut, mango, figs, and if I find some unknown fruit I can do a universal edibility test to make sure. There are also insects. Avoid beetles, hairy ones, colorful ones. Should be left with some variety. I have read that people survived on grubs for months. There are also raptors. Ahh right. Dinosaurs. And I met one just here, on this riverbank. The moment I recall this meetup I feel like my mind slows down and cold creeps into my gut. Minutes pass as I blankly gaze into the jungle, looking for a familiar now feathery crest.

Black spots start to appear in my vision again but they do not consume me like before. They just hover there, on the edge of my sight, buzzing like annoying flies. They bombard me with visions of many ways of me being eaten by hungry dinosaurs. The annoyance is actually the reason I come back to myself not too long after. Those dizzy spells are crippling me and I swear, with each occurrence, I find a new and newer depth of rage at this fact. Why they appear now. Is it fear? Is it fear bombarding me with vivid pictures of my demise? Is this PTSD? Or is it just....actually hold that thought. I always had a very energetic and robust imagination. This just feels like the perfect way to kick me in the nuts, on top of everything that has already happened. I huff angrily and again try to rouse myself up and risk the damn jungle. Even with water, I will not make it for long. Each day I will be weaker and soon more and more avenues to procure food will close. My fat reserves will not hold long with this kind of slog but maybe, just today I should go back to the cave and just chill.

I pat my reserves only to find none. With shock, I eye my stomach and instead of a proud beer belly, I see a flat wall and loose skin. It really looks like someone just took a straw and sucked out all fatty goodness inside. I gaze around in disbelief. That...should not happen? Not as fast at least? Was my haze that much longer? Am I stranded in this jungle that much longer? I do not feel like it. Then my imagination supplies the likely culprit. The miracle water from the cave. Now that I think about it, shouldn’t I be dead already? My wounds got healed, yes, but infections and disease that surely that lizard had? Well, I’m alive yet and do not feel like I’m gonna keel over any second so maybe it also combats infections? Is that water some kind of catalyst that supercharges my metabolism? Kicks my cells into furious overdrive? And then uses stored energy to supply the process? Is the vile gunk byproduct, the ultimate body waste? I don’t have much time for levity in this time of crisis but… I did kinda gave her permission to heal me, right? Heh.

This brings me back to the very point of this rambling. I really don’t want another meetup with fucking raptor. I’m weak, weaponless and I’m not sure that even fully kitted out with firearms I would not survive another encounter. Those hunt in packs supposedly. But what is the alternative? Slow death via malnutrition.

This silent rage did clear my mind a bit but I’m getting weary of this constant tug of war. I really have to think, but right now food takes precedence. With a wary step, I enter the jungle. I lead the way with a shit stick and formulate a plan. I will check around both the jungle boundary and the path that leads from cave to stream. I will not go too deep, just enough to scan surroundings better for any fruit-bearing plants and maybe fallen trunks, those may hide some treasures underneath.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

                                &

My foraging was nerve-wracking. I was constantly on guard, checking every different plant and expecting the attack to come from every direction, even from above. During the day I collected many items and even made a trip back to the stream to collect stones and some other stuff.

And now I sit in my cave in front of my bounty and I just can’t stop my grimace. Foraging for food did yield something. First are small red fruits and even though they passed the test their taste was...let’s just say they are a deranged cousin of jalapenos, not to mention they have an annoying tendency to pop open when squeezed, spraying their seeds and juices around. Only miracle warded me from having my eyes full of capsaicin. That would be for fruits, which is damn depressing. On the other hand, I did bring back quite a selection of mushrooms. Yeah, I did forget that those exist actually for a moment there. I do have some rashes now on my hands but I started with a really impressive variety. And now, mushrooms small and big, with colors ranging from earthly browns to yellow lay before me. And the reason for my grimace? I’m not entirely sure I want to try eating them raw, even with my mouth salivating right here and now. This turns my thoughts back to another thing. The Miracle Water. This stuff helped me digest raw meat, not to mention it came from a carrion eater. That first hurl yesterday was not compromised of undigested meat and whatever, just black, vile gunk.

No, I did not forget, just filed it for later review. I don’t like the idea that I went completely feral and ripped apart an animal in a wild feeding frenzy. I’m saying to myself that I was not in control. I was scared beyond anything I ever experienced, hungry beyond any measure. That and if my conjectures on how Miracle Water works, my body refused to eat itself to heal me. So it went for the closest supplier. The thought of losing control of my actions is terrifying but I hope that was only an extreme case.

Going back to the problem at hand. I might risk eating shrooms raw and then sloshing it down with Miracle Water. It would be nice if it also cured poisons and venoms but I don’t want to push my luck. Might change the name to Cure-It-All if it does, though.

The rest of what I gathered consists of a great number of fallen branches, many different types of grasses and leaves, some stones brought from the stream, a few of the bigger bones of my first prey(they did get a thorough wash in the stream) and finally my belt and buckle. As it happens I do have one, though it had to be cleaned from gunk, or rather, ripped from smelly carapace my past clothes fused into.

Bless my honorary step-father’s soul. When I visited the south USA years ago as an exchange student, I would never anticipate that now my love for belts and big heavy buckles would give me a hand here. With this and flint I have a real chance to get a fire going. Now though, I need to prep. Sun-dried branches, small and big are getting sorted. That dud flake from yesterday gets a good scratch on the cavern’s wall to just get a bit rougher edge, but I don’t need sharpness now. Then I sit and sort the grasses and leaves, green and flexible ones here, those more dry and stiff there. Then I proceed to grind those drier grasses along its length to get fiber to splinter and become a bundle of crisscrossing threads. I’m met with varying degrees of success but I manage to scrounge a handful of promising threads, hopefully, they will catch sparks easily.

And now time for the finale. I ready a small campfire guarded by a circle of rocks at the mouth of the cave. Close to the fiber bundle, I start to strike. Time passes and I have no results to show. Is the buckle plated with some shit I don’t need right now? Is my striking angle wrong? Is the flint edge dull? I try all that I can think of. Scrape buckle as best I can. Try a multitude of new flints, ugly and rough ones, but with at least one sharp edge. Change striking angle again and again. As the day ends and night falls I…

“I’M GETTING SICK OF THIS SHIT!”, with a kick the fireplace gets scattered around.

“Fuck you and this place! I fucking shouldn’t be here!”, the buckle flies outside and disappears in the night.

“I am stranded in some godforsaken place, with fucking dinos, fucking two suns and hell knows what fucking else!”, prepared bundles of wood fly and bounce around the cave.

“Is that it? Some fucked up lost in another world shit?! What have I done?! What bullshit karma is it?!”, I see red, I can literally see red flooding my eyes. I hobble out of the cave and roar not minding my burning throat.

“Fuck you! Fuck you till infinity God, Devil, or whatnot! What’s next on your deranged agenda?! Aliens?! Zombies?! Maybe some elven slut to screw with a side dish of slaying a Demon Lord?!”, I have trouble breathing now.

“ANSWER MEEEEEEEE!!!”, my scream becomes a deranged shriek.

And the world answers.

It started as a low rumble spreading through the jungle. Then timbre rose and soon, somewhere far away, a full-blown roar that I could never match shattered the silence of the night. All I could do was to stay frozen and whimper weakly in surrender. Black knives of haze slashed at my mind. It’s the same roar that broke me in my dreams. And now it broke me yet again. Whimpering and trailing piss behind me, I retreated into the cave on all fours. There, at the very back, I sat huddled and with wide eyes open, waited for the end. It will come, right? Just one big bite, one fast slash, and no more pain, right? I will wake up at home, or at the hospital.

I sat there frozen, gripped by terror but I did not dare to call my executioner to hasten, I was chastised enough. But he did not come. I waited and waited, growing weary. If it does not come then how will I get out of here? Then I saw the small triangular face of the carrion eater. I was shaking now, tears and snot flowing freely. It came back. It came for me.

“Do it”, my raspy whisper barely registers in my ears. “I’m too cowardly to take my own life”, I can’t hear it closing on me, nor can my eyes spy on it anymore, it’s total darkness in the cave.

“Please.”, I wait in silence but death does not come, nor the lizard. Weak sobs wrack my throat. “How did it know?” I ask myself. “How did it know I’m a liar. That I lie every time to everyone. I’m sorry.”, silence.

Then I find myself crawling again, this time towards the exit. My hands search and find bulbous forms of mushrooms. My hands are like shovels and I gorge myself fully. One of those berries must have gotten mixed, for there is a sudden explosion of pain and fire in my mouth. But I don’t care. I devour even more and soon can’t find any left. My burning tongue licks the ground until I find familiar depression and I drink whatever is in it. Full, I barely register rising cramps in my belly as fire engulfs my mind and I pass out.