Gabriel stirred to the pangs of an insatiable thirst. The modest morning dew became his lifeline in the unforgiving wilderness. He moved toward each leaf, savoring the precious droplets that clung to their surfaces. With desperation, he licked each leaf dry, then chewed it, extracting any hint of moisture before discarding the fibrous residue.
His lips were cracking and painful with each breath. His throat a raw, arid cavern every time he swallowed. He clutched at his necklace and stared up, muttering, “Victra, save me. Please.”
He stumbled forward, all sense of time, direction, and purpose blurring. Counting steps became a grim reminder of the harrowing path to his potential end, so he stopped. Each movement was leaden; every inhalation felt like drawing breath through a cloth. Collapsing to the ground, the tendrils of resignation wrapped around him, the burden of despair weighing heavy. "Perhaps this is the end I deserve," he mused, eyelids heavy.
The haunting images of the prior day's delusion clung to his soul. While he'd never lifted a sword against his mother in the realm of reality, he understood the weapon was symbolic. It was his decisions, his actions, that had sealed her fate.
The precipice of despair loomed ever closer, its biting coldness gnawing at his very core. Doubts and self-recrimination consumed him, a storm of inner conflict. "From the castle's clutches to this forsaken wilderness. Is this my destiny?" he cackled. As hope faded, a sense of surrender took over. This forest will be my tomb.
For what seemed an endless expanse of time, Gabriel navigated through the labyrinthine forest. However, an abrupt rustling sound shattered his aimless wanderings. A colossal, wild boar emerged from the dense foliage. The creature's gaze was fixated on Gabriel, with its razor-sharp tusks gleaming threateningly in the muted light. The course, rugged fur that adorned its sturdy frame, told tales of battles with the unforgiving elements of their surroundings. It gave an aggressive snort, pawing the earth, telegraphing its intent.
As the boar lunged, Gabriel jolted into action. He positioned himself strategically in front of a stout tree. With each charge, he evaded, jumping at the last possible moment, causing the beast to slam into the unyielding bark. The resulting crashes resonated hauntingly through the trees.
The heft of the dagger at his side was a comforting presence, but he knew that confronting the beast directly would be a fool's errand. Those lethal tusks and the boar's raw power would easily best him, even if he could land a blow. Maybe I’m still a coward, he thought.
After its many thwarted charges, the beast shook its head from side to side. It’s agitation, palpable. Gabriel needed to find a way to escape. He scanned the terrain, his eyes locking onto a towering tree that stood like a sentinel in the wilderness—a potential haven in a moment of desperation. He dashed toward it, vaulting into the air to latch onto the first limb he could grab. His fingers were slick with sweat, but determination reinforced his grasp on the coarse bark as he hoisted himself upward. He drew a lungful of air, a torrent of relief flooding his senses when the branch proved sturdy enough to hold his weight.
Below him, the boar circled the base of the tree, its every snort a guttural symphony of frustration and impatience. The beast paused, its hooves scraping the soil as if to declare war upon the earth itself. Then it lunged, colliding with the tree with an impact that rattled Gabriel's precarious perch. He felt the branch quiver beneath him, a low groan of cracking wood reaching his ears. He cast his eyes skyward, searching for an escape route. But there were none. The higher branches were either too distant or too frail. A rueful thought skittered across his mind. A damn, stinking pig is going to kill me.
He was still weighing his limited options when the branch creaked again, louder this time. The boar had slammed into the tree once more, its malevolent eyes almost gleaming with the awareness that its prey was on the brink of falling into its lethal embrace.
Gabriel took a deep breath. In, out, in, out. His mind crystalizing. He knew what he needed to do. He pulled the dagger from his belt. As the boar readied another charge, he tightened his grip. With a resounding thud, the creature collided with the tree, momentarily stunned by the force of its own attack.
Seizing the opportunity, Gabriel leapt. Dagger outstretched, he descended like a bolt of human lightning, targeting the boar’s skull. His body weight, magnified by the pull of gravity, allowed the blade to penetrate deeply into the creature’s head. At the moment of contact, a chilling cacophony of squeals erupted from the boar, each note tinged with bewilderment and pain. Gabriel clamped his legs around the animal's heaving torso as it bucked and thrashed in a frenzy of desperation. Gripping the hilt of his dagger, he wrenched it free, and then plunged it back again and again, each strike accompanied by the baleful sound of grunts and shrieks.
Finally, the beast staggered and collapsed, its life ebbing away in a final, quivering sigh. Gabriel vaulted from its back just in time, disentangling himself from the mass of fur and muscle that had nearly been his undoing.
He stood back, his breaths now coming easier, and looked down at the vanquished predator. Lying on its side, its once-fiery eyes dimmed and its snout relaxed, the boar no longer embodied the ferocious creature that had stalked him. In this stillness, it seemed almost peaceful, as if it had shed the mantle of menace to reveal a simpler, more primal nature.
For a brief moment, Gabriel felt a tinge of sadness pass through him—a fleeting recognition of the life he'd extinguished, and the complex interplay of hunter and hunted that he'd forever altered. Then he shook off the sentiment, reminding himself that in the unforgiving theater of the wild, it was often kill or be killed. But as he turned away, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the boundary between predator and prey was sometimes perilously thin, and the line between life and death etched in the most fleeting of moments.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
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Gabriel felt the twin burdens of fatigue and despair vying to pull him into the abyss below. Sleep was fleeting and fraught, broken by every mysterious sound from the depths of the forest.
As the first hints of dawn pierced the canopy, a fleeting shadow caught his attention. Lifting his weary gaze, he spotted a wondrous vision. A kaleidoscope of Velictras in flight. It was strange to see the birds flying below the canopy.
A faint smile touched his chapped lips. "At least I'll have died seeing something beautiful again," he mused.
Watching the Velictras, a spark of resolve ignited within Gabriel. They are my guide through this forest. They’ll light my path ahead. He knew the birds would inevitably seek water, potentially leading him to his own salvation.
Re-energized, he ran in pursuit of salvation. At every turn, the rugged forest floor tested him. He stumbled over gnarled roots, thorny branches grazed him, and the dense undergrowth often ensnared his steps. Yet, he pressed on, fueled by sheer tenacity.
Time blurred until, at last, the soft cadence of trickling water teased his senses. Tears, born from a blend of relief and desperation, welled in his eyes. He quickened his pace, praying that the sound wasn't a cruel trick of his beleaguered mind.
Before him lay a serene stream, its crystalline waters weaving a delicate path through the woods. Overwhelmed, he immediately dropped to his knees at the bank, submerging his face into the rejuvenating embrace of the stream. He drank with an unbridled thirst, but in his zeal, his stomach rebelled, causing him to cough and sputter the water he'd so desperately consumed.
Wiping his mouth, a fit of hacking laughter overcame him. He approached the stream with newfound respect, taking smaller, measured sips.
His gaze then descended to his hands, stained with the dried, dark testament of his deeds. The crimson remnants of his past actions clung stubbornly to his skin. Frantically, he scrubbed, yearning to wash away the haunting reminders of the lives he took. Yet, while the stream could cleanse the tangible evidence, the emotional ones remained, the phantom feeling of blood, forever on his hands.
Peeling off his dirt-caked garments, Gabriel submerged himself in the stream. The cool water cascaded over him, washing away layers of filth, sweat, and haunting recollections. Fresh cuts and bruises, which were previously masked by the dirt, became visible as the grime dissolved in the water. Each stream's caress brought a sting, a slight bite of pain as it grazed these wounds. Emerging from the water, he felt a paradoxical sensation: while his body was undeniably cleaner, the raw exposure of his injuries made him feel more vulnerable, more sullied than before.
Over the subsequent days, he remained uncertain of his exact direction. He held onto the hope that by tracing the water's path, he would find his way out. He was relieved that it flowed downhill, making his journey somewhat less arduous.
Periodically, the ethereal sight of the Velictras would grace the skies above. Whenever their iridescent forms glided overhead, he would murmur a silent thank you, attributing his newfound hope and direction to these luminous avians.
As he trekked onward, the haunting strains of his mother's last lullaby ebbed and flowed from his lips.
“My dear child, my precious flower, you’ll unfurl when springtime’s in view… Blooming divine, your life is my boon.”
While this singular verse was but a fragment of the entire lullaby, he repeated it incessantly. His voice, roughened from the trials, imbued the melody with a raw poignancy. Each repetition bore the weight of his grief and longing, acting as both a balm for his wounded soul and an ode to the cherished memories of days gone by.
Days of gnawing hunger had hollowed Gabriel, and his body screamed for nourishment. Amidst the shimmering dance of the stream, he glimpsed the glint of silver, small fish darting gracefully below the water's surface. Their agile movements teasing his ravenous state.
Every muscle in his body throbbed with a need to feast. He attempted to snatch them, but the nimble fish eluded him, slipping through his fingers. His hunger was palpable, but his weakened reflexes betrayed him.
He quickly shed his tunic. Holding it taut, he submerged it partway into the stream, fashioning a makeshift net. After several intense moments, his persistence bore fruit. A fish, caught in the fabric's grip, thrashed wildly. Gabriel's face lit up with triumph. Without hesitation, he struck the fish's head against a nearby stone, silencing its desperate wriggles.
Summoning memories of lessons, Gabriel set out to ignite a fire. He had been reticent to do so, even amidst the cold, in case it attracted unwanted attention. But he needed to eat. With two sticks in hand, he tried to mimic the friction-based technique he had once heard of. His hands moved with fervent determination, seeking the elusive spark. Yet, the chasm between theory and practice became painfully evident. Time dragged on, his hands chafed and raw, but the comforting warmth of a flame remained out of reach.
Left without alternatives and driven by a hunger that gnawed at his core, he reluctantly bit into the raw fish. Its icy, slimy texture was an assault on his senses. The taste was nothing short of repugnant. But in that desperate moment, survival outweighed refinement. Sharp bones cut into the inside of his cheek, but Gabriel was no longer a dignified Prince, instead, he was a wild creature driven by primal instinct.
After his meal, Gabriel gingerly removed his shoes, revealing feet marred with painful blisters. The raw, red patches stood in stark contrast to his pale skin, each one a testament to the miles he had travelled. He gently massaged his ankle, the tenderness a constant reminder of the earlier strain. The coolness of the stream beckoned, and he submerged his feet, hoping the water would offer some solace. Every ripple sent a soothing chill to the inflamed areas, a brief respite from the relentless ache.
Days melded seamlessly into nights as Gabriel trailed the stream's path. Occasionally, he'd lose his watery guide, only to rediscover it, or another just like it. The forest provided sustenance, and he partook of its bounty — save for the berries, having learned of their potential peril and not wanting to challenge fate again.
On the fifteenth day, fatigue weighing on his bones and his attire in ragged disrepair, the oppressive shade of the Dark Forest began to lift. A transformation in the trees, a fresh, expansive aroma, and the sprawling horizon signaled his departure. Spread out before him were the undulating hills and dales of Balatia. A profound sense of relief surged within him. Despite insurmountable challenges, Gabriel had traversed the shadows and now stood on the cusp of a new beginning.