Hammer against the anvil. Where my head is the anvil getting pounded at with steady, repetitive, and relentless beats. It hurts. It feels like my skull is going to crack at any moment.

"…UGH"

I tried to open my eyes, a task that proved to be difficult as bright light assaulted me, driving the drumming headache to worsen. After closing my eyes for a moment and repeatedly blinking, I manage to open them again.

A beautiful blue sky greeted me, surrounded by white, large, fluffy clouds like cotton candy. A vertically rising mass of rock to the left side of my vision hides the sun behind it.

A sunny winter sky, my favorite type of sky, and I would've enjoyed the view if not for the wave of nausea and dizziness threatening to spill out my insides.

...and the alarming fact that I don't fucking know where am I.

I look around, my eyesight becoming slightly better now that I am starting to adjust to the headache and ringing in my ears. I am lying on something mushy, and cold at the base of what appears to be a dozen of meters high cliff. To my right, facing off the mass of rocks, a large expanse of trees covered with moss, leaves, and snow.

I pushed myself up and tried to stand only to stumble as a sharp pain radiated from my left ankle. I let out a grunt and looked down at my foot and took a moment to examine it. Fortunately, it isn't broken but it's definitely sprained and will definitely hurt later.

Things aren't boding well.

I tested my weight on my injured foot. The injured ankle and the cliff behind me provided some ideas as to what happened to me, which is probably falling down the cliff. Yet it doesn't explain why or how did I get here. The last things that I remember, while it may not be clear thanks to the headache, I still recall the sweaty day of July and the bustling crowd of the city, which are the exact opposite of the cold, white, peaceful nature I was seeing right now.

Amnesia.

Partial memory loss is the only plausible explanation that comes to mind, as that would also explain the fucking headache every time I tried to remember. I quickly went through my pockets trying to find a phone or anything that can be useful in this situation. Unfortunately, there's nothing except for a lighter and an old black pocket watch which is per se useful albeit a bit odd, just not helpful in finding my way back home, wherever "home" might be. At least the clothes that I am wearing are meant for cold weather and are relatively intact, so they're somewhat warm.

I shook my head to disperse any useless thought. I am in the middle of the freezing nowhere with memory loss, a sprained ankle, a lighter, and a watch that indicates it's about 3 pm in the afternoon, and knowing winter's days' lengths I don't have much before dark fall. Which would be no different than a death sentence in this situation. The cold is enough to kill anyone stupid enough or unprepared to venture outside after dark. And the less said about the night predators the better. As for hunger, I can do something about it, gramps taught me enough about hunting and foraging to at least make sure that I am alive long enough when hopefully a rescue team arrives.

I shook my head once more and started limping in the direction of the forest. Climbing back up the cliff is practically impossible even if my foot was intact. This leaves me with only one choice; the forest. Wherever it's finding food, shelter, or getting around the cliff I would need to go through the woods, thankfully the ground isn't slippery, so at least I won't slip or end up hurting myself more.

Tall, thick brown trunk, strewn with snow. Pine trees, tall and gnarled, spread apart from each other, leaving wide spaces in between them. The air is crisp and cold. The woods were silent, save for the occasional crunch of sticks underfoot and birds chirping in the distance or the branches and leaves rustling jolting me now and then. Despite all the noise, the only consistent sound is the beating of my heart and my breathing, which is getting steadily louder and faster as I continue to walk. I'm beginning to panic a little, now that the dizziness ceased. The only thing keeping my fear under control is the little experience I had under gramps, which I am starting to realize may not have been enough.

Hoping to distract my mind a bit, I instinctively took out the pocket watch, turning it over in my hands. It's fairly old, but it's surprisingly well kept considering how ancient it looked. It's black, with no chain, and a little rust around the edges but otherwise appears undamaged. A rose was embossed on the back of its cover, along with some symbols, which I find strange. I am pretty sure that I never saw any similar symbols yet... yet the strange part is I can read them.

- Roses in winter. Only the strong survive -

Another sentence was engraved on the inside of the cover that read

- Be a strong Rose. Vic -

Romantic, poetic, and clichéd at the same time. Yet it's also oddly inspiring, giving me a weird sense of déjà vu.

This amnesia is getting frustrating.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Questions I don't know how to answer are piling up, but there's one word that won't leave my mind after reading the pocket watch engraving, echoing like a mantra...

Survive.

A word that I only heard on TV or from the cynical old man. But now, the gravity of my situation finally started to sink in, leaving me feeling helpless. I am alone, lost, and in the middle of a forest surrounded by unfamiliar woods, unable to remember anything that got me here. I assumed there will be a rescue team but that is just the city boy in me talking. Counting on any type of help is foolish and dangerous.

Just as pessimistic thoughts began to emerge, I saw it. Hope. A smile grew on my face, my shoulders sagging with relief. There, ahead, smoke could be seen rising high above the trees, and I knew this meant someone was there. Hoping that I haven't foolishly mistaken the emerging mist for smoke, I ran forward, making sure not to put much stress on my left foot.

My breathing picked up as I approached the smoke. And with it the mist seemed to get thicker, obscuring the surroundings more and more. After what seemed like an eternity, I could see it, the source of the smoke, I quickened my pace until I am in front of what seemed a hunting cabin. I thought as such thanks to the deer skull nailed on top of the porch.

I am not unfamiliar with cottages used by hunters, yet this one seemed a bit unusual. With its worn-out wooden door frame and the dark stained window and what appear to be dried blood stains on the porch steps. The mist hung heavily in the air, giving the house an ominous vibe. And I don't know when but the birds stopped their singing and chirping leaving only an eerie silence that felt unnerving.

"Hello, anyone in there!"

My shout was more of a way to disperse the creeping feeling of dread that started forming inside of me. Still, no response came. The smoke coming out of the chimney indicates someone's presence. So it's either they are out, or in a condition that doesn't allow them to hear. Scenarios from horror movies raced through my head, savage killers hunting humans as a game, a serial killer using a hunter cabin as a base, even the creepy old witch from Hansel and Gretel come to mind albeit that the house isn't made of candy.

I shook my head and forced myself to move forward, getting scared will only impede me, and the freezing death of the night is much worse than entering the abode of a horrid crinkly man-eating witch. I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the feeling of unease growing within me, and knocked on the door.

No response.

"Sorry for disturbing you, I got lost and was wondering if I could get some help"

I pushed the door and it easily opened with a creaking noise. The smell of mildew, smoke, and burnt wood filled my nostrils. The small fire in the chimney and the old barn lantern hanging on the wall made everything seem so much smaller and darker. The room is packed with odd decorations and hunting trophies, yet devoid of any human presence.

I walked into the room, the wooden floor making a creaking sound that echoed throughout the place. Approaching the hearth, I draw my freezing hands near its warmth as I took a more thorough look around. A one-person bed was laid against the wall facing the entrance. The hearth is on the left wall, with two shelves on either side of it holding various items and knickknacks. In front of the fireplace, there was a small wooden table with one chair and a window concealed behind a curtain. On top of the table was a pot with a bowl in front of it.

Other than the bed, it's your average hunting cabin as far as I am concerned.

Nearing the wooden table, I began to examine the tableware. the pot has what looked like some soup with meat and potato. The bowl contains the same soup as the pot.

The bowl is half-empty while the soup is still lukewarm.

With the chilly ambient temperature, the soup in the pot will be cold in less than one hour, two at the most. As for the soup in the bowl, with no cover, it is much less than that, half an hour at most. Halfway through eating dinner, The person staying here went out through the only door in the room leaving a half finished bowl, and that is more or less thirty minutes ago.

I let out a cold breath. Why? what made them leave? or is my paranoia out of hand?

When you start believing in ghosts you will start seeing them everywhere. That is what is happening to me right now, everything seems suspicious and disturbing. I've been on edge since I woke up in the middle of nowhere with no knowledge of how I got here. I should probably take some take time to calm down a bit, but not now, my safety isn't granted yet. I need first to meet the owner of this cabin and hopefully get his help. And he shouldn't be away for long.

Await or seek them.

Waiting for them in a warm shelter is most likely the most satisfactory option. Yet with all the agitation and tension going through me, I don't see myself waiting relentlessly and calmly in one place, I need to move.

I looked around the room and then moved to the shelves trying to find anything that could be of any help, going out with no preparation irks me. I decided to look after the hunter but not without something sharp in my hand. They are unlikely to appreciate someone disturbing their belongings. But it's better to ask forgiveness than dying to a wolf or something like that.

I pushed aside the pot and bowl then laid my findings on the table. An odd compass, twelve cartridges stored within a newspaper sheet, and arguably the most helpful finding, an axe.

The axe is a Felling Axe, commonly used for chopping logs, with a long strong handle supporting a head weighing less than two kilograms. The blade has a flared shape. Unfortunately, it is clear that it was used a lot, and hadn't gone through a sharpening process in a while leaving the edges somewhat blunt. But it's better than nothing.

The cartridges, ten 8mm ammo for big games, one shot one deer. I should be careful when dealing with the hunter. 8mm is no joke.

I put the axe and the cartridges on the side then focused on the compass and newspaper sheet which both use the same unfamiliar symbols as the pocket watch that strangely I can read. After confirming that the compass is functional, I placed it in my pocket, it can be useful when I found a map. Then proceeded to my first source of information since waking up, the newspaper sheet. Just finding out my current location or date will be a good start. The sheet has been used as storage paper and is in poor condition; it is worn and torn in places, and the words are fading and almost unreadable with the current room lights.

I need more light.

I leaned over the table and reached for the curtain, pulling it aside to add more light and allow me to see better. As soon as the window curtain was drawn back, my breath caught in my throat, my heart stopped beating entirely for a moment, and all my thoughts were completely lost, my eyes wide at the reflection on the window glass, at what I saw there.

The room's inside reflected on the window glass and in it...

An unknown man stood there.