Blood and viscera floated downstream. Adam sat in the middle of it all, idly poking at the mangled remains of the needle-tooth monster. His arm and his eyes both silently weeping. There was no way this was real. Animals didn’t split in half. If this was a dream, why didn’t he wake up? Was he dead after all? Was this Hell?
“W…w…what…? What the…”
He was cut off by a sudden noise. This was not a safe place… clearly. Adam stood, grabbed his knife and ran. He ran mostly downstream; not caring for the branches that cut or the throb in his arm: he ran.
He continued to run until the stream became a river and the forest thinned to a few sparse trees. Panting, sweating, cold, wet, bleeding, and starting to get dizzy, he sat at the edge of the water.
“What is happening? What was that thing? Where the Hell am I?”
His only response was the burbling water. Slowly, Adam was able to get his breathing under control. Using his knife, he cut a makeshift bandage from his shirt and wrapped his arm as best he could.
He was cold. He needed to keep moving. If he stopped again, he might not continue, so he continued downstream.
Honestly, it was a beautiful day. The air was fresh and tasted clean. The few clouds in the sky didn’t prevent the sun from shining down pleasantly. Birds were singing their love songs to one another. Heck, if it wasn’t for the terrifying forest monsters, almost bleeding to death, and apparently being some kind of fucked up Dorothy, it would be a great day! …Damn it…
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Eventually, Adam spotted a trail of smoke rising in the distance, just around a bend in the river. Excited by the prospect of people, he hastened his approach.
“Hello? Hello!? My name is Adam Bolthaus. I’m cold, hungry, and injured.” He called out. The only response was a faint buzzing.
The closer he got, the more the hairs on the back of his neck stood. Something felt off. Much more quietly, he crept forward.
Adam had seen dead bodies before. At funerals, surrounded by flowers, it wasn’t so bad… even his own mother’s. Yet, this was different. The scene before him was a monster’s masterpiece: blood, ripped bodies, things that should remain inside were out. The buzzing he’d heard was now a chaotic storm of flies fighting over dinner.
Fortunately, it looked like who or whatever did this was long gone: bile and thoughts of the needle-tooth monster rose up. He pushed them both down and continued looking.
There was a campsite set up and the campers had been … larping? Maybe? Metal swords and wooden shields littered the ground. Honestly, Adam didn’t care. He needed food, dry clothes. He needed something to survive.
Before he could convince himself otherwise, he stumbled into the campsite; the muddy, bloody, ground sucking at his bare feet. He spotted a worn leather backpack next to one of the tattered forms.
Breathing through his mouth and pushing the nausea down, Adam quickly picked through the remains. The carpet of flies separated for him as he combed the area. Some landed on his face, inspecting the new scavenger, but most were too busy with their feast. After a few grueling minutes, the bag was packed with everything that wasn’t ruined or too gross to touch. Last, he pulled a sword from the viscous slurry and got the Hell outta there.