It was not until the sun had completely set and the sky had grown dark, that Wil once again stopped and sat down against another tree. He hadn't come across any water. At most, he would probably only last three more days before he succumbed to thirst. The sweet grass was mysteriously filling. He had picked up more of it along the way and taken a closer look at it. Up close, it seemed to be slightly different than the grass he had initially believed it to be. The patterns on the blades were different, and the roots were translucent-looking. As he had ingested a larger amount, his stomach had not made any further complaints, although his throat was indeed dry. The minuscule amounts of water from the grasses and their roots would barely prolong his life.
It was a shame to get his clothes dirty, but dirt was currently the least of his problems. He lied down underneath the tree, looking up into the night sky as stars slowly twinkled into existence. Strangely enough, he couldn't seem to find the moon among them, even with the clouds so few in number. He tried to pick out a few constellations, but those seemed to elude him as well. Perhaps it just was not dark enough yet?
And yet, as he lay there, the sky did not darken further. Instead, the night sky was painted with colors in a way he had never seen in his life. Greens, blues, reds, and an array of colors in between streaked through the stars as if someone had spilled numerous paints together, or even that colorful gleam of murky engine oil. He had thought a sight like this was purely fictitious, something seen only in sci-fi movies or television. Perhaps he had never seen a sky like this because he had rarely traveled far outside of developed civilizations. He understood that the effects of industry polluted the sky with a type of smog. In that case, where in the world could he be? There weren't many places on the earth untouched by modern industrialization, and most that were, remained so because they were largely uninhabitable and unfit to support modern human life.
Wil realized that if he was in such a place, no amount of walking would lead him to civilization. Perhaps the organization had abandoned him to die here without putting his blood on their hands, to make him dissapear. It would have been an erratic decision for them though. The organization he was familiar with was more the type to do this sort of thing openly, to make an example and send a message.
He eventually gave up looking for constellations and closed his eyes, keeping his ears focused on the surrounding sounds. It was so quiet. The wind continued to blow gently, blowing on the grass and through the tree's leaves and branches. Aside from that, there was nothing at all. No crickets chirping through the night, no howls from wolves or dogs, devoid of the sounds of passing vehicles or the cacophony of city night life.
Wil yawned as he drifted off to sleep. What a strange and empty place. If it wasn't for the lack of food variety and drinkable water, he wouldn't have minded staying here.
Wil was jolted awake, covered in a cold sweat. Struggling to his knees as his vision was flooded with the images that haunted his dreams, he grasped blindly around himself. He couldn't find his pills. He scrambled to his knees in an effort to crawl out of bed as his stomach turned. He kept feeling for the ends of his bedding but couldn't find it. Numerous lights and colors swam before his eyes, blinding him. His fingers kept brushing against something rough, grating uncomfortably under his nails. He couldn't see. Thirst clawed at his throat.
A gust of wind swam across his skin, though his mind barely registered it, focused on the assault to his senses.
Pain pounded through his skull as cold sweat licked his back, his clothing sticking to his skin tightly. He curled into a ball, his arms shielding the top of his head from an invisible foe.
High in the sky, two moons shone brightly in otherworldly hues. One, a desert-sand orange, and the other, a milky green. They stared down silently at the lone wanderer.
Something was tickling his face.
He buried his face deeper in his bedding. Probably just one of his cats trying to snuggle. They had a habit of waking him up in the morning. He had been trying to stick to a routine, more for his mental health than because he was busy, but often found himself sleeping in or procrastinating. Deep down, he understood he had a bit of a lazy side, although he also considered himself a dedicated worker. This unfortunate nuance of his had certainly brought its fair share of troubles to him during his school and college days. Waiting till the last day to complete an assignment, not going to bed on time, the significance these actions had on his life had certainly been reduced but the sleeping in part definitely caused a lot of problems during the years he had worked ordinary jobs.
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Nevertheless, ever since he had been recruited by the organization, he had continued to fall deeper into his habits since he wasn't required to "clock in" for work everyday like a typical wage-slave.
His face was tickled again. Oh well, he might as well get up since his babies seemed to be needing attention. He felt that he had been having a strange dream, and already he was having difficulty recalling it. He opened his eyes.
Large, round, red eyes stared at him from an unfamiliar furry face. Panicking, he pushed himself away on his hands and knees as he scurried to his feet. Stepping back quickly, making sure not to trip over himself, he attempted to appraise whatever had woken him.
It was still standing there, staring at him. It appeared to be a rabbit; a very large rabbit at that, and while he thought it was large, that was only relative to the size of rabbits. This one came up to about his knees, and stood as wide as himself, and as he stood just under six feet tall, it was indeed quite large. It was covered in thick, speckled black fur, and seemed to be standing up straighter than the types of rabbits he was familiar with. However, what stood out most about the rabbit was the horn-like antlers that protruded out from the sides of its forehead that stood out with at least half its own length. They were similar to that of a male deer, in which they curled out into several points.
He could not recall ever seeing a rabbit like this. Not on TV, or in a zoo. The only likeness to the creature he could make was from a book. From fiction. He was looking at something from a myth, old folklore. He was looking at what he assumed was a jackalope. Except, jackalopes weren't real. Perhaps he was dreaming after all. If that was the case, it was one of the stranger dreams he'd had. In fact, it was rare for him to dream at all.
The jackalope continued to stare at him. In his scrambled, waking state he hadn't noticed it, but the animal was making a soft chirping sound, something akin to a dog's chew toy. Its nostrils flared as it sniffed in his direction, keeping still.
As far as he knew, rabbits were either docile creatures when domesticated, or flighty, easily frightened animals in the wild. Yet, here he was standing only several steps from one, or at least, he assumed its behavior was similar to a rabbit. Although, if this was a dream, then common sense and anything he knew was technically thrown out the window. He took a small step forward, checking if the animal would flee.
Contrary to his expectations, the jackalope perked up, standing up on its hind legs and its long ears standing up. It began to squeak fervently. Wil noticed that it wasn't shaking. It wasn't afraid. Its eyes remained locked onto his own, and it was then that he realized he was unarmed.
As he tried to glance at the base of the tree where he had been lying, the jackalope sprung forward, launching itself at him with its powerful legs. The antlers rapidly approached him as the beast made its cannonball-like charge.
Briefly taken by suprise, Wil took a stance, planting one foot in front of the other and bracing himself. Now was not the time to forget his training. How pathetic would it be to be killed by a rabbit? He dealt with the charging enemy as he would an attacker with a knife, in which the first thing to do was to stop and disarm the opponent. Just as the rabbit neared him, he slid to the side and reached out to his enemy, grasping an antler that had been directed at him. The bony extensions burned against his skin as he tightened his hold, then using the momentum of the airborne animal, swiveled on his foot and released it up into the air. His arm groaned and burned with the weight of the creature, which was deceptively heavy. He straightened his stance, then twisted his torso as he sprung up off of the ground, his legs following his twisting motion as the jackalope descended. The jackalope fell. He ascended. The two crossed.