She had always considered herself resilient, but these days that was being tested more and more. The heat of the battle still burned in her veins, the adrenaline making her senses feel alive and sharp—yet, she knew deep down that her strength was beginning to falter. The weight of this strange world she found herself in—it was wearing her down, piece by piece.

The creature's body lay at her feet—a twisted heap of shredded meat. It resembled no animal she had ever seen. Its form reminded her of the monsters in the stories she was told before bed. Her makeshift weapon—a simple stick, now cracked from the battle, was still gripped tightly in her hand. It wasn’t much. She longed for the comfortable weight of her sword, but this had served its purpose well enough.

She dropped the stick, its dull thud echoing in the stillness, the aftershocks of battle still ringing in her ears. The creature had fought fiercely, but it made a fatal mistake in showing its face. It should have continued to stalk her from the treeline.

Well, anyhow—with it dead, she could cross one more problem off her ever-growing list. She felt the gnawing hunger in her gut and glanced down at the creature’s lifeless body. Could she eat it? The thought turned her stomach. She remembered the last meal she’d shared with her family—the warm bread, the fresh fruit. It felt like a distant, almost impossible memory. But then again, she’d lived this long by making hard choices. She could do this. She had to. Nothing would stop her now. Not hunger, not shame. Nothing would break her.

She grabbed hold of the creature and began dragging it to somewhere safer. Its torn flesh left a dark smear across the ground, the scent of blood thick in the air. She wrinkled her nose but kept moving—survival came first.

Coming upon the other side of a massive tree—easily thirty feet in diameter—she paused to catch her breath. This would do. Leaning against its towering trunk, here—she could decide what to do with the creature, without the malevolent sky pressing down on her.

She set off to gather fire-making materials—sticks, loose branches, what appeared like moss. Her hands worked quickly, driven by the hunger eating at her gut. Dry wood was scarce, but she picked through the underbrush, searching for anything that could catch light easily.

After collecting an impressive heap of twigs, moss, plants, and the like, she carried them back to the tree. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. Kneeling beside the pile, she set her hand inches away from the base, and willed.

Feeling the familiar essence surge through her arm, she focused her mind on fire itself, visualizing the chemical reaction that would unfold. She thought about the oxygen in the air reacting with the carbon in the wood, the heat breaking down the cellulose fibers to release volatile gases. As she willed the spark into existence, she could almost see the molecules of oxygen and carbon combining, forming carbon dioxide and water vapor as the fire began to burn. The Essentia responded, accelerating the process, the flames crackling as the energy released from the combustion spread outward, warming the air around her.

Pulling her hand back, feeling the slight mental fatigue that came with manipulating fundamental forces. A moment of dizziness made her sway slightly, but she quickly steadied herself. She turned her attention to the creature. With the fire done, now she actually had to cook the thing. She scanned the area, eyes searching for a stone, something malleable.

Her eyes landed on a good candidate, an ordinary rock, solid and heavy. Placing a stick that she had picked up next to it, she positioned both hands on the items. She focused, willing the Essentia to flow through her and into the stick and rock. Energy swirled around the rock and stick, the raw force of her will shaping them. Slowly, the stick began to soften and curve, the rock sharpening into an edge. Within moments, the two were fused together—a crude, but effective stone knife.

Searching through her sea of memories, she recalled fleeting moments of watching cooks cut open creatures, their steady hands slicing with precision as they prepared them for cooking, the ease with which they turned raw flesh into something edible. It was a simple act, or so she thought. She had never thought about actually doing it herself.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

But now, standing over this creature, it felt different. She felt disconnected from that past self, the one who had never known hunger like this, never been faced with the need to survive at any cost. She thought she had struggled before, but this was different.

The hunger twisted inside her, a deep, aching emptiness that pressed against her chest. She reached down, fingers steadied. The tightness in her chest, the tension in her limbs, they all faded as she centered herself. There was no room for hesitation.

With slow, deliberate movements, she pressed the stone knife to the creature’s flesh. The blade bit into the tough hide with a sickening scrape, like grinding stone against bone. She twisted the knife, the fibers of skin parting reluctantly, splitting open with a wet, fleshy tear. A stench of raw meat filled the air, sharp and pungent.

As she dug deeper, the knife slid into the soft, gelatinous mass of the creature’s insides. The flesh gave away with a sickening squelch. Warm blood gushed from the wound, slick and slippery, coating her hands in sticky crimson. The entrails inside were a dark mess—stringy and slimy—unfurling in a grotesque tangle. She could feel the soft give of organs beneath the blade, the soft, squishy texture of them that made her stomach lurch in disgust.

Every cut felt like it was against her very nature, but she didn’t hesitate. The knife cut through veins and tissue with a sickening squelch, the air thick with the sharp, metallic scent of blood. The warm, viscous liquid splashed onto her hands and forearms, its texture thick and unrelenting.

The minutes blurred by as she worked, cutting through sinew and muscle with impossible precision. Her hands were covered in blood, slick and steady as she carved out a sizable piece of meat.

With a final pull, she tore the last strip of meat free and dragged it over the fire, the scent of burning wood and charred flesh thick in the air. The fire eagerly accepted the offering, licking at the piece of raw meat with hunger tongues of heat. The sizzling sound filled the quiet space, mingling with the cracking of the fire.

She watched it for a moment, entranced by the slow transformation, the way the blood turned black and the flesh began to firm, a skin of burnt crust forming over the raw center. The fire was small but efficient, crackling with an almost predatory rhythm as the meat began to cook.

Her fingers flexed in anticipation, and despite the nature of her meal, a small part of her felt relief. She was surviving. She would live.

The meat sizzled, the fat rendering and dripping into the flames. It wasn’t what she’d imagined for her first meal in this strange place, but it would have to do.

After a while, the sizzling of the meat softened, and the smell of cooked flesh began to mingle with the smoky air. The fire had burned down to a steady glow, and the piece of meat had become even darker and crisp on the outside.

With a swift movement, she grabbed the meat from the fire, careful not to burn herself. She bit into it, the rough texture and the taste of charred flesh filling her mouth. It wasn’t the best—she’d blame the meat itself, not her cooking, just to keep her pride somewhat intact. The tough fibers of the creature’s flesh were hard to chew, and the burnt parts had a bitter aftertaste, but hunger drove her onward.

She forced herself to swallow, the texture of the meat sticking to the roof of her mouth. Each bite felt like a struggle, but it was fuel—necessary fuel. She tore off another piece, grimacing as she chewed. The bitterness still lingered, but it was drowned by the growing satisfaction of filling the emptiness in her stomach.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, staring at the half-eaten meat in front of her. The fire crackled softly, the only sound in the stillness of the forest. She took a slow breath, letting the silence settle around her as she gathered her thoughts. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

Her mind briefly wandered to her next steps. The creature’s remains would provide her sustenance for some time, but there were other things to consider—where should she go? The forest was both a sanctuary and a prison. Are there others? Where exactly is she? The questions hung in the air, unanswered and heavy.

She glanced around, her gaze flicking through the dense trees, searching for any signs of movement—wait, there. A shadow shifted in the corner of her vision, just beyond the reach of the firelight. Her breath caught, she gripped the crude knife she had willed together, knuckles turning white.

The shadow moved again, closer this time. A figure. She froze, heart racing, and her breath held deep within her chest. Friend or Foe?

And then she saw it.