Chapter 2 -
Enidd had never been very outdoorsy. Her idea of roughing it involved enduring a Wi-Fi signal that dared to dip below five bars. Now, as she trudged through the dense forest that seemed intent on introducing her to every possible variant of foliage, she couldn’t help but feel the universe had gone a little overboard.
The trees seemed to lean in curiously as she passed, their branches whispering amongst themselves that could have been the wind - or a judgmental chuckle. Enidd clutched the base of the origami crane tightly to her chest, half expecting it to guide her or at least offer some protection. Instead, it merely fluttered its wings in what she interpreted as silent judgement - that same judgement you get from the old ladies on the bus when you don’t immediately offer up your seat.
Suddenly, a low growl echoed through the trees, stopping Enidd in her tracks. Her heart pounded as she scanned the underbrush, and her grip on the crane tightened. Out of the thicket stepped a creature that looked like a wolf-sized chihuahua, but with eyes that glowed an eerie blue, its short fur shimmered with a ghostly light. Enidd backed away slowly, wishing her origami skills included creating something more intimidating than a paper bird.
The dog-creature-monster advanced, its eyes locked on Enidd. Instinctively, she raised the crane, as if the thin paper could somehow protect her. Realising the absurdity of her defence, she quickly pocketed it and looked around frantically for any sort of weapon. Her eyes caught on a fallen branch nearby, with no other options she quickly grabbed it, holding it out shakily in front of her.
The creature paused, its head tilting as if to say “Really? Is that how it’s going to be?” Emboldened by what could only be called misplaced confidence, Enidd swung the branch in a wide, unpracticed arc. The creature dodged easily, stepping back with a growl that sounded suspiciously like a snicker. Enidd’s heart pounded in her chest, like an angry neighbour banging on a wall annoyed at the loud music from next door. She swung again more out of panic than any real strategy. This time, the branch connected with a soft thud against the creature's side. It yelped, more in surprise than pain, the creature bared its teeth, the amusement gone from its eyes, replaced with a dangerous glint.
The creature lunged forward. Snapping at her with its sharp teeth, Enidd barely managed to leap back in time, the creature tasting the air instead of the leg that had just been in its place. Desperation surged through her, and she swung the branch wildly in response, missing the wolf entirely as it circled her, its movements more cautious now but no less predatory.
Another lunge. This time, the creature’s teeth clamped down on the branch, yanking it from her grasp with a force that sent her sprawling to the ground, her injured side scraping against the rough earth. After a few shakes, it threw the branch lightly to the side and lowered its front legs ready to pounce again.
With no weapon left, Enidd did the only thing she could think of-she screamed, a loud, piercing cry that echoed through the trees. Startled by the sudden noise, the creature flattened its ears against its head. For a brief moment, it hesitated, its predatory confidence shaken.
Seizing the opportunity,she reached down, grabbed a handful of dirt and leaves from the forest floor, and flung it at the creature's face. It recoiled, blinking furiously trying to clear its eyes. Without missing a beat, Enidd lunged forward, grabbing her branch and thrusting it toward the wolf with all her might. The branch struck the creature's muzzle with a sharp crack, this time with enough force to cause real pain. The creature yelped a high-pitched sound of surprise and discomfort, and staggered back, shaking its head. The glow in its eyes dimmed, replaced by a look of wariness.
Panting heavily, Enidd didn’t wait for the wolf to recover. She brandished the branch like a spear, her hands trembling but determined. “Go on! Get out of here!” she shouted, her voice wavering but absolute. The wolf snarled one last time, but the fight had gone out of it. With a final reluctant growl, it backed into the shadows of the trees, its glowing eyes fixed on her until it disappeared entirely.
Enidd stood frozen for a moment, her breath coming in ragged gasps, the branch still clutched tightly in her hands. She listened intently, half-expecting the wolf to return, but the forest remained still, save for the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears. Finally, when she was certain the danger had passed, she let out a long, shaky breath and collapsed to her knees, the adrenaline draining from her body all at once.
As Enidd sat on the forest floor, trembling like a leaf in a particularly indecisive breeze, she noticed a soft fluttering sound beside her. The origami crane, which had been quietly observing her near-death experience with the same enthusiasm as a houseplant, now hovered gently in front of her, its paper wings flapping in what she could only describe as a rather smug manner.
Stolen novel; please report.
“Well, I hope you enjoyed the show,” Enidd muttered, still trying to convince her heart to slow down from its recent attempt to set a world record. The crane, showing no inclination to answer in any language, human or otherwise, instead began to glow softly. A warm, golden light seeped from its creases as if it had just remembered it was supposed to be doing something important.
Enidd squinted, thoroughly confused. “And what, exactly, are you up to now…?”
The crane didn’t bother with explanations. It simply unfolded itself with a series of crisp, practised motions, each fold seeming to pop open with a sense of purpose that was downright irritating. As the last crease smoothed out, the paper transformed into a flat, glowing panel that hung in the air before her, like a to-do list for someone who had grossly underestimated the length of their day.
Enidd stared at the glowing panel, wondering if she was supposed to take notes. The panel, however, was already hard at work, rearranging its symbols and numbers into something she could read:
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Name: Enidd Morigwen
Level: 1 (Exp: 20/50)
Health: 75/100
Stamina: 60/100
Mana: 50/50
Skills:
* Origami Folding - Basic (Can create small, non-combatant creatures)
* Paper Mastery - Novice (Unlocks at Level 5)
* Environmental Awareness - Novice (Increases perception in natural surroundings)
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Enidd’s eyes widened as she read the information. “What… is this?”
The crane, now fully transformed into a glowing panel of dubious practicality, hovered patiently as if waiting for her to come to terms with its latest trick. Enidd’s mind, meanwhile, was doing its best to file this under “things that require immediate explanation,” but the rest of her brain wasn’t quite ready to cooperate. "Level? Health? Stamina? Mana?" The words felt like something out of a video game, or perhaps the fever dream of someone who had been watching too much late-night television.
Her eyes landed on the "Health" bar, which was not as full as it should be. She instinctively touched her side where the wolf—no, the weird glowing dog thing—had knocked the branch from her hands. It still ached, which seemed to suggest that this whole bizarre scenario wasn’t just some elaborate practical joke.
“Is this… me?” she whispered, half-expecting the crane to give her a sarcastic nod in response.
The numbers next to "Level" caught her eye. 20 out of 50 experience points. Her near-dissembowelment had earned her something called "experience," though why anyone thought that was a fair trade was beyond her. Still, the concept wasn’t entirely foreign. It was starting to make an alarming amount of sense as if this world had decided to run on the same twisted logic as a particularly convoluted RPG.
She glanced down at the list of skills at the bottom of the panel. "Origami Folding - Basic." So the crane wasn’t just for show—it was part of her abilities in this place. "Paper Mastery - Novice" and "Environmental Awareness - Novice" were also there, though their exact functions were still about as clear as mud.
The panel, apparently satisfied that she had absorbed enough for now, began to fold itself back into the shape of the crane, which then perched back on her shoulder with the air of someone who had just aced an important job interview. The glowing light dimmed, leaving Enidd with the unsettling feeling that she was now a very small cog in a very large, very confusing machine.
Enidd exhaled deeply, trying to wrap her head around the fact that she was now, apparently, a walking stat sheet. Whatever this place was, it had rules, and those rules were starting to reveal themselves in ways that made her long for the days when her biggest problem was a looming maths test. She still had no idea how she had gotten here or how she was supposed to get back home, but one thing was becoming increasingly clear: if she was going to survive, she needed to start playing by these rules.
The crane nudged her cheek gently with its papery beak, a small gesture that might have been comforting if she wasn’t still wondering how this whole mess had started. Enidd nodded, finally pulling herself to her feet. "Alright," she murmured, more to herself than to the crane. "If this is how it’s going to be, then I guess I’d better get moving."
With one last glance at the now eerily quiet forest around her, Enidd began to walk again, the path ahead looking just as ominous as before. But now, at least, she had a slightly better idea of what she was up against. The crane fluttered its wings as if to say, “Finally, some progress,” and together, they continued deeper into the unknown.