Without uttering a sound, Owen wrapped the mirage blanket around his torso and exited through the front door. Next door, a middle-aged woman who was pulling weeds from her garden gawked at his unruly appearance. Unperturbed, he simply wandered around the fence, following the dirt road toward the forest.
Seconds blurred into minutes as he wandered among the trees near the edge of the forest. He subconsciously expected wildlife to be there. Nonetheless, no creature approached him. Instead of waiting for something to appear, he faced the nearest oak-like tree and pressed both fists against the rough bark. A second later, he pulled his hands away and looked at his knuckles. Jagged lines had been imprinted into his skin.
From there, he grasped the trunk with open palms, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply through his nose. This lasted only a second until he pulled his right hand a few inches away, clenched it into a tight fist, and lightly jabbed the trunk. Dull pain caused by the unyielding and rugged bark coursed through his knuckle. Then he mirrored the action with his left hand.
As images from his dream replayed in his mind, he repeatedly punched the bark, gradually increasing the weight behind each thrust. He continued to punch the trunk until the bark chipped away and his knuckles turned raw. Before long, the bark fell away to reveal dark brown wood. Emotional baggage weighed down his heart, causing his eyes to redden from both emotional and physical strain. Eventually, he stopped with both fists pressed against the bare wood which somehow didn't sustain any damage. In contrast, his knuckles were raw and aching. Droplets of bright red blood oozed from multiple small cuts.
This isn’t enough. Further in.
Fists itching to pummel something with give, he ambled deeper into the forest. Beating something to a pulp would clear his mind. It would make the painful memories go away, even if only temporarily.
Suddenly, he noticed movement behind a bush. He beelined for the creature and rounded the bush. The creature had dark brown fur and stood on its hind legs. That was all he needed to know. It was a kanga digging in the dirt, likely for grubs.
Not giving the creature a spare moment to notice him, he lunged toward it and kicked its ribs. It screeched as it tumbled over the grass a good meter or so, but quickly righted itself. Angry snarls reverberated from its throat. Although it seemed like some sort of intimidation attempt, Owen wasn’t in a state of mind to pay it any heed. Instead, he lunged forward again. Like the beast it was, it tried to pull away, but Owen subconsciously predicted its movement and dropped an elbow right onto its skull, slamming it flat into the dirt face first.
Perhaps a human would have passed out from that hit, but the kanga’s leg muscles rippled and it lurched forward in an attempt to bite Owen’s ankle. Unfortunately for the kanga, Owen never dropped his guard. With movements akin to a dance, he sidestepped the lunge and countered with a low kick to the kanga’s gut. The animal, which could barely reach his hips if it stood straight, hurdled through the air a couple meters before smacking a tree trunk. With a final anguished squeak, it plopped on the ground unmoving.
Not fooled at the kangas attempt at playing dead since he had seen it in the game, Owen dashed toward it and grabbed it by the neck. It squealed angrily and tried to kick him without success. Helpless in Owen’s vice grip, it could only squeak weakly as he slammed it against the tree again. A sickening crack echoed in throughout the vicinity. The impact shattered its spine. Unfortunately, it was still kicking, so he slammed its head against the tough bark multiple times until its brain matter splattered against the trunk and it fell limp in his grasp. Shocked by the kanga’s lack of endurance, he dropped the corpse and stared at his hands. They trembled from what he had just done, but the dark red blood staining them wasn’t enough to erase the pain. He trekked deeper into the woods.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Although forest sounds such as birds and rustling leaves echoed all around him, he didn’t notice any of it. Onward he walked until he spotted a small group of black-furred mammals nibbling on the carcass of something similar to a deer. It was a pack of rattilas, albeit a small one. Their capybara-like appearance certainly made them look harmless, but their calves bulged with a disgusting amount of muscle, and they tore through the carcass with their sharp fangs like wet tissue. Taking precautionary measures would have been the correct course of action, but Owen jumped out of the bushes and heel dropped on the neck of the nearest rattila. Similarly to the kanga, it was only stunned briefly, but Owen immediately followed up with a low kick to its abdomen. Through the bare skin of his foot, he felt a few of its ribs shatter. Its flailing body bowled over two of its kin, leaving three to charge toward him.
Welcoming the challenge, Owen stepped up to face them. Skipping back on his toes, he avoided the first lunge and slammed a fist into the rattila’s side near where its heart would be, knocking it onto its side. The second and third rattilas both tried to bite his legs, but he backstepped out of the way just in time and lowered his stance.
Like the unintelligent creatures they were, the ratillas charged forward. Before they could gnaw on his legs, Owen threw out two jabs into their snouts, stopping them in their tracks. Then, he punctured their eyes with his thumbs. Movement in the corner of his vision forced him to leave those two rampaging blindly in order to intercept the two which had been bowled over by the one he had attacked first. That particular one was limping along behind these two. Along with them, the one he had punched in the side recovered itself and charged back into the fray as well.
Since the rattila with broken ribs fell behind, he only had to fight three at once. Due to his current state of mind, he planted his feet in order to intercept with full force. If such an encounter had occurred the previous day, he would have employed more tactics, but he desperately wished to drown himself in combat right now.
Within moments, the nearest rattila entered his striking range. Instinct moved his muscles as he lashed out with a full-power straight which cracked against the animal’s face right between its eyes. At the same time, the second closest rattila lunged toward his left thigh with fangs bared. Intending to knock it away, Owen swiped downward with his defending arm, but the animal somehow proved to be more agile than the others. It twisted mid-lunge just enough to chomp down on his forearm. Serrated teeth tore right through his skin and lodged into the bone. Owen winced since the teeth were comparable to that of a mid-sized dog. However, he ignored it in favor of throwing a knee-kick into the lower jaw of the third rattila, dislocating it with a dull snap. With a pained whimper, it pulled back.
Now that he was free to deal with the one chomping down on his arm, he jabbed its eyes in a similar manner to the previous two he blinded. However, instead of letting go, it chomped down in fierce resistance. Owen grunted, but adrenaline prevented him from feeling the full brunt of the bite. Since blinding it didn’t work, he opted to pry its mouth open, which proved to be quite strenuous. Gripping its snout with his free hand, he wrested its jaws apart after a brief struggle just in time to notice another rattila bounding toward his right knee. On instinct, he lashed out with a low kick to the animal’s underside. It flew back a few meters from the force, but left several scratches from its claws and a shallow bite mark in return.
From there, he continuously fended off intermittent attacks from the unblinded ones while layering several full-force punches into the nearest blinded one. This continued until all the rattillas were writhing on the ground with blood leaking from their orifices due to internal bleeding from crumpled organs.
Although semi-aware of the brutality, Owen focused on the discomfort of his injuries and the warmth of the blood coating his hands. The only words that came to mind were: Not enough.