The forest was further away than he thought. And with every step its mesmerizing allure pushed his mind closer to a gaping void. It was unnerving, yet so natural. However, Atef couldn’t grasp the cleansing potential of numbness. It was mind’s way of tricking itself, with emptiness. It was a healing property that reins in all shock proclaiming it blasphemous and banishing it into the depths, locking it away. Besides, the growing distance from the enormous, bulbous flame turned most of his surroundings into darkness. Therefore, there wasn’t much to see anyways, but to hear and smell, aplenty.

It was forbidden though, the mind needed its waking rest. Atef, akin to an automaton, just paced. One foot in front of the other, on and on, without an end. Unbelievable, isn’t it? After all that he’s been through in a matter of few, short days, his reward, freedom, presence in a living forest that he craved since his childhood spent in the pit was there in front of him and he couldn’t enjoy it. Not yet at least. The mind knew best. Shut it all off, cleanse, repair the damage and stay blind, mute, deaf and unable to feel or smell. Keep on walking though. The alarm by now is raised. The survivors are taking stock of what is happening; that is, those who are not running around in panic trying to kill a monster with a toothpick. More precisely in their case, a giant blaze with puny buckets of water.

The mind knows. Now it only matters to walk! “The forest will be prettier deep inside”; an unspoken promise somehow zapped through his mind. Where man almost never treads, where its true beauty is reserved just for Atef. Let that come later though, first the rules needed to be set.

He didn’t know it yet, but the force of his gift has once again willingly shackled itself deep beneath the layers that made the being called Atef whole. Like a layered cake the gift was encrusted with a number of aspirations that make life worth living: yearning for experiencing the world, love, hope, meaning, knowledge, wisdom and ultimately, happiness. The gift’s last whispers and assurances gave Atef the initial impetus to make the first step away from the conflagration instead of dropping to the ground in schizophrenic pain, sniveling like a distraught ruin. And now it made its task to bore deeper, hide itself away while Atef’s mind recovers. Breaking it free from all those Atef’s aspirational layers would bring immeasurable benefits… and untold woe. You may receive, but you must give the old proverb goes! It has been like that since the dawn of time. Madness was the cost, the give! Going cuckoo, mental, looney, haywire or simply kissing the lips of Ygramil as the folk in the pit used to say. Magic was the reward. The potency of a whole world could be tapped into and funneled by embracing the gift.

Therefore:

Atef:

Initial Madness – set at 0 [max 100]

Spells and magic traits – none

Language skill – subpar – 10 [max 50]

Atef’s lanky figure continued trudging through the thicket like a predator fearing nothing. His blue eyes shimmered in Lita’s moonlight like burning ice, a death’s grip sowing terror among game both large and small. And his mind was still empty, devoid of all reason. Just a little longer, just until that last minute seam is stitched up so that no cracks can let loose the monster inside.

Hunger kicked in. Such a simple trigger, one could argue reasonable and the least obvious or painful to end a process like this. It announced itself as a gut tickle that awoke the eyes. First, Atef could see a distant star that hid itself among the trees, bright and unrelenting. Then the tickle grew into a growl and his field of vision slowly expanded, his nose opened up, his hearing acknowledged the fear he was creating among the forest’s population with his appearance and, lastly, his feet felt nature’s moisty embrace. The trick of the light among the trees burned like Sur, the elder, static sun, blinding him, demanding that he pauses. Seared into his pupils was the final command to awaken. And just like that, the first thought Atef had was to sit down and rummage through the cloth he bounded around his chest in search of food.

- I shouldda get some grub and then snooze a bit. Lita will skedaddle from Sur, Baor will come and I will enjoy the forest! Wow, jerky, sausage! Cheese! And to munch it all with this crispy bread! Master Togrin was so nice to send me off with all this grub!

His choice of camp was a small clearing, just several steps across surrounded by shrubs which provided good protection from the night’s breeze. Atef could feel new scents here in the forest, strong and opulent in the summer night, and the whistle of wind carried a song of the owl, a new and unknown sound which made him wary. In silence he opened the cloth on the ground and broke bread and cheese into mouthfuls. He subconsciously felt like he had to organize his food in mouthfuls and was mad he is not able to cut pieces of jerky or sausage, instead having to bite them off. But his stomach impelled him not to bother with this triviality, at least tonight. The food tasted like a blessing from the gods, a panacea that the doctor ordered for the incredible, maddening ordeal his mind and body endured just within the last day. He smiled contently, his thoughts were elated, everything was perfect like a rush of happy juices through the body during a moment of glee.

And then the leaves rustled. Atef thought it was the wind, he didn’t pay any attention. In his mind, the forest was a place of happiness, not a source of danger. And this time round, he was right. A hedgehog appeared from the brush, sniffing with his little nose, trying to identify how dangerous is the being next to the succulent morsels he could sense.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

- Hey there lil’ one, what you’re? Come closer, I wanna spot you better!

The hedgehog reluctantly stepped forth than back, constantly wiggling his little nose as if the scent alone will undoubtably prove Atef’s intentions.

- Don’t be scaredy! Come, I’ve some munchy for ya!

The animal made a few steps forward and sideways estimating that in this way it would be easier to escape if Atef was to lunge forward. Several reluctancies later they were finally close enough for Atef to inspect this wonderous being. He kept a piece of jerky in his left hand and tried to pet the hedgehog with his right. The animal bundled up and hissed threateningly. The hand touched it and sprung back in pain.

- Ouch, you sting! You be a little kill ball, that’s what ya’re! Lookey at them spikes, I wouldda scare to think what wouldda be like to squash ya. I’d need to cut off me prancy foot then! Here, ‘ave a piece of jerky! And stay ‘way!

It took a while for the hedgehog to gather courage to peek outward from its tucked in, spiked-ball position. Its nose was again sniffing, glistening in the night as a drop of dew. And then slowly, ready at a moments notice to coil up in protective stance, the hedgehog unbundled itself and reached for the meat. It chewed audibly, cutely, for a long time trying to overcome meat’s tough, cured texture. Atef was looking at it in wonder, giggling at the sounds it was making. Suddenly, the hedgehog stopped, lifted its little head and sniffed the air with the speed of its nose Atef didn’t know was possible to achieve. And then hastily it scurried away yielding to the eyes and fangs of the real predator!

Growling and snarling before Atef was a dire wolf, its body slowly appearing from a bush heavy with red, spindly fruit. The wolf was assessing him, noticing that Atef was exposed, sitting and with his neck at the level of its jaws. The animal was sizable, weighing at least as Atef did and with red fur around the eyes, against the backdrop of grey, it gave off a strange, masked appearance. Scars ran across the snout and the left hind leg were some grey fur was missing and the tail seemed almost chewed off. Fear rushed through Atef, this newest encounter awakening the most primordial existential dread.

Magic roll: 62 out of 100 [5d20s] ; +2 to speaking with animals ; current level 2/50

Madness roll: 60 out of 100 [5d20s] ; +1 to madness ; current level 1/100

Secret roll: 40 out of 100 [5d20s] ; +0 to a mystery 0/100 points

Suddenly, fragments of growls starting making sense, pushing through a muffled undertone of meaning.

- Grrrrr, owwooo, grrrr, fo…. grrrrr….auwaua…. gi…rrr….

Frozen, scared out of his wits, Atef just sat there looking into the beast’s green eyes, trying to grasp and process these subtle fragments of understanding. His gift seeped out an aura that the animal could pick up. Therefore, it waited wanting to be amused, wanting its curiosity to be sated, not just its gut. It repeated the growls several times conveying meaning best it could, inflection and tempo being the focus point. And the jolt of Atef’s gift, spewed from the depths of its prison, finally enabled him to pick up on it. The wolf was still tense, its sinews ready to crack forward at a moment’s notice securing the kill.

- It wanna munch. And it didn’t got meself yet. And I have food.

Slowly, Atef offered remaining jerky and sausage to the animal, tossing it in front of its feet as softly as a rock would sink in honey. The wolf’s gaze was still fixed on his eyes as it slowly lowered its head to sniff the offering. Never too cautious, it grabbed the sausage and took two steps back creating distance between itself and the still stunned and seated Atef. Soon enough, the food was exhausted and the game reset. This time round Atef couldn’t understand a single sound that the wolf was growling out. But he showed himself to be a good host, and the animal hasn’t struck yet so there was more to this whole ordeal. The wolf made a step forward. Then another. With the third one, Atef could sense its rancid breath made bearable only by the subtle aroma of meat mixed somewhere in there. Another step, and another, the snout was now almost touching his nose. The wolf sniffed his face, his breath, his soul. Atef closed his eyes for a second and withdrew praying that the forsaken animal is finally satisfied and it sees little reward in killing a hapless, pitiful prey. He prayed to the heavenly smiths, to his mother, to the Warden of the Night. The breath suddenly disappeared and he heard a few silent taps on the ground. Breathing heavily he opened his eyes which were flaring with absolute fear. The wolf wasn’t there. And then he felt the bite on his shoulder. He screamed to high heavens reaching for the injured spot, mind convulsing in terror of the next few moments which will be his last.

There was no wound, there was little pain. It was a nibble, a playful scratch of the teeth which hardly left any mark. He jumped to his feet and turned around. The wolf was sitting a few steps away brooming the ground with its tail. Its tongue was out and it panted as if it was a puppy again. Atef was in shock, not understanding how to react, whether to run or to pick up a rock or a branch from the ground and fight. They looked at each other for a little while, neither releasing the slightest of sounds. The wolf still gave away the same clear signs of friendliness. Their standoff hung flaccidly in the world that demands action.

Atef finally gathered courage to make the first step. It was a short, jittery one coupled with a hand movement which was supposed to signal friendship. The wolf’s jaws disfigured into a hideous snarl in response making Atef lose his nerve. The growling was back on, its aggression visceral and destructive. Atef froze and slowly stepped back from the wolf. It followed. It wasn’t interested in letting him go. What little food Atef had was slowly disappearing in distance, the fading white cloth, on which it was laid, being the only symbol to remember it by. The wolf patiently followed, fixated on Atef’s eyes which spoke to it in a language that went beyond sounds. A slip up, a piece of deadwood in the way, and with a thud he was on his back. Quickly, he clenched his stomach and pushed his upper body upright. The wolf was there, in the same spot from a moment ago, waiting.

Atef was afraid, he was tired, he had enough of it. He puffed and dropped back to the ground. One more breath was all he asked before the wolf pounces. And his wish was granted, though second and third came, fourth even and he was still breathing, still feeling pain in his back and on his shoulder. Nothing happened. The wolf was a watcher in the night, a sentinel towering over him.

- Fine! ‘Ave it your way! Mutt!

He got himself upright and found a comfortable place against heavy, soft bark. It was finally time to sleep.