Hudson stepped through the portal and instead of appearing in a new place within a fraction of a section, he was stuck in the inky, impossibly cold darkness for long moments. After a few heartbeats, he was starting to panic and wonder if something had gone wrong when the portal finally spat him out into a new world.

He was standing on a raised stone platform, similar to the one he had just come from. The platform was surrounded by a dense fog, but the air was clear and sharp. He cycled his breathing technique and felt the rich, dense qi in the atmosphere. It was almost too much qi, even at a low tempo.

There was a simple stone path of loosely cobbled, undressed stone. Hudson stepped forward on the stones worn uneven by time and all of the trial participants who had come before him. He appeared alone; he couldn’t see Suzume or any of the other participants in the trial.

An enormous gate appeared out of the mist in front of him. The massive wooden doors, towering forty feet in height, were thrust open, and the path continued through them. A plaque hung over the lintel of the gate, written in strange, unknown letters. Despite never having seen the pictograms on the gate before, their meaning wormed its way into his mind.

Staring at them for too long gradually brought on a headache, and when he looked away, for the life of him he couldn’t remember the actual designs – only the meaning.

“Right then – forward we go,” Hudson said to himself and strode through the open gate.

On the other side, the stone path disappeared into a dense forest. The mist hid the tops of the trees, and the floor of the forest ground was covered in thick, intertwining branches. Vines with thorns the size of his thumb snaked everywhere.

The forest was eerily quiet, and the mist dampened sound further. Hudson stopped and closed his eyes. He stretched his senses, but could only hear the occasional drop of water condensing out of the mist and striking a leaf. The dusk smell of loam and decaying leaves mixed with the cool scent of clean water.

He realized with a start that he was wasting his time; time that he had less of than other participants. They were all ahead of him because he had arrived late. He opened his eyes and strode into the forest.

After his eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the canopy far above, he decided to pick up the pace. The forest was dark and silent, but there was enough ambient light to see the path ahead.

The uneven stone cobbles gave way to packed dirt with scuff marks and footprints, and then turned sharply, forcing Hudson to slow to a stop.

The path split into three branches. There were footprints going along each path, but no indication of which he should take. Deciding not to overthink it, he randomly chose the right-most path.

The path continued to split regularly into two, three, or even four branches. Hudson could not tell his direction, and the paths winded in and around fallen trees, over small running creeks, and up and down small hills. If there was an intended path, or directions to follow, Hudson didn’t see them; but rather than agonize over each choice, he simply trusted his gut and picked one quickly.

He eventually left all of the footprints behind, until he was running a path that none of the other participants had. That worried him slightly; what if they had known something he hadn’t? Or figured out a trick to the correct path through the forest?

He ignored his doubts and increased his speed. He was now running along a path that had straightened out and broadened in width. The trunks of the trees on each side were enormous – the size of redwoods back home on earth – and the rhododendron-like undergrowth in between trees was very dense.

He was hurtling along, when out of the corner of his eye, he thought he glimpsed a break in the undergrowth. He slowed to a stop and trotted back to take another look. There was indeed another path, a narrow and mossy track winding back around the trunk of a tree and disappearing into the mist.

He could make good speed on the path he was one; but something about the hidden, moss-covered path called to him. He could be going backwards if he took this hidden path, and fall even further behind.

Logically, though, he couldn’t know if the path he was on was the right one. Was that the point of this forest? To test your instincts, or to see how lucky you are in choosing the right path?

Hudson stopped dallying and took the hidden path. The sign at the beginning had said “the way is hidden,” so this way must be better. The moss was slippery, and thorny vines hung down and on the sides, making Hudson move slower.

The hidden path curved slightly and began climbing. Large rocks began to pop up amidst the undergrowth, and on more than one occasion, the path meandered upwards through splits in giant, moss-covered boulders.

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After pulling himself up on top of one of these boulders, Hudson emerged into a massive open clearing. The omnipresent mist was thinner here, and in the center of the clearing was the largest tree that he had ever seen before. It was in the shape of an oak tree, but it was far larger than any oak tree could ever grow to. Its canopy covered the entire clearing; its trunk was the size of a large building, or a small city block.

An overwhelming stillness permeated the grove of this elder tree, even more pronounced than the forest itself. Hudson felt like a small mouse, scuttling around the roots of a forest floor. He let out a breath – slowly – that he had not realized he had been holding.

Hudson quietly followed the faint remnants of a path around the outside of the grove. His faint footsteps were muffled by moss and wet leaves, but still intruded on the quiet stillness. There was no buzz of insects and the air was preternaturally still. The only natural sounds were the faint creaking of the upper canopy moving and rustling far above him, and the occasional drip of water striking stone.

A soft plop – almost echoing in the still atmosphere – sounded from in front of him. A small fruit of some kind had fallen in a pile of leaves; it looked like a cross between a plum and an apple, colored deep red with hints of purple on top and bottom.

Hudson looked up and around him, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. If he stared very closely, he could see tiny round shapes in the branches far above him. Oak trees produce acorns, not whatever this was.

He reached down to pick it up, and was immediately accosted by the most enticing smell he had ever experienced. The bottom of the fruit was slightly crushed, breaking the skin open, and the sweet, tart aroma emanating from it reminded Hudson simultaneously of the sharpest hunger pangs and the greatest feeling of satiation he’d ever had.

His desire to eat the fruit was so strong that it short-circuited his entire thought process. He shoved the entire thing into his mouth and chewed, greedily licking up the juices on his fingers and dribbling down his chin. It tasted like every apple, peach, and pear he’d ever eaten, all at once.

After licking his fingers completely clean, even rubbing them against his chin and cheeks to grab any tiny remnants of juice left on his face, he gradually came to his senses. A pleasant coolness had spread through his entire body, and it felt as if he slept for days and were only now waking up.

What had that fruit been? He had never lost control like that. He should have been more concerned with that fact, but he wasn’t. It had felt completely natural to eat the fruit, and he felt fine. Great, even.

More importantly, the stillness of the grove now pressed down on Hudson’s perception with an oppressive weight. It had not felt this way when he had entered..

He glanced up at the canopy overhead, wistful pangs of longing for another one of those fruits. To his surprise, he could clearly see small unripened fruits hanging from branches hundreds of feet above him. He blinked a few times, clearing his eyes. Previously what had been small, blurry shapes were now crystal clear.

He didn’t feel different in any other way – other than an overall pleasant lassitude permeating his muscles. He quickly checked his right wrist, and it was still sore. So no miraculous fix for his damaged meridian from a strange fruit he found in a forest.

The faint creaking of upper canopy branches might have increased, or the temperature in the grove might have dropped slightly. Whatever the reason, he felt increasingly unwelcome in the grove. The instinct that had guided him down the path to this grove was telling him he needed to leave.

Quickly and quietly he continued following the path around the outside of the grove. On the other side, the path dropped suddenly down several rocky switchbacks before ending at a short cliff. Hudson jumped the ten foot drop, rolled at the bottom and came to a stop up against a prickly vine.

Wincing slightly, he pulled a few of the inch-long thorns from his shoulder and upper back. His tunic had resisted the punctures, and they had only pricked his skin slightly, but still stung painfully.

After a few turns, dodging around prickly thorns and slick, moss covered rocks, he circled around the large trunk of a tree and arrived back at what appeared to be the same, broad path that he had been running along previously.

He set off down the path to the right, but shortly realized that he had gone the wrong way when he came upon a set of footprints – his own – leading off to the hidden path. Turning around, he raced forward again, trying to make up time after his fortuitous encounter in the oak grove.

There were smaller paths joining and leaving this broad thoroughfare through the forest, but Hudson stayed on the main path. After fifteen minutes – which was several miles at Hudson’s cultivation-enhanced pace – the path began to rise steeply up a mountain slope. The trees thinned out quickly, and the dirt of the forest path was once again replaced by smooth, uneven cobble.

The ground to the right side of the path began to drop away, until it was lost in the mist. Hudson hugged the steep mountain slope on the left side of the pass, in case he tripped on one of the uneven paving stones.

He slowed suddenly as another huge gate appeared out of the everpresent fog. This gate was built into the side of the mountain, rising forty feet into the air. The twin doors were open, and inscribed across the top of the lintel were a group of symbols that etched themselves into his mind.

At the previous gate, he had not been able to stare at the symbols for more than a split second before his eyes began to water and his head began to ache. Perhaps because of the fruit that he had eaten, Hudson could now bear to look at them for at least a second before tears blocked his vision. Afterimages remained on his retinas for a few seconds afterwards, and he almost felt like he could remember the rough outlines.

He wished he could study strange writing more, but he had spent at least an hour in the forest. He had lost an hour being late to the trial (because of his punishment) and he had no idea how much further he had to go. He hurried through the gate and continued climbing up the side of the mountain, hoping to catch up with Cor, Vince or even Suzume and Clara.