Chapter 33: Bugging Out

His leg stung from where a bramble scraped him earlier, though no blood was drawn. By itself it posed no problem, but these inconveniences were beginning to add up. His legs were sore under his ripping trousers, and though they’d carried him near the full day at a decent clip, they were ready to give in, complaining with every stride.

Though it had been subtle at first, the landscape had been slowly changing, the flora becoming less dense, though no smaller. Large fungi dotted the bases of the tree flowers now, in colors that promised danger, and while his stomach rumbled for sustenance, he had little in the way of food. Only a days rations remained as part of the kit hunters took out with them; Violet had lent him hers.

It was cold now too, the humidity in the air leeching the warmth from his skin and frittering it away to who knows where under the darkened sky. He could feel the heat of his determination slowly give way to a bone tiredness. The rush of energy and emotions had slowly unraveled as he walked, and he was left with cold reality come evening.

The dimming light proved little obstacle to him, and he pushed on, striding past a unique patch of mushrooms, flooding out of a stem from above, like a waterfall. These ones did smell tasty, and he grabbed a handful on the way by. He popped one in his mouth. The texture was bland, but it had a sharp nutty taste. It would work well in a dish, he thought. Not that he knew much about cooking.

Food in hand, he brought his thoughts back to Mitts, where they had been most of the day. Where was she? Was she hurt? Scared? He didn’t know, and not knowing was the worst part, allowing his imagination to fill in the blanks where his knowledge couldn’t. He reigned his thoughts before they could race away again, pointing them somewhere useful.

He did not know where he was going, or where he was. He knew North was where he should go, but he didn’t know where it was. He knew the sun rose on the west, so he figured he’d be able to orient himself come morning, but until then, he’d best preserve strength. Or did it rise in the east? One of those two directions, probably.

He took a deep inhale through his nose. He was hoping to catch her scent on the wind, but so far, there was no luck. No indication of her distinctive trail, just the lingering scent of the jungle. Insects, flowers, earth. Of the latter two he’d seen plenty, though insects had been scarce. He’d caught sight of a large ant earlier, about as big as a small dog, but he’d given it a wide berth out of caution.

That was another thing he felt was somewhat out of place for him. Caution. Had he been burned by recklessness too much? He didn’t know. He just knew his current quest was not one he’d be okay failing. And he knew failure was possible. It wasn’t something he liked thinking about, what might happen if he lost her, whether she left willingly or not.

Mitty was a true companion, and his very first. She did not show it as he did, but she cared for him and understood him most of all. Since the day she saved him from a life of four walls, even if by accident, they’d had each other’s backs. He didn’t think she’d stop now.

He shook his head to clear him of his contemplations. It was unlike him to worry about what he could not change in the moment. His plan was simple because it needed no further steps. Find Mitty, rescue her if needed. That was sufficient.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

His legs gave searing commands now, no longer suggestions, so he plopped onto the soft ground at the base of a stem and set aside his pack, withdrawing a thin blanket. The climate had been temperate until now, but tonight a fine mist sapped warmth from exposed skin, leaving him shivering as he drew in his blanket.

He settled in, listening to the wind blow through the petals above, marveling how the stars could just barely be seen from below, peeking through in patches. There was so much beauty in this world, now that he learned to look. It wasn’t long before he drifted off to the sounds of the jungle.

***

He couldn’t say what for certain woke him, for the sounds of the jungle persisted. Darkness had settled onto the jungle floor snugly. Debating a moment, he eventually sat up, letting in a chill of humid air. From the corner of his vision, something moved in complete silence.

He pulled out his staff reluctantly, but his mind was still shaking off sleep as he caught yet more movement in his peripheral. There, a flash, and then, behind him-

He threw himself to the side as a dark serpentine form dropped from above, landing where he’d lain moments ago. An angry chittering emerged from the shape, as well as the clicking and scraping of hundreds of little feet on the flora around him. Thousands of feet.

Not pausing to posture or reconsider, the centipede that had dropped where he slept skittered towards him, silent but for the dead leaves it swept out of the way in its passage. A probing blow from his staff followed by a more committed one resulted in no damage, merely stalling it as it absorbed the blow with a hardened carapace.

Behind him now another one emerged and he flung it away with his staff.

He saw his pack nearby with two others swarming it, no doubt after the little remaining food packed within. A split-second decision. Run, or fight?

He ran, and already he saw others swarming to where he’d been. Dozens of them. Better to give these insects their meal than become it, much as it pained him to waste perfectly fine rations.

At least he still had the bag of candy Mitts had left him. It bulged with little honied sweets, balls of sugar no bigger than the end of his thumb. Her final message. “Come find me” it might have said. He popped one into his mouth.

It was cool and refreshing, like an ocean breeze wafting away stale air, but instead of air, his fatigue was replaced with a sensation of readiness. There was a false heat to it that underpinned the coolness but did not engulf it, and the aftertaste had his whole body feeling minty from toes to nose. Even his eyesight blurred from sleep seemed sharper. He slowed his retreat to feel his legs and found that the scratches had faded too.

Even his confidence felt refreshed, after having worn it down going in the circles of his own mind. He would get a straight answer from Mitty when they met, but until then he would not, could not, believe she was gone.

When the cultists had attacked, a mere three enemies had delayed him to uselessness. Looking at how he fought only a week prior, it was a start, but he needed more power if he was going to take the fight to them. More [Strength], more [Speed] and definitely more skill. Maybe even some of those weirder ones his teacher had demonstrated would not be beyond his reach. He needed the power to cull his enemies like treats before a puppy if he wanted to hang on to all of his friends. Where he’d once neglected personal power, he now felt its lack strongly, and was determined to make up for lost time with sweat and blood.

He slowed from the jog he’d taken up in retreat, readying his staff once more. This time a large beetle blocked his path forward, clicking its pincers angrily. He could have gone around, if he wanted. He did not want that. This beetle stood between him and Mitty.

The coolness flowed through his veins like icy fire, his determination crystallizing. He met the insect’s challenge head on, a misty trail following the edge of his wooden staff, striking the beetle. Against an insect, there was no need for the subtleties of a true fight. This was enough.

He was enough.