I don’t know how long I tumbled through the kaleidoscope of colors. It may have just been a few brief moments but subjectively it seemed like I was bouncing around forever. Eventually, the colors started organizing themselves into shapes and then reverting into more natural hues. With a final burst, reality snapped back into focus.

I was no longer in the forest. I could no longer hear the rushing of the river. Instead, I found myself standing in a barren and rocky landscape. I was humming a sad sounding tune in a minor key. My perspective seemed off somehow, as if I had grown a couple of feet taller. I tried to turn my head to survey my surroundings but my body refused to respond. Then, I began walking forward.

My long strides quickly propelled me down the hill I was perched on. I slipped and slid on loose scree as I descended. From time to time, I could see my arms swinging forward as I stepped, or flung out to the sides in an attempt to maintain my balance. My fingers were tipped with claws, my arms unnaturally long, my skin greenish in color with a pebbled texture.

Where had I seen this all before? After a few glimpses, I realized that I was riding along as a mental passenger with the tall green creature that I had dreamt about. I decided to just go with the flow, to see where the vision would take me. Its not like this was the strangest thing to happen to me in the last couple of days.

At the bottom of the hill, we had reached the start of a ravine. On the ground ahead, there was a well-worn path. We started striding up the path and after a few minutes of walking arrived at what appeared to be a guard post. A small rocky overhang lapped over the side of the ravine and under the overhang was a cooking pot, a couple of pallets for sleeping and a table with a pair of wooden benches. On one of the benches, another similar but slightly smaller creature sat eating some sort of mystery meat.

The humming stopped.

“I didn’t see any sign of it,” the body I was riding along in said in a low guttural voice. “Are you sure that you correctly identified the scat?”

Looking up from his meal, the other figure replied. “Yes, Juma, you hulking brute. I don’t tell you how to fight, so don’t tell me how to do my job. I have been hunting and tracking in these hills since before you were born. I know what I saw. Come, I will show you.”

Standing, the other creature walked back down the ravine in the direction that we had come from. Juma, which from context was either the name of the person I was riding along with or a term of derision that I was unfamiliar with, turned and trudged along behind.

After exiting the ravine, the creature we were following continued along the low ground, walking for several minutes beyond where we had descended from the hills. He then turned and starting to scramble up a hill. Ascending the hill was difficult and soon, because of how steep it was, it was more of a crawl than a walk. Even so, the unnaturally long arms of the creatures proved their worth allowing them to progress quickly upwards.

After reaching more level ground, the creature we were following started studying the ground, swinging its head slowly back and forth. After a few moments, it let out a satisfied grunt and began slowly moving along the ridgeline.

We followed. Both Juma and his compatriot were obviously in good shape as the climb had not winded either one of them.

After a few minutes, the other creature stopped short. Juma had obviously become lost in his thoughts as he nearly piled into the back of the smaller creature, but at the last second he managed to pull up. Stepping to the left around his associate, Juma peered at the ground.

On the ground was a large pile of animal droppings. Juma reached down and poked his finger in them, and then disgustingly raised his finger to his lips and tasted the droppings.

I am sad to say that not only could I see what Juma saw and hear what Juma heard, but I could taste what Juma tasted. The taste was absolutely horrible and if I had been in control of the body I am certain I would have been bent down on the ground retching.

“You are right, Anje,” Juma’s gravely voice said. “I am sorry that I doubted you. The droppings are fresh. I wonder where it has gone. We should let the tribe know so we can form a hunting party. These things are dangerous.”

“Funny,” Anje replied. “That’s exactly what I told you hours ago, but you doubted me and wasted time because you had to see for yourself. No more wasted time. Let’s get back down. You can stand guard while I run back to gather the others.”

Juma and Anje turned and began retracing their steps. The sky was clear and the breeze that blew across the skin of Juma’s face was very warm. The rocky hills were dotted with sparse scrubby vegetation, but the prickly brush looked inedible. I surmised that these creatures subsisted on what they could farm, hunt or herd.

Just as they reached the bottom of the hill, a shadow passed overhead. Juma glanced up and I could see that the sky was still cloudless.

“Run,” Anje commanded.

Juma and Anje took off and sprinted with long, loping strides towards the opening of the ravine. Despite his smaller physique, Anje was the quicker runner and before long was several yards ahead of Juma as they came in sight of the initial descent into the ravine.

Suddenly, Juma and I were sent sprawling by a crushing blow from behind. We went skidding across the ground, scraping across sharp rocks until finally tumbling to a stop. I felt the rocks painfully tearing the skin from my hands and knees, my elbows and my back.

Bolting to his feet, I saw Juma’s arms reach behind his back and then reappear grasping a large crude metal sword. It had almost no edge, and seemed more like a club than sword, almost like a five foot long, six inch wide crowbar. Juma spun to face our attacker.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Run, Anje!” he cried. “Go find help!”

Looking up, I could see a flying creature turning to make another pass at us. Trailing behind it was a long sinuous tail that sprouted large spikes near its end. The tail was attached to a leonine body with a long mane that flowed backwards from the force of the wind. Its face appeared more human than lion, and it was held aloft by a pair of long wings that were reptilian or bat-like.

My mind stuttered for a moment as I realized what I was seeing. Was that a manticore?

Behind me, I heard Anje’s steps receding as he continued pounding down the trail to the ravine.

Juma held his sword before him pointed upwards. My attention was drawn to a bleeding cut on the back of Juma’s hand. Within a brief moment, the cut had stopped bleeding and the skin was knitting itself back together before my eyes.

Was Juma regenerating? Was Juma a troll?

The manticore swung around in the air until it was facing us. Hovering in the air, its long tail whipped forward over its head, launching a spike at Juma. Juma tried to parry the spike but was not quick enough and I felt a sharp pain as the spike embedded itself in our right thigh.

Taking one hand off the sword, Juma reached down and tore the spike from his leg with a pained grunt. When the spike was removed, the pain was as intense as it was when it embedded itself in the first place leading me to believe that the end of it was barbed.

The manticore did not hover idly as this occurred. As soon as Juma’s hand dropped from the sword to attend to the spike, it charged through the air, its claws reaching forward and its mouth opened wide.

But somehow Juma was ready for its attack. As it approached, he drew back his arm and met the manticore with a massive one-handed blow from the sword. The sword struck true, clubbing the side of the manticore’s body just as it arrived. At the same time, the manticore smashed into Juma sending him back to the ground. The sword he was holding was blasted from his grip, skittering off to the side of the path.

After bowling over Juma, the strength of the sword strike and the impact of the collision sent the manticore to the ground. With a furious cry, Juma rolled to his knees and lunged at the manticore. The manticore spun to meet him.

Paraphrasing Tennyson, nature is red in tooth and claw. Juma and the manticore rolled on the ground, biting and tearing at each other. Although the manticore was massive, Juma must have been stronger or weighed more because he soon was astride the manticore with its back flat on the ground. Juma tucked his chin and continued biting at the underbelly of the manticore and clawing with every ounce of his strength. The manticore was equally ferocious, biting at Juma’s head and tearing at the sides of his body.

I could feel wound after wound, one terrible pain after another. My mind was screaming at the sheer torture the manticore inflicted on us, and I could feel Juma’s life force ebbing, but Juma was relentless. I tasted blood. Juma began whipping his head back, pulling and rending chunks of viscera from the manticore’s belly. A pool of red stained the rocky ground beneath us.

The manticore’s struggles weakened until finally it stopped moving altogether. Juma did not stop immediately, though. He continued forcing his battered body to bite, rip and rend.

Finally satisfied, he rolled off the manticore’s corpse. Raising his head, Juma bellowed a primal scream. Standing shakily, he tottered over to his sword. Dragging it behind him, he laboriously shuffled down the path back to the guard post.

Reaching it, he dropped the sword to the ground and collapsed in a bloody and sticky heap on one of the bedrolls.

Although he lost consciousness, I didn’t. I reflected on what I had just witnessed -- the pain, the savagery, the exhilaration. I had always thought I was a survivor, but I was weak sauce compared to Juma’s resilience during his life and death struggle. Modern life prepares you for many things, but an immediate, physical fight to the death is not something that most people had to face where I grew up. I think Juma’s determination showed me what I would need to become to survive.

I don’t know how much time passed, but Juma regained consciousness when he heard someone crunch over the rocky ground surrounding the guard post. He opened his eyes and started rolling to his feet, only to see another of his kind reaching down with his hand to help him up. Juma blearily reached out his hand to accept the assistance, but as soon as their hands touched I felt the surging electrical energy again and Juma began glowing. You know what happened to him next.

As Juma lost consciousness, I abruptly found myself back in the forest clearing by the river. Fine powder was dribbling out of the hand that I had used to grasp the essence crystal. My body felt different. I felt stronger and more resilient, and the pain from my wounds was quickly fading.

I crawled back out of the thicket, and glanced up at the sky. The sun was fairly low. It would be night again soon. Although my situation had not really improved, I was suffused with a sense of wellness. The wound on my back was itching, and I absently reached to rub at the edge of it that I could reach. When I touched it, I did not receive the expected jolt of pain. Curious, I took off my jacket and reached under my bandage to touch the wound.

All I felt was smooth and unblemished skin.

What the hell had just happened to me? Had I somehow collapsed for several days? If so, why was I not more hungry?

I stood and in the dying light began retracing my steps around the clearing. Reaching the area where I had fought the severed hands, I found places where my blood had spattered and pooled on the ground. The blood wasn’t completely dry yet, giving credence to the belief that it was still the same day.

Sitting once more, I took out my last protein bar and slowly ate it while contemplating what had happened to me. Did essence crystals transfer some of the abilities of the one who was harvested into their recipient? Had I gained Juma’s ability to regenerate?

Deciding to test my theory, I drew my belt knife and, after steeling my resolve, I sliced the palm of my hand. The cut still hurt as much as I expected it to, and I immediately started bleeding. The bleeding soon stopped, though, as I sat there astounded as the skin on my hand knit itself back together without leaving a scar.

Wow, I thought. Now there’s a boost to my survival chances.

I still had five essence crystals left, but two of them felt completely repugnant to me. I wondered what separated those that felt inviting from those that disgusted me. Was there some incompatibility between some people like different blood types, or was the difference significantly less superficial? They were called essence crystals. Maybe our essences had to have a certain degree of affinity?

One thing I knew was that if each of the other three essence crystals that resonated with me granted equivalent boosts, my chance to survive and perhaps even thrive had increased significantly. I considered waiting until the next day to try to absorb another crystal, but then I realized that I should obtain as many skills and abilities as I could as soon as possible. Even though I felt better, my ability to provide for myself had not significantly improved and I needed every advantage that I could muster.

Back into the thicket I crawled. Reaching into my pack, I drew out another glowing essence crystal. Staring into its depths with its gentle warmth in my hand, I started slipping down the tunnel of light once more.