As yesterday, suddenly my eyes fly open. There's a new rustling sound outside my shelter, unfamiliar from the night before. A low growl is immediately recognizable from a thousand nature documentaries and horror stories. I can't believe there would be wolves. A primal fear grips my heart. The monster yesterday was an enigma, but I am very well aware of what wolves do to prey caught alone out in the forest.
She shelter feels constricting now, pressing in from all sides, even as it's protecting me from immediately being spotted. The wolves must be able to smell me, even if they can't see me yet. I can hardly move in here, if I try to crawl out they'd be on me before I could make it even halfway out.
The shuffling and noises outside increase in frequency and volume. It very much sounds like there's more than one. Which shouldn't surprise me, given they travel in packs. I just can't get over the fact that there's wolves. They'd long since disappeared from the forests in the area I was living. My mind races with every survival tip I've ever read, yet offers nothing of any use.
Then, I see a shadow pass in front of my shelter. I'm briefly surprised that I can distinguish between two different blots of pure darkness, but apparently there's still some light somewhere. This fascination is short lived as whatever is outside turns towards me and I see two yellow orbs staring at me out of the darkness. As I cease breathing, the creature moves closer. I nearly wet myself just from what I imagine could happen, but mentally prepare myself to kick it in the face if it tries anything.
Suddenly, the air shifts, and the wolf coming for me bolts, his friends not far behind. The sound of their retreat, a rush of paws against the forest floor, barely registers before it's replaced by another presence. Heavy footfalls thud in the silence left by the fleeing pack, and a weighty realization sits alongside the fear—it's the same creature from yesterday!
As if to mock my terror, it does something so remarkably familiar and absurd that my fear is momentarily undercut by exasperation. The beast relieves itself against my shelter, a hot scent marking its disdain for my panic. I'm upset at the absurdity more than anything else. Did I really come to a new world only to construct a new litter box for this creature every night? Still, I have to admit to a reluctant sense of gratitude. This creature, whatever it may be, has inadvertently saved me from becoming a midnight snack.
When the creature lumbers back into the darkness after finishing it's business, I try to contemplate the insane notion of following a monster in the dead of night. I really do not want to leave the shelter, feeling a primal fear of the dark and the wolves. But logically speaking, close to whatever this creature may well be more secure than staying behind for the wolves to find. Far more importantly, it's clearly drinking enough to relieve itself two nights in a row. This is my best bet to locate what I've been searching for these past few days.
Cautiously, I push myself backwards out of the shelter, grabbing my makeshift spear, and leaving the pungent smell of the animal's discharge behind. The night is crisp, fresh with the scent of trees and earth. I shiver a bit, but no more than that, and then I'm off in pursuit of the creature.
Full of adrenaline, I jerk around at every time I think I hear something. The wolves can't have gone far yet, and I have no idea if they'll turn back now that the big bastard is far enough away. I follow the footsteps of the creature more than anything, my eyes too busy scanning the haunting silhouettes in the forest all around me. The light of the moon gives me precious little light to see by, but it's just barely enough to not walk into every tree in my path.
image [https://pub-43e7e0f137a34d1ca1ce3be7325ba046.r2.dev/Group.png]
Every few moments, I stand still and listen carefully, to find the animal still plodding along in the distance. I keep speeding up and slowing down to keep the noise at about the same level. There's no way I'd actually see its body unless I was literally standing on top of it due to the lack of light, and I have no desire to get too close.
I stagger, realizing just how much the dehydration is hitting me. Going over a day and the better part of a night without a drop of water, coupled with walking all day throughout, really affects how well I'm able to focus.
I grip my improvised spear tightly. I'm not sure if it will help or immediately snap, but I derive a lot of comfort from the idea of being armed regardless.
After an indeterminate period of time, something changes. There’s a slight slope down in the forest floor, and very soon I see what appears to be the reflection of the sky and trees on water.
I can't restrain myself at the sight. I’m not sure how long ago I’ve last heard the creature. The whole thing has turned into a bit of blur, but it’s clearly not anywhere between me and the water, so I rush forward. Every step I take leads me closer to salvation.
In my haste, I step onto what feels like an extra tough branch with a knot digging right into the bottom of my foot. I instinctively pull back my leg to dodge the pain, but it throws me off balance, and I hit the ground. Without a thought I pick myself up and forge on, the lingering pain in my sole quickly forgotten by the promise of water.
Salvation turns out to be a small pond, fed from no apparent source. A spring maybe? The moment I reach it, I quickly cup my hands and scoop up a good amount of water to drink. That first sip is so sweet that it feels like I'm tasting the nectar of the gods.
As I'm shuddering with relief at the world finally cutting me a well deserved break, an ominous growl reverberates behind me. The sound of heavy paws thumping against the ground, drawing nearer, fills my ears.
I swirl back, realizing that maybe, it was a bad idea to assume the animal wasn’t nearby just because I couldn’t see it. My mind is all foggy right now. I barely have time to see a huge shadow the size of a house coming at me. Teeth glisten in the darkness, and a large claw swipes at me. Somehow, I manage to dodge it, but then a searing pain shoots through my right thigh.
I don't wait around to see what the animal is doing, and sprint away as fast as I possibly can. Each step sends a new jolt of agony down my leg. I can feel warm blood pouring down my leg, being flung into the surroundings with every step I take, as I pump my legs to propel myself forward as fast as humanly possible.
I know I should just focus on running, but I risk a glance behind. I don't see the creature following. I hope that means it's not actually giving chase. Maybe I was just in the way of its water?
As I turn my head forward once more, there's a wooden thunk, and the world goes black.
image [https://pub-43e7e0f137a34d1ca1ce3be7325ba046.r2.dev/Group.png]
Everything hurts. It's hard to focus on anything else at first. My head pounds with the rhythm of my heart, every thud sending a new jolt of agony through my temples. I open my eyes, but quickly close them again. Since I'm still alive, I can stay like this for a bit.
A few minutes later, I feel like I'm ready, and I carefully open one eye. The sky is growing light. It must be early dawn, which allows me to see the source of my troubles—the tree that blocks my path. I'm on my back, head nested between its roots. How'd I end up like this after hitting my head on the trunk? A leaf from near the canopy comes slowly drifting down, and my eyes follow it until it's nearly all the way to the ground. I neglect to turn my head to see it land.
As I remember the events of last night, I remember the wound I'd taken yesterday. I can feel my right thigh throb fiercely, but it was hard to notice with the headache. I guess the creature really didn't chase me, which works fine for me.
After a few moments of trying to work myself up to it, I try to sit up to assess what happened. I must have rushed it because that quick movement sends my pounding head into overdrive. I feel the world spinning around me, and have only a moment to jerk my head to the side before I vomit. Fortunately —or unfortunately I suppose— not much comes up since there's hardly anything in my stomach.
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I lower myself back down as gracefully as possible, avoiding further harm. That accomplished, I very carefully tilt my head down to look at my damaged leg. What greets me are deep gashes in my thigh that look as though something carved channels right through it.
I stare wide eyed at the devastation. I've seen plenty of ostensibly worse things on the internet—grisly wounds, decapitations, pieces of adults and children scattered over the size of a small football field after some 'collateral damage'. But it's different when it's your own leg. It's attached to my body! I can count the number of times I've suffered a significant wound on one hand—most of them my own fault—and I'm not used to the experience.
There is a small dried pool of blood on the ground surrounding my leg, but it doesn't seem to be leaking blood any more, though it's similarly covered in it. Whether through my running yesterday, or just running down, the rest of my leg has been painted with a nearly equal amount of blood.
Anticipating the worst, I try to move my leg and am surprised to find that it actually does. It intensifies the pain, but only by a bit. I raise my leg, worried about getting the wound infected, but then laugh weakly at the futility of doing so now. I've been attacked by who knows what and have been lying here with my leg rubbing the dirt for at least an hour, likely longer. A few more minutes won't hurt.
And so I stay there, breathing in and out, trying to figure out what to do now. I know I eventually have to clean the wound, to see what lies beneath all the blood, but most importantly to stave off infection. I don't have any materials to bandage it, so cleaning is as well as possible is my best bet.
I also need to get back to the water to drink. The few swallows yesterday were divine, but they weren't nearly enough, and I lost a lot of blood just now.
After a few minutes I judge that I'm well enough to make another attempt, this time I very slowly push myself up, using the tree as support. It doesn't improve the headache, but at least I feel no need to hurl. I pause before putting any weight on my wounded leg, but when I do, and it works without issue, I have to shake my head at the insanity of the headache from running into a tree being so much more intense than the pain from having my thigh turned into mincemeat.
Looking back the way I came, and then around the forest, I realize I've made it just 50 meters away from the pond before crashing into this tree. Whatever attacked me is now gone.
I gingerly make my way back to the pond, taking care not to put too much weight on my injured leg. The pond, roughly 4 meters in diameter, is a serene sight, with the few sunbeams that manage to penetrate the canopy above creating a shimmering effect on its surface, evoking a sense of enchantment. The water appears to have no discernible source, possibly originating from a hidden spring, but flows away through the leaves in a small trickle.
If this is how all water here flows it doesn’t surprise me I haven’t found any water. You’d basically need to directly step in the wet leaves to notice that there’s any water flowing through or under. You’d think they get carried along with the water, but apparently not.
I reach the edge of the water and take a moment to assess its clarity. It appears to be clean, so I sit down and dip my bloody leg in. The water immediately turns a dark swirling red, and I realize my mistake. I'm not going to drink that.
Holding my leg in the water is somehow extremely painful. The wound stings and burns, and I can't help but wonder how water can have that effect. I really have no choice, and I resist the impulse to jerk my leg back.
After a bit of a soak, I try to carefully clean the area around the wound. I'm too scared to touch the actual wound, and it doesn't seem like a great idea. I'm honestly not sure if immersing the wound in water will help or hurt, but cleaning wounds seems intuitively correct, and I don't want to keep walking around with a bloody leg either.
Finally, I feel like my leg is as clean as it's going to get without more active involvement, I pull it out of the water. Most of the big crusts of blood have washed away. Without the blood my leg looks, if anything, even worse—deep furrows and peeled skin. It does let me see that the wounds aren't as deep as I thought earlier, but it's practically a guarantee it'll get infected if not covered.
Not wanting to think about that, I leave it for later and shuffle around the pond until I find a spot where the water looks only minimally tainted by my own blood. Then, I finally start completely quenching my thirst. I probably should slow down, but I'm so thirsty I can't stop myself.
When I'm sated, I regard the rest of the pond. I really want to wash. I stumble back to the side where I first washed my leg, so all the dirt and contamination stays on the same side. The pond isn't ultimately all that big, but all the contamination seems to dissolve before it gets to the other side. I know that isn't true, but I don't have a lot of options.
I tentatively step into the water with my healthy leg, and my foot immediately sinks about twenty centimeters into the pond's muddy bed. Another step takes me a little deeper into the mud, but not all that much deeper into the water. I realize then that my movement is churning up all kinds of dirt and muck, and I quickly back out of the pond, not wanting to get any of it in my wounds. This is inconvenient.
In the end I settle for rubbing myself clean with water from the pond as best as possible. I immerse my arms and what I can of my legs from the bank. I'm not sure how much cleaner this actually makes me, but at least I feel like I've washed.
image [https://pub-43e7e0f137a34d1ca1ce3be7325ba046.r2.dev/Group.png]
Having achieved my two most immediate goals, I contemplate what to do. This water has extended my survival time by a lot, but I still need food. The presence of dangerous creatures here is concerning too.
Fortunately, food is more abundant than water, the forest should be full of fruits and nuts, and animals will come to the pond to drink, so I can catch them when they do. Now that I have water, I can stay here for a longer period.
That said I have never hunted or caught any animal before. The closest thing to hunting I've ever done is scavenge for deals at the dollar store. In the same way, I'm clueless about which fruits or vegetables are actually edible. I know some roots can be eaten, but I couldn't tell you which to save my life.
At least animals will be easy to find, even if catching them is a different story. If I manage to catch and skin one, I could use it to make clothes or a bag. People used bladders to store water, right? I definitely need a way to carry water with me.
Upon further consideration, I start to have doubts though. This isn't Minecraft where I can easily kill an animal and have it transform into resources. Killing an animal in the first place is questionable. Could I bring myself to do it? I have no idea how to clean and preserve the meat. As for my idea for a waterskin, I also don't even know what a bladder looks like, much less where it would be located.
As much as I dislike the idea of continuing my journey in hopes of finding people, it seems far more likely to help than staying here. Assuming there are people in this world and somewhere nearby, but I don't think the alternative is worth considering at this point.
The only way I could stay here would be to revert to a primal state, which, I suppose, is preferable to dying. However, that's not my only option. There must be some form of civilization around here, and I'm determined to find it!
With that decided, I get to it.
image [https://pub-43e7e0f137a34d1ca1ce3be7325ba046.r2.dev/Group.png]
I start slowly, but as my headache fades away, and I get used to what my leg is and isn't capable of —note to self, jumping is a bad idea— I start moving faster.
Ideally I'd climb a tree, and get a better idea of my surroundings to get some idea of which direction I'd have a better chance of discovering people, but the trees are mostly of an even height and climbing the tallest wouldn't help me much, never mind that I'd never make it to the top with the thin branches and my wounded leg.
I make several trips in various directions from the pond, both in the hope that I will find a way out and to scavenge for food. The difficulty with my leg is mainly trying to keep it as clean as possible. The forest is full of branches and bugs that love to brush past and sit on my broken skin.
I have to keep telling myself I'm not in the middle of a massive blob of trees hundreds of kilometers wide. There must be something I can find that isn't trees, though a little strangled voice keeps telling me I'm going to die here if I'm wrong.
All my scavenging is for naught, as the only thing I find that I recognize as safe is a blackberry bush. I immediately empty it of all the berries I can find. At least it's not winter like in my old world. If it were still January, I'd have a hard time finding berries. Though I suppose that wouldn’t matter as I'd freeze to death within a few hours.
Eating is good though, and having finally slaked some of the persistent hunger, I say a quick prayer of thanks to whomever is listening. I'm not sure anyone is listening, but it feels appropriate given the circumstances.
On my last trip before it gets too dark to make another one, and I have to make my way back to the pond to settle in for the night, I find what I've been looking for all this time.
The forest suddenly gives way, and I find myself on what is clearly a dirt road. It isn't a major highway by any means, but it would fit a car.
It doesn't have any visible tracks, but that would be too much to hope for. It doesn't look like the road is traveled often, but just having some indication that other sentient beings exist, and that they build things like roads, causes me to sigh in relief.
Not being able to do much more, I follow my trail of upright sticks back to the pond and build myself a shelter a hundred meters away. Hopefully, it's far enough that whatever ambushed me last night won't do so again today. I also make sure it has a sturdy barrier in front of the opening this time, so as to prevent the wolves from just walking right in.
I lie down. My leg has stopped smarting somewhere during the day, but most likely I've just gotten used to it, as the pain quickly returns with a vengeance. At least the headache is gone, and there's no way any pain can stand up to the exhaustion of spending a whole day walking after last night's ordeal. So I fall asleep almost immediately, only having some vague plans of following the road tomorrow in my head.