The next morning, I set out early. Somehow, being dropped in a different world with no distractions from screens meant my messed up sleep schedule finally corrected itself.
The first thing I do, is drink my fill from the pond. I can't get over how nice it is to finally be able to drink again. Too much will make me sick, but it's hard to hold back, and I drink as much as I can justify. I'll probably pee out the excess, but hopefully some of it will stick around.
I must admit I might be a little bit influenced by my growling stomach, which stops complaining when I fill it with water. The berries from yesterday did take the edge off the hunger, but they didn't solve the slowly growing problem that I haven't eaten anything solid for 3 days.
I fear that I am unconsciously suppressing my worries about the food problem because fixing that issue seems to require me to hunt. I've never in my life killed anything bigger than a mosquito, and even those with reluctance. I'll admit that they're hella annoying, but it just never seemed right to squish one solely because it was acting according to its nature.
Unfortunately, I haven't seen anything more edible than the berries yesterday, and I've spent the whole day searching. I was hoping for apples, or other fruits, but nothing manifested. Conversely, small animals are everywhere in abundance. The sound of birds fills the forest, and every step I take something small and furry jumps away in front of me.
How would I even cook any meat? I have no idea how to make fire. Well, yes, rub some sticks against each other, but that's the extent of my knowledge. Or flint and steel, but neither of those are forthcoming. To be fair, I guess cooking the meat isn't strictly necessary for sustenance, but the idea of eating uncooked meat is even harder to contemplate than hunting in the first place.
I discard those thoughts for now and set off in the direction I found the road yesterday. Now that I can go straight there, it isn't more than an hour's walk away.
As much as I wanted it to be different, when I arrive, it seems deserted in both directions.
Just like yesterday. I sigh. I had held out some vague hope that I'd find people here today, but it doesn't look like this road sees a lot of usage. There's no trace of any tracks dug through the dirt here.
Completely at random, I set off towards my left. Or maybe not completely random. Apparently people like walking around a supermarket that way around. Maybe I'm influenced by things beyond my comprehension?
It's nice to walk on a road for once. Aside from the ease of walking, I finally have the feeling I'm going somewhere. Regardless of how far away it is, there's definitely something at the end of, or along, this road. I'm not forced to keep planting sticks just to not lose my way either.
The road itself isn't much to speak of. It's literally just a dirt trail that's about wide enough that a single wagon—I'm not sure why those come to mind now instead of cars—could drive down it. If two came from different directions, they'd have issues passing each other by though. I guess one of them would need to push themselves into the forest on either side.
Despite everything, I can enjoy this walk through this forest again. I feel like I have a better chance of achieving my goals than before, I'm filled with fluids again, and there's nothing to do but to walk, so I can allow myself to enjoy the scenery a little bit.
Every few minutes, I see little furry animals shooting off in all directions, probably not used to seeing people about. There's a constant twittering of various birds in the trees, and one particular bird is noticeable for its incredibly shrill call.
Previously I hadn't really registered trees as anything but trees, but now each of them start to stand out as individuals, each with their own identity. I'm sure one of them is a chestnut tree, evidenced by the chestnuts scattered all around it.
Wait, aren't those edible? I pick one up, and look at it. It doesn't exactly look very edible. I don't really have anywhere to store it either. I drop it back to the ground and move on.
At some point I notice a strange mound next to the path, and upon inspection, I find that it's a sort of burrow. When I look into what I suppose is the entrance, three pairs of glowing yellow eyes look back at me.
Whatever animals they are, they don't feel like showing themselves to me. They're not interested in anything beyond their burrow. I eventually shrug and walk on.
image [https://pub-43e7e0f137a34d1ca1ce3be7325ba046.r2.dev/Group.png]
About half an hour later, I note something strange. It feels like something is telling me to step off the path, and walk back into the forest. It's somewhat reminiscent of the weird feeling of certainty I get when contemplating I've arrived in a new world.
I can step off the path, or I can continue. It only takes me a short while to decide. A little detour won't hurt, and I really want to figure out the source of this feeling. As I step back into the forest, the feeling grows stronger and stronger.
But a few minutes of walking, brings me to the source of the feeling. In between all the other trees of the forest stands something I've never seen before. A tree unlike anything else. It actually bears fruit, but it's hard to focus on the fact it's fruit, since the fruit seems to be glowing with some inner light. I imagine this must be quite the spectacle at night.
The tree is big! It's not quite as large as some trees I've seen, but it easily surpasses most other fruit bearing trees I've seen. There must be hundreds of the fruits hanging in there. Getting closer, I can see that the fruits aren't all that much different from apples. Maybe a cross between an apple and a mango. My stomach growls. Unlike the chestnuts, these do actually look very appetizing, but something about eating a glowing fruit screams of danger to me.
My body doesn't seem to care for that reasoning, and whatever it was that made me feel I needed to go here now tells me I need to eat those fruits. I tentatively pluck one off a lower branch, and stare at it as it practically screams at me to eat it.
I guess if it were truly poisonous I wouldn't feel that way right? And it looks like an apple, or a mango, those are both edible. I tentatively take a bite. A few minutes later, I come to my senses, and find the remains of three devoured fruits in front of me. Strangely enough, my stomach still feels just as empty as it did before, but something about the way I feel is qualitatively different. My burning desire to consume more of the fruit is certainly gone.
The remains of the fruits have lost their previous luster, and what I imagine is the core -it truly does look like an apple- sits on the ground without a speck of light emanating from it. There's little seeds popping out of the sides, much like an apple too. Maybe apples have been replaced with the glowing fruit in this world?
After satisfying an appetite I didn't know I had - not for food, but something else entirely - I sit there considering the tree and its fruits for a bit longer before giving it up as an enigma and going on my way. I bring one fruit along for the road, and make my way back to it. It's a shame I cannot bring any more, but I don't exactly have a massive amount of storage space on my body... I wonder if there's any more of these in the forest, I certainly haven't seen them before, and I've walked quite a bit. The fact that I was pulled so strongly in the direction of this tree probably means I would have noticed if I'd been near one before.
As I make my way further down the road, I find myself wondering what the fruits are. I'm absolutely certain nothing like it exists on earth. And this sensation after consuming them. It's as if they fill a void within me I never before felt was there.
This must be it. I'll get my powers here right? It's been a long time coming, but come on. I find a magical tree in the middle of an ancient forest, get pulled there by some indescribable sensation, and eat a bunch of glowing fruit that fills up a part of me I never knew was there. It's almost deus ex machina. Even if nothing happens now, then surely, in my moment of need, I'll suddenly find a well of power deep within me. A well that was previously empty it seems. Somehow the magic fruits fill the magic well? It's as good an explanation as any.
It's a shame that I don't know of any stories where the need of the protagonist was to conjure food out of thin air. Even if I do suddenly become super strong, how does that really help me? Maybe I'd be able to walk faster? Fly? I guess it'd be too much to expect to immediately be able to fly.
As I walk on, such, and many other thoughts about the potential nature of the fruits pass through my mind.
image [https://pub-43e7e0f137a34d1ca1ce3be7325ba046.r2.dev/Group.png]
I walk until the sun has passed its midway point, and is back on the way down again, when I notice a lot of time has passed, and my leg has started throbbing. Worried, I inspect the wound on my thigh and notice that the skin around the edges, and probably the whole wound, has an ugly red shine.
That's not very promising, but I don't have a lot of options. I already washed it, and I can hardly sit down and rest. I have to make this second wind I've gotten from the water last. I have to keep going.
Maybe I'll find some form of civilization by the end of the day? Maybe there is a way-station for travelers somewhere along the road? No matter how much I want it though, this road just feels too minor to have anything like that.
As the sun begins to set, I find myself utterly worn out. Even though I've drank my fill this morning, the lack of true food is starting to take a toll on me. A few hours ago I realized I had to ease up, to spare both my leg and not use too much energy, but the infection has undeniably gotten worse.
It doesn’t help that my feet are killing me. Nothing in my life prepared me for spending all day, every day, walking nearly all the time. The road is a mixed blessing and curse. It makes it easy to avoid stepping on things I shouldn’t, but that hard-packed dirt is definitely tougher to walk on than the soft undergrowth.
I realize I haven't taken any time to prepare a shelter. Stupid! I start berating myself, but then realize that both forgetting, and berating myself for doing so feels unlike myself. I glance at my angrily throbbing leg and press my palm against my forehead. I'm burning up with fever.
I make an attempt to construct a shelter anyway, but after gathering a few branches I realize I just am not in any state to complete it, so I start looking for a naturally sheltered sleeping spot instead.
Given that I don't have a great deal of energy, when I find some sort of hollow between two twisting tree branches I quickly decide it'll do. I only grab some moss for a makeshift pillow, but for the first time since arriving in this world, I simply let myself fall into the embrace of the forest floor.
The moss must have made me complacent because directly lying down on all the branches and rocks is a decidedly less pleasant experience when not wearing any clothes.
I sit up again and quickly try to clear the area of any pointy obstacles that would press into my back. Then I decide to grab a patch of moss to put my infected leg on as well. I'm not sure it'll help, but it'll make me sleep better.
That done, I'm utterly out of power. I flop back down again, now marginally more comfortable, and my eyes flutter closed immediately. I'm worried that my exposed position will matter, but I'm too exhausted to care.
image [https://pub-43e7e0f137a34d1ca1ce3be7325ba046.r2.dev/Group.png]
I wake up to pain. A pain I've never yet experienced in my life. This morning, the fifth day in what I now consider my new world, is the worst one yet. It's even worse than the day I ran into a tree.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
It seems there's a unique kind of agony tied to a deeply infected wound, one that digs deeper than the mere surface. The initial pain was localized and obvious, but this current pain is different. The skin around my wound is red and swollen, and my entire leg feels like it's engulfed in flames.
Honestly, I'm not sure what to do here. I just don't have any way to make this better. I wrack my brain for ideas, for ways to deal with an infected wound when you have absolutely nothing, but of course nothing comes to mind. All our ways of dealing with disease and pain rely on medicine. Medicine obtained from a medical system that's nowhere to be found. Now I wish I'd paid more attention to all those natural remedies, I'm sure there was some ounce of truth to them, but it always seemed so needlessly ineffective when we had true medicine.
It's probably not a good idea to put weight on my leg right now, but I can't just sit still. I crawl out of the shelter and cautiously attempt to put some weight on my leg. Suddenly, I hear a low whining sound and realize it came from me. Putting weight on my leg is definitely not pleasant.
I lean against the closest tree to relieve some pressure on my leg, but then I realize how silly I'm being. Despite the pain, I can't stop. I'm too far away from the pond. Even if I turn back now, I'd never make it there, and I doubt I could find it again in the first place.
There must be some kind of settlement nearby, right? Otherwise, why would there be a road? I have to find people there that can help me!
I try putting some weight on my leg once more, prepared for the pain this time and managing not to whimper.
But then, my stomach growls loudly, and I almost collapse from sheer exhaustion. Will this ever get better? I've been trying to focus on survival, shutting down other thoughts, but desperation is starting to seep through the mental block I've been trying to keep in place. I cannot allow myself to consider how little chance I have of survival if things keep going as they are. I haven't had any substantial food in days, and finding water is still an impossible task, now my leg is inflamed, the thought of covering the same distance as yesterday feels downright impossible.
I forcefully squash all those thoughts, and instead taking a bite from the glowing blue fruit I had remaining from yesterday. It seemed appropriate to eat it at breakfast, even if it doesn't seem to fill my stomach, at least I have the ritual of eating breakfast to give me a semblance of normality.
image [https://pub-43e7e0f137a34d1ca1ce3be7325ba046.r2.dev/Group.png]
When I'm done eating. I slowly stumble my way back to the path, then trudge my way down it. I’m not making much progress when compared to yesterday, but I’m moving. Sort of.
The one good thing to say about all this is that at least the pain doesn’t seem to get worse when I walk. Sure, every time I put my foot down I feel like I’m being stabbed, but it’s the same stab every single time.
I make it about 2 hours by my measure of the sun when I suddenly realize I'm tipping to the side. I catch myself, and look around. I can’t figure out what would make me suddenly lose my balance. The path is essentially flat. My feet aren’t especially painful either, due to my slow walking speed.
It's hard to keep track of time now. I don't really know how long I've been walking, but suddenly the the ground rises up to meet me, and I find myself splattering into the dirt of the road. Goddammit, why does this keep happening? I can hardly sense my leg any more, and it seems a bit unresponsive to my desires, but I get it back in line. Which is good, since I want to keep moving. I believe there was a very important reason for doing so, even if I can't quite remember what it was.
I push myself back onto my feet somehow, the leg has just become a background noise of agony. I think I make it quite far again, but even the forest is a blur now. Surely it should be afternoon by now? I squint at the sky, but no matter how I look at it it still seems like it's not even noon yet.
An interminable time later, my body just seems to decide that enough is enough, and from one step to the next I slump to the ground, hitting the dirt like a boneless lump.
What was I doing? I shake my head, silly me, can't remember. I guess it's time for a break. To the side of the road where there's a comfortable looking mossy tree, which I drag myself towards. My leg ain't doing so well it seems. Can't move it at all. But my arms are strong enough! In no time at all, but in what might have been hours for all I noticed, I've positioned myself under the tree. My back comfortable against the trunk.
Finally comfortable, I look down all along the way I came from. There's a funny red line in the dirt that leads all the way from where I came from right to where I'm sitting. I wonder who drew that there? Silly thing to draw a line on a road nobody travels. Red's a weird color too, should be white, if it's like this it's like someone painted the road with blood... Oh.
As I look at the trail of blood, I have just a fleeting moment of concern before my thoughts scatter once more. The grass here is pleasant. There’s trees around. The sun is shining. Hah that brings to mind a song.
The sun is shining, I feel good, and no-ones gone stop me now, oh yeah.
There’s worse places to meet your end. I should just sit here for a while. Yes, that sounds good...
image [https://pub-43e7e0f137a34d1ca1ce3be7325ba046.r2.dev/Group.png]
A few hours later I come around. I must have passed out right as I had that thought. I can't quite remember what thought that was, but my mind feels clearer now. The sun is far past its halfway point, and I’m mostly inclined to just stay here like this for a bit. I marginally turn my head, and look down the road that I was following. In stories, this would be the moment where the hero hears the hooves, or the wagon, or other rescuers. But the road remains stubbornly empty.
That magic power-up also never really materialized. Whatever those glowing fruits do, it's nothing that helps me fight off infection.
I look towards the other side, and find the road there to be empty too. But a small animal sits in the middle of the road, looking at me cautiously. I have some difficulty focusing my eyes, but I think that’s a rabbit.
I keep observing the creature as it sedately approaches me. When it gets to within a few arms lenghts it becomes clear that it is indeed a rabbit. It has glossy white fur, two beady black eyes that seem to stare at nothing, and fluffy pointy ears. Maybe it’s curious about the invader of it's domain? Maybe it's never seen humans before? Whatever the reasons, it doesn't pause in it's approach, and a little while later, I have a fluffy white rabbit sniffing all over my body.
Initially I cannot bring myself to care, but at some point, as I see it sniffing around without a care in the world, something snaps in me.
I'm seething with this irrational rage toward this rabbit, like it embodies the sheer indifference of the world as it just keeps throwing shit at me. It’s acting as if I’m some sort of curiosity, a, a... wax figure? While I’m lying here naked, slowly dying from hunger, thirst, blood loss and an infection. Whichever one of them will get me first. All because some random fluke! I don’t fucking deserve this!
The rabbit is right there, and doesn't seem to care when I move my arm slightly and grab it by one of its paws. Its leg feels surprisingly fragile under my grip. When it realizes I have a hold on it, it tries to get away, scrabbling its paws on the forest floor and flinging up some dirt. But before it has a chance to really struggle, I use what power I can muster, and, as I lift it up, roll my body to the side. That causes a sharp flare of pain in my leg, but I at this point I don’t care. I'm on a mission. My arm and the rabbit sail around in a shallow arc that terminates when its skull crashes into the large rock I know is waiting there. I hear a satisfying crack that resounds in my mind, and it goes immediately still.
The silence that follows the crack is deafening, giving way to the rush of my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. For a moment, I lie there, panting, the weight of the rabbit's body a warm, limp reality against my side. Guilt, hot and immediate, wells up inside me. It didn’t do anything against me, but I killed it for no other reason than to get back at the world.
With trembling hands, I inspect the rabbit; its fur still soft amidst the grime and blood that now stains it. I’m surprised by how it still looks more or less the same. Assuming you ignore the crushed skull. You’d think that there’d be a bigger difference between life and death.
As I look at the limp rabbit, my eyes get pulled to the plump thighs, the fatty belly, and the general size of the creature. As much as I hate the reasons for what I did, I can't argue with the benefits. Relieved that I now have an excuse for what I half think of as murder, I think about how to go about this; I have no tools for skinning or butchery, but I don't think I really have a choice. If I don't take this chance I won't ever get another one.
I contemplate the crude methods at my disposal. I put the rabbit down, and manage to make myself sit up a bit straighter. I look around for the sharpened stick that I brought with me. Surprisingly enough it’s right next to me. Apparently even delirious I still had the presence of mind to keep my sole protective measure with me. Not that it helps me against any of the demons I’m actually facing.
It can help me with the rabbit though. I lie it on the ground, and hover the sharpened stick over it awkwardly before stabbing down. I manage to awkwardly pierce its skin, and with ragged breaths, I peel it back. My actions feel both monstrous and clumsy. I find myself repeatedly jabbing the spear to loosen the skin. Yet as I expose the flesh, I remember reading somewhere that one must remove the entrails first because not doing so is bad for some reason. With no other choice, I use my hands to dig through the insides of the rabbit, trying to find and extricate what I imagine are the organs. As I hold a handful of organs torn from it's body, I cackle madly, quivering from both revulsion and excitement. I feel powerful, as if I'm taking control back from the mad world, even if it's through dissecting a rabbit. The organs I found are discarded to my side, and I dig back in to see if I've missed anything.
After I remove everything that I think qualifies as a entrails, I’ve calmed down, and the process of trying to strip the rest of the meat of the skin through a combination of tearing, stabbing and cutting with my stick feels more tedious than anything.
There's still some reluctance about what I'm about to do, but hunger and some form of feeling I owe the rabbit, stifle the protests of my unsettled stomach. Raw meat carries risks—bacteria, parasites. I know this, but against the pangs of starvation, such knowledge rings hollow. With trepidation, I lift one of the smaller pieces of meat to my lips, still dripping blood. I bite down, and chew slowly as I try to suppress my body's urge to reject the uncooked flesh.
I’m worried about what might follow: violent gastrointestinal distress or worse, but it's a gamble against the odds of nature, give the certain death that awaits me without sustenance, without providing my body with the means to fight off the infection, it’s one that I’m more than willing to make.
The hide meanwhile sits discarded, yet not without purpose. As I chew I consider its use—a crude pouch, or wrapped around sticks to kindle a fire once dried. For now, though, that fire remains a hopeful daydream without flint or tool to spark it into reality. I suppose I could even sort of wrap myself in the hide for warmth if it ever came to that—though it’s kind of small. For now I’m not in any danger of needing to do that if the weather holds though.
As the sinewy texture of raw meat passes reluctantly down my throat, a wave of introspection sweeps over me. What series of missteps had led me to this extreme? Memories of simpler days—of stocked pantries and hearty meals at well-set tables—seem distant as my gaze meanders through the forest around me. Survival has stripped away the complexities of my past life, reducing existence to its most primal form: eat or be eaten, live or die.
I’d always wondered this, given that it’s often remarked on in my books, but there truly is an odd purity to this state, in the way everything only matters in the moment. I look at my blood stained hands and body. The need to keep myself clean is a sidenote to the need to feed myself. I'm eating strips of meat I’ve literally torn out of the rabbits’ body, and I find myself thinking that, in some abstract way, this brutal simplicity is much closer to the essence of life than the world from which I've been stripped away.
With my leg throbbing—a cruel reminder of the consequences of failure—I face a ruthless calculation. The blood from the rabbit is still fresh, and slowly filling the improvised bowl I made out of the rabbits' skin, draining out of the strips of meat stacked on top, a shade of scarlet that seems deeper in the fading light. I’m not exactly sure if the cure won’t be worse than the disease, but just as hunger overpowered my revulsion for raw meat, so too does my parched throat demand I consider what once would have been unthinkable.
I grab a handful of meaty strips and tilt my head, squeezing, letting the smallest amount of blood touch my lips. The taste is immediate and overwhelming – iron, salt, life – a taste that urges my body to reject it.
I’ve swallowed some of my own blood before, but never another's, and certainly not on purpose.
I tense as I expect my gut to react violently. I swallow tentatively, and am almost disappointed by the lack of reaction. There’s a mild urge to vomit, but the feeling is fleeting. I relax a bit, maybe it’s not enough to provoke a strong reaction?
As I keep dribbling blood down my throat, the feeling grows though, and eventually I have to stop for fear I’ll throw it all back up. Most of the blood I could squeeze out is gone at this point though, so I do not consider it a large loss.
Not wanting to waste anything, I keep slowly working my way through the meat until it is all gone. I’m not confident it’d be any more healthy later today or tomorrow. I won’t be going anywhere today, and I’m frankly not certain I’ll survive the night even now.
I lean back against the tree I’ve spent the last few hours under. I reflect back on the past few hours, and feel like it’s bizarre that I’ve gone from nearly giving up on life to slaughtering, stripping and consuming a rabbit in the space of a few hours.
Pretty much every part of my body is covered in some form of blood by now. My right leg which has stopped bleeding at some point while I sat here, is covered in a mix of my own and the rabbits’, but the rest of my body wasn’t spared by the process of stripping the unfortunate animal. I look like I fell in that cannibal blood cellar in the Tomb Raider reboot. My mind can’t help but wisely note that it’s a good thing I’m not wearing any clothes as they’d be completely ruined. At least I can wash this all off. At some point, anyway.
The absurdity of the fact that I can look at myself like this and have the fact I can wash it off be the first think that comes to mind triggers another hysterical laugh, I can’t stop myself, and the giggles and sobs burst out in equal measure. When I manage to get myself under control, I’m feeling utterly exhausted both physically and mentally.
I close my eyes, and allow myself to relax.