Three days before the eleventh expedition into the Land of Solitude began.

Stanley continued to run from the giant gray wall and everything he knew until he could no longer keep running. The land ahead of him never seemed to end and there were no trees or bushes to hide in. The ground was dry and the sun beamed above him. He stopped to catch his breath when he noticed the lack of gunshots coming in his direction. He turned to face the giant wall and noticed the small amount of distance he'd really covered.

The wall stood silent, and not even voices could be heard from it. Above him, large Ashen Ravens, the only bird-life known in the Land of Solitude, circled and echoed their voices. Once he caught his breath, he'd returned to walking away from the wall and into the unknown.

The Land of Solitude stretched out before Stanley, its vast expanse marred by the scars of war. Stanley's eyes keenly scanned the surroundings, observing the twisted remnants of farms, churches, and once-inhabited structures that stood as melancholic testaments to the conflicts that had scarred the land. Craters littered his left and right, with the occasional grass patch giving him a sign of hope. The air was heavy with haunting silence, instilling a sense of loneliness that matched the desolation of the terrain. As he ventured further away from the wall, its immeasurable size began to dwindle under the horizon.

Among the ruins of life and craters abound, Dust Hares darted across the cracked earth, their agile bodies blending seamlessly into the muted palette of the plains. With every step Stanley took, dust clouds formed around his feet, kicking up years-old dirt who'd known nothing but the pains of war. Strong winds blew over the low-rising hills and plains, blowing dirt into Stanley's eyes. The once-fertile soil had turned arid and lifeless, and it had seemed as though even nature itself recoiled from the conflicts that had taken place in years past.

The further into the plains he reached, the more a smell of decay and despair entered Stanley's nose. It was a scent that haunted Stanley, a constant reminder of what took place over these lands decades ago, and his heart ached for the lives lost in the conflict.

His mind then switched to the Men of Gordon. A rumored organization that had been living in the Land of Solitude for a hundred years. If they really exist, Stanley thought, then they'd be out here for sure.

* * *

Stanley traveled the whole day, watching as the sun began to set in front of him, casting long shadows on the earth beneath his feet. Ruins became more common as he'd believed he found an old footpath that he'd begun to follow. Knowing the night would be even more treacherous than the day, he found an old farmhouse, or the skeleton of one, and stepped inside. The door was burnt down and the roof was almost nonexistent. Inside, small, thin rats emerged and rushed out of the building, leaving their nests deserted.

The inside of the farmhouse was a small, one-roomed home with the last remaining parts of decaying wood. On the ground, broken glass and ashes littered the area, and a stone floor showed beneath the overgrown dirt and sand. In one of the corners of the room, Stanley propped himself and sat on the hard ground. The light around him slowly faded, and the lack of a roof gave way to a sight he'd never seen before: the sky showed an infinite amount of stars above him. He'd done his best to stay awake, but the day of travel had caused great sleepiness to come over him, and he closed his eyes.

After an unknown amount of time, Stanley was awoken by a sound he'd not recognized. He quickly stood, his eyes, still adapting to the darkness, not seeing much. The moonlight from above shined faintly through the broken ceiling, giving him some sense of direction. Then, almost as on cue, a low growl rumbled from the shadows, sending a shiver down Stanley's spine. From the darkness emerged two glowing amber eyes.

Entering the structure, the creature appeared to be a large cat-like animal, its muscular build outlining its large figure. It appeared to stand 4 to 5 feet in the air, a body length showing over twice that. Its large claws tugged at the dirt beneath it and its giant teeth showed threw a powerful jaw.

The creature advanced, each step sending tremors through the ground. Stanley's heart raced, and his senses heightened as he braced himself for the imminent confrontation. His breathing became louder and louder as he backed into the wall and began thinking of ways to overcome his enemy.

The animal moved with mesmerizing fluidity, pacing back and forth cautiously as if testing Stanley's resolve. Its eyes, filled with primal intensity, locked onto him, revealing a predator's hunger. Stanley's head suddenly cleared as he combated the panic ensuing in him. Using the limited moonlight given to him, Stanley surveyed the room for any advantage. His eyes fell upon old crates stacked haphazardly against the wall opposite him.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

Stanley bent down and slowly picked a rock up to not startle the creature, and using all his strength, threw the rock at the crates in a desperate attempt to create a diversion. The crates fell upon one another, causing a loud crash that echoed through the stillness of the night.

The creature, momentarily distracted by the sudden noise, turned its attention toward the source of the disruption. Seizing his opportunity, Stanley quietly slipped out of the corner, carefully sliding around the wall to the only exit, holding his hand to his mouth. The doorway without a door. As he made his way to the doorway, he could hear his heart pounding deep in his chest, each step a delicate dance between silence and stealth. The creature, meanwhile, slowly approached the crates with the same careful precision it always moved with.

Just as Stanley reached the doorway, the large cat-like creature's keen senses detected him and lunged forward. Stanley attempted to back up, but tripped over the doorway, falling to the ground. The creature's large jaws snapped at where his head was previously, narrowly missing him, but its claws dug into his shoulder, causing a scream of pain to come from him. Stanley, without any hesitation, attempted to create another diversion by ripping the ripped sleeve off his shirt and, in a swift motion, tossing it to the other side of the room. The animal, compelled by its hunting instincts, redirected its attention to the sudden movement, its predatory focus shifting momentarily.

Seizing another lucky opportunity, Stanley rose to his feet, gripping his bleeding shoulder, and slipped through the doorway, his movements swift and deliberate. The creature noticed his escape and pounced at him. Stanley quickly dodged this attack by slipping around the doorway to the outside wall. As the creature began looking for him, he grabbed the wall and began to climb it. The animal heard the noise of the stone wall breaking beneath Stanley's weight and began running at the wall.

Reaching the broken roof, Stanley's eyes focused on a decaying wood beam. With a surge of hope, he reached for it and turned to face the large figure, who'd climbed the wall with ease. As the creature closed in, Stanley's heart raced, his mind focusing on surviving the night and away from his shoulder. He waited for the opportune moment, his senses attuned to the creature's movements. With a burst of adrenaline, he swung the wooden beam with all his strength, aiming for its head, the creature pouncing the instant he moved.

The sound of impact echoed into the night, a resounding thud that proved his swing powerful. The creature's head snapped to the side, its jaws snapping shut with a painful yelp, and its body fell limp to the ground.

At that moment, a surge of exhilaration surged through Stanley's veins, his heart pounding with a mixture of triumph and relief. The creature's eyes seemed to find their bearings once again, and it rose to its feet. As it rose, however, it staggered, its once-coordinated movements faltering. Disoriented, it stumbled and fell backward off the roof.

Stanley's moment of adrenaline continued, as he jumped from the roof swiftly, landing with no injury, and delivered a rapid succession of strikes to the head with his beam, each blow finding its mark with unyielding precision. The sound of impact mingled with the creature's growls of pain and frustration, creating a symphony of desperation in the dimly lit farmhouse.

Finally, as the creature's breath weakened, Stanley summoned all his remaining strength for one final, decisive blow. The beam descended on the creature's body with resounding force, driving the last of what little will it had to survive.

Breathing heavily, Stanley stood above the creature, noting its large legs and imposing jaw. He sat beside the creature and felt its rough fur. There was no breathing, no heartbeat, no movement from this once imposing figure. He reached over and grabbed the sleeve he ripped off minutes ago, wrapping it around his shoulder to stop the bleeding. Immediately after, he fell to his back and passed out almost instantly.

* * *

Awakening to the sound of Azure Ravens echoing through the plains, Stanley arose in the farmhouse and immediately gained his bearings. He looked down at the creature he'd slain the night prior, being able to look at its finer details. The creature had a thick, black fur and two tails. Each of its legs held a large paw at the end with 5 thick claws that never retracted. He felt his shoulder, sending a stark pain to his head. He tried to raise his arm, but it wouldn't go past his head. He stepped out of the farmhouse and ventured out to the path again, heading eastward.

Stanley was starting to feel the lack of water taking its toll on his body. The scorching heat of the Land of Solitude intensified his discomfort, turning his sweat into a constant stream that poured out from his pores. Every step he took became a struggle, his feet sliding across the barren, cracked earth, as if it resisted his presence.

The relentless sun beat down upon him mercilessly, its rays scorching his exposed skin and sapping his energy. Stanley's throat felt parched, his tongue dry and swollen. He longed for a sip of cool, refreshing water to quench his thirst and provide relief to his dehydrated body. With each labored breath, he pressed onward, driven by an unwavering determination to survive. The vast expanse of the desolate plain seemed endless, stretching out before him like a desert of desolation. The Land of Solitude lived up to its name, with no signs of life or respite in sight.

Just when Stanley's body threatened to succumb to the harsh conditions, his weary eyes caught sight of something in the distance. Squinting against the blinding sun, he saw the faint outlines of crumbling structures, a village reduced to mere remnants by the ravages of war. He picked up his pace and ventured towards the destroyed town.