The first thing to look for was water. Marshmallow did not doubt it. He'd been wandering through the Ashenwood undergrowth for half an hour now, but he hadn't found a thing. This damned forest was a relentless repetition: ashen mist, conifers, and oaks. Ashen mist, conifers, and oaks.
The sky over Ashenwood was turning a reddish hue, signaling that sunset was approaching. So the game of Survivor had a day-night cycle? The trees around him seemed too dry, and waterways were a luxury not afforded in a place like this. Then he had an idea.
"Dew," Marshmallow said. "I must find a way to collect dew. But how?"
Marshmallow had noticed that the ashen mist that pervaded the forest contributed to an abundance of dew, probably because the suspended particles made it easier for the moisture in the air to condense.
Suddenly a memory flashed through his mind. He remembered when he was a soldier and a veteran had told him about surviving for days in the desert by collecting dew with pieces of cloth. "Every drop can make a difference." The veteran had said. "Especially when you don't know where the next one is coming from.
Then Marshmallow looked at the leaves around him and chose a large, flat one. "This might work." He thought. He carefully peeled the leaf off the tree, avoiding any damage, and began to fold the edges upwards, shaping it into a small bowl.
Next, he looked for a slightly sloping spot on the ground and placed the small bowl on that slope so that any dew that collected could run off and collect in the center of the leaf. To ensure that the leaf retained its bowl shape, Marshmallow took a small stone and placed it underneath to act as a support.
“Hope this works.” Marshmallow sighed. There was also the issue of the ash. Would what he collected be water and ash? In that case, he would also need to filter it.
“I already know how!” He said to himself. He would take another large leaf, make a multitude of holes, and then filter it. Easy peasy!
It was only a few seconds later that Marshmallow heard a rustling from the bushes. He turned around: it was a goat staring at him a few meters away. He couldn't believe it. He had water? Now he also had his potential dinner. The goat seemed nervous, ears erect, and eyes alert. “Baa!” the animal bleated, almost as if warning Marshmallow to stay away.
With stealthy movements, Marshmallow drew the knife from his belt. He remembered the hunting lessons he had received in training: “Aim for the torso, where you have a higher chance of hitting a vital organ.” He had been taught. Concealing the weapon from the prey, Marshmallow took a deep breath, calculated the distance, and threw the knife.
WHACK!
The throw didn't go as planned. After all, it was a folding knife, not meant for throwing. However, luck was on his side. The blade had stuck in the rear part of the goat, near the thigh.
The goat bleated shrilly. It promptly started to run, and the wound was rather superficial but enough to slow the animal down. Without wasting another second, Marshmallow sprinted towards the goat, clutching the nailed board in his hands. When he got close enough, he delivered a targeted and powerful blow to the animal's nape.
“BAA-AAAARGH!”
With a final moan, the goat collapsed to the ground, lifeless.
Marshmallow paused for a moment, looking at the animal on the ground. He didn't exactly feel great about the sight. Killing a goat in cold blood wasn't precisely how he wanted to spend his life, but it was a freaking video game, right? Yet, it felt so real.
"It's the law of survival." He said, trying to justify his act.
Goat killed!
+ 1 Exp
"Uh, lucky me," Marshmallow muttered to himself. "Only 99 more to level up."
Now came the task of gutting it. He knew how it was done. He began to clean the goat with the folding knife, removing the fur and entrails, leaving only the edible meat. Then he would light a fire.
The night was falling. Marshmallow knelt beside the lifeless body of the goat, cleaned the folding knife on his shirt, and then plunged it into the animal's belly. He removed the entrails, and just as he was about to remove the heart, he felt a beat. A thick, cold pulse.
He jerked back suddenly as cold sweat ran down his back. "My God, what's happening?!" He shouted. He stepped back and abruptly everything changed. Night suddenly fell.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
With a terrible crack, the goat's head turned at an unnatural angle, staring at Marshmallow with lifeless eyes as a black, sticky liquid began to ooze from its mouth. The horns grew in a spiral, sharpening like blades. The animal screamed with a sound somewhere between a dying moan and nails on a chalkboard. There was barely a beating heart inside, but it was enough to make the goat rise awkwardly and erratically. In an instant, the animal was pouncing on Marshmallow. It had become noticeably faster, and in its charge, Marshmallow tried to dodge, but one of its horns grazed his arm, tearing the skin and staining the ground red.
"What the hell has it become?!" Marshmallow exclaimed. The wound was superficial, but it hurt. Quickly, he firmly grasped his nailed board again.
The no-longer-dead goat was a few steps from Marshmallow. It growled, ready to pounce on him again as it scraped its fang on the underbrush and charged once more.
The animal had leaped again, but this time Marshmallow was ready. With adrenaline coursing through his veins and a cry of challenge, he overcame his fear and, like a baseball bat swing, hit the monstrous animal square in the face, making the nails penetrate deep into its flesh. At that speed, only a mush remained of the goat's head, which again collapsed to the ground, this time forever.
Zombie Goat killed!
+ 5 Exp
“Only five points? You've got to be kidding me!” Marshmallow muttered to himself, eyeing the meager score he had earned. He had nearly died and all he got was 5 experience points?
It seemed that Ashenwood's night transformed harmless animals into nightmarish creatures. “No dinner tonight.” Marshmallow declared. He certainly didn't feel like eating such a monster anymore, even if it was just data. Whoever programmed this stuff had to be an absolute genius, Marshmallow truly felt like he had been thrust into a horror movie! The realism with which the goat had transformed into a zombified version of itself had impressed him. Now, the priority was finding a safe place to take refuge.
However, Marshmallow hardly had time to think about what to do next when he suddenly heard a cacophonous wailing growing in volume from... all directions. One by one, from the ashy fog, the glassy eyes of a multitude of zombie goats began to appear.
“Damn it, I’m screwed!” Marshmallow burst into a panic, frantically scanning his surroundings for an escape route as he was surrounded. What was happening all of a sudden?
The ashy fog was so thick that Marshmallow could barely see the dark figures rising. The zombie goats were about to close in on him.
If only I had some fire…
He suddenly remembered stories about zombies, and how they feared fire. If he had a burning torch, maybe he could have carved a path for himself. And goats aren’t particularly scared of anything.
“Think... Think!”
He looked around. He saw a small gap between the zombie goats.
“Should I throw myself in there? I could try to escape through that gap. But even if I managed to flee, they would all be on my heels.”
Marshmallow didn't know what to do when suddenly, noises and distant shouts grew louder. At a certain point, hidden in the thick fog, a loud voice was heard:
“Bring it on, brainless zombies! I’ll kick your asses until you rise like normal goats again!”
Out of the mist leaped a man with a face covered in tattoos and biceps that would have made even the most muscular bodybuilder jealous. He brandished a large metal baseball bat and entered the scene, swinging it left and right at any goats within reach.
"Wow!" Marshmallow muttered in amazement. This guy seemed to have been born to beat those zombie goats. Where did such an absurd character come from? He must be of high rank. He swung his weapon as if it were a toothpick, but it was obvious that it was not light at all.
However, Marshmallow, well-versed in the art of combat, quickly realized that the individual in question wasn’t particularly skilled in brawls. He was hitting the goats without any logical strategy, just a wild, unbridled fury. He was killing many, but gradually, their number seemed to be growing.
Marshmallow was left free because all the zombie goats had gone to attack the newcomer en masse, so he could see the situation from a tactical viewpoint. In a minute or two, the guy would be surrounded. At that point, even that muscular mass wouldn’t be able to stop them.
“I have to do something!” Marshmallow thought. His brain began to work at 200% until he remembered that he now could prepare a calculated counteroffensive. He had a backpack with useful things inside. Immediately, his mind focused on one word.
“FIRE!”
Marshmallow looked at the ground; there were branches and twigs everywhere. Quickly, he picked up a robust, straight branch as long as a baseball bat. Nearby, he spotted a pile of dry underbrush. Decisively, he took the pile of underbrush and wrapped it tightly around the tip of the branch. These dry underbrushes would be perfect for starting a fire.
From his backpack, he pulled out the bandages from the first-aid kit, which he used to secure and keep the underbrush tied to the tip of the branch, ensuring they were firmly attached and wouldn't crumble. Then he struck a match, scraping its head against the side of the box, igniting a small flame. With a steady hand, he brought the lit match close to the underbrush.
“Come on... hurry up!” Marshmallow exclaimed anxiously, and in a few seconds, the tip of the branch was enveloped in flames, transforming it into a rudimentary torch.
Marshmallow plunged into the fray, and at the sight of the fire, the zombie goats instinctively backed off. He grabbed the guy's hand and yelled, “Let's get out of here!” The guy followed him without hesitation. As they ran, Marshmallow shouted without slowing down. “Who the hell are you?!”
“I'm SonicEcho! Don't you recognize me? Don’t you remember the revolt in the cube?” He replied with a slightly mocking tone as if he enjoyed a certain notoriety.
“No. Should I?” Marshmallow began, but a sinister moo cut him off.
SonicEcho cast a furtive glance backward, his face pale. “Let's drop it for now. Keep running and don't look back. They're increasing!”
Behind them, the sound of hooves intensified as more zombie goats joined the chase, making the situation increasingly critical.