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Voyager of the Vast Unknown
Chapter 10: the forrest

Chapter 10: the forrest

The river meandered endlessly, snaking through the vast grasslands with enduring patience. Immanuel and Naia found their rhythm, both with the boat and in their companionship, the repetitive splash of water against the hull creating a steady backdrop to their journey.

As the landscape gradually transformed, the tall grass began to give way to shrubs and the first saplings—pioneers of the coming forest.

The air resonated with the calls and songs of birds, a symphony of the wild that played from dawn until dusk. Birds of iridescent plumage soared above, catching the light in a display of nature’s artistry, while others, with powerful strokes of their wings, cut across the skyline, leaving only the echo of their cries behind.

Immanuel looked out over the changing scenery, the beginning of the forest stirring a sense of anticipation within him.

Naia, energized by the change in scenery, stood up, her eyes scanning the horizon. "The forest is beginning," she said, pointing towards the distance where the trees grew denser.

Immanuel, using a bit of his power to see clearer, confirmed Naia's observation. The outline of the forest was now visible. They had settled into a routine on the river, taking turns at doing the different tasks and using the time in between for personal activities. Immanuel would meditate and experiment with his abilities.

As they drew closer to the forest, the trees grew larger, towering above and casting long shadows over the boat. The size of the trees filled them both with a silent awe. The sounds of the forest enveloped them; distant cries that seemed almost human, the rustling of leaves, and the occasional sight of something moving swiftly through the trees. The river carried them onward, deeper into the forest.

As the boat glided further, the dense canopy above wove together, blotting out large swathes of the sky. Immanuel and Naia became enveloped by the immense trees, the light dimming around them, the air cooling and freshening with the scent of moss and earth. The sounds of the river seemed to hush in reverence to the majesty of the woods, and they were, for a moment, completely swallowed by the embrace of the ancient trees.

As their boat continued its journey, massive roots began to protrude from the banks of the river, twisting and turning like ancient serpents petrified in time. Large ratlike creatures darted from the underbrush, plunging into the murky waters and disappearing between the trees. Naia's grip tightened around Immanuel's hand.

"I feel a bit... like I can't escape," she murmured, her eyes darting to the origins of rustles and splashes around them.

"Do you feel trapped?" Immanuel asked, his voice calm.

She nodded. "I've never been beyond the grasslands. This... closeness, it's unfamiliar."

"It's normal to feel well, whatever it is you’re feeling," Immanuel reassured her as he settled back into a seated position. Naia remained close by his side, she was trying to look every way at once like a security guard on high alert.

Navigating the river grew increasingly difficult as they encountered obstacles. Driftwood bobbed menacingly on the water, and the river itself meandered with more twists and turns, forcing them to duck under sprawling roots that bridged the water like natural aqueducts.

Recognizing the futility of the sail amidst the towering trees that stifled the wind, Immanuel and Naia worked together to lower it. With the sail down and the breeze reduced to a mere whisper, Immanuel took the paddle and began to propel the boat forward with determined strokes.

They continued their journey until the encroaching darkness made it impossible to safely navigate any further. "We sleep here?" Naia's voice held a hint of unease.

"It seems we have no choice," Immanuel replied, peering into the inky blackness where the river merged with the night. "I can't see enough to continue."

Agreeing to moor for the night, Immanuel threw the anchor overboard, feeling it catch hold beneath the water's surface, providing them a stable refuge. He then spread out his hide, a makeshift bed on the floor of the boat. To his surprise, Naia lay down beside him, her body curving against his. The contact was comforting, and Immanuel found himself lying awake for a time, attuned to the symphony of the forest as it transitioned to nocturnal life, a lullaby of rustles, calls, and the lapping of water against their boat.

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The morning greeted them with a chilled, mist-laden air. Immanuel woke to the steady rhythm of Naia's breathing, her warmth a contrast to the nippy dawn. Carefully, so as not to wake her, he rose and used a burst of his core energy to haul up the anchor, which emerged cloaked in river vegetation. He tidied it away and took up the paddle, propelling them forward with soft, measured strokes.

As the sun climbed higher, dispersing the mist, Naia stirred. She opened her eyes to the clearing day, stretched out her limbs, and began a series of exercises to loosen her muscles. They shared a breakfast of the super fruit, after which Naia suggested she take up the second paddle. With a nod from Immanuel, they found a new rhythm together, the boat gliding faster along the river's winding path, deeper into the heart of the forest.

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On their right, solid ground appeared, flush with bushes and speckled with trees bearing unfamiliar fruits. Naia pointed excitedly at one tree in particular, its branches heavy with pinkish, elongated offerings.

"I'm not sure if it's safe to eat those, they might be poisonous" Immanuel voiced his caution. Naia looked at him. "Why would fruits be poisonous?" she questioned, genuinely puzzled by the concept.

Immanuel briefly explained the idea of toxic fruits, but Naia seemed skeptical. "Fruit that isn’t meant to be eaten isn’t really fruit," she stated firmly.

"We'll just have to find out," she decided, her tone making it clear that her curiosity was not to be tamed. They steered their boat towards the inviting shore, and Immanuel couldn't shake off a feeling of unease, the unfamiliar sounds of the forest setting him on edge.

After securing the boat, Naia hopped out, energetic and vigilant. Immanuel followed, gripping his staff and feeling the presence of his sword at his waist, his senses heightened and alert.

Naia appeared surprisingly at ease in the forest, which made Immanuel wonder if she was relying on him for protection, despite her own wilderness upbringing.

They walked over to the tree with the mysterious fruit. "Maybe all fruit is as good as your fruit, unlike what we have on the plains," she said, her face lighting up with a teasing smile. "Maybe everything else is just that delicious everywhere else!"

"Maybe," Immanuel responded, his own smile mirroring hers as they both considered the tantalizing possibility that they were about to taste something delightful.

She plucked one of the fruits and was about to bite when out of nowhere, a red-striped cat-like creature, enormous and ferocious like the saber-toothed tigers of ancient times, materialized as if from thin air. It pounced on Naia's neck with a savage bite. Immanuel, frozen in shock, watched her eyes widen and heard the beginning of a scream that never fully escaped her lips.

The beast yanked and twisted, pulling Naia to the ground. Immanuel heard the sickening crunch of her bones. Core energy surged within him like a star gone nova. His hand ignited with light, his staff mirroring the golden blaze. He leaped forward to strike the beast retreating with Naia's body between them. Despite his efforts, the beast's shakes were short and powerful, expertly keeping its body away from Immanuel's blows.

Fueled by his core he chock turned into rage, "You FUCKING beast!" His tears mixed with his fury as he slapped down with all his might, "I will fucking—"

From the corner of his eye, another striped terror launched itself at him. He felt the weight of it crash into him, its grip like iron jaws on his bones. While he was falling he could see Naia’s head flopping around with dead eyes. He came down hard on the ground. Desperately, he fought back, pounding his energy-charged hand against the beast’s snout. The creature recoiled, giving Immanuel a moment's reprieve.

Panic fueled his muscles as he turned around and sprinted for the boat, his heart pounding in his chest. With a crash, he collided with the vessel, almost capsizing it, but the anchor held. He cast a wild look back at the shore, eyes searching for the beast. It hesitated, wary of the water between them.

In a frenzy, he tore the anchor free, grasping the paddle to propel himself away from the nightmare. "I will come back for you, you filthy fucking beast!" he screamed through tears of grief and anger.

The memory of Naia, her smile about to bite into the fruit, haunted him. It rekindled his fury, fueling his promise. "I will end your whole species!" he yelled, looking back at the creature.

The roots of the green giants loomed ahead, and he narrowly avoided a collision, his movements desperate and fueled by the burning of his core energy, the waters churning violently in the wake of his escape.

He kept paddling until his core was as empty as a forgotten well. And then he continued paddling. Eventually, his tears ceased, and the throbbing in his arm subsided. He pressed on until night enveloped him and he collapsed into a fitful attempt at rest. He tried to shield his mind from thought, but his sorrow seeped through, carrying him on a tide of memories of his wife and child, until sleep finally claimed him.

Dawn arrived, indifferent to his loss. He woke feeling hollow. The forest sounds that filled the morning air seemed distant and uninviting. With determined strokes, he began to paddle again, channeling all his core energy into each movement. His anguish morphed into rage, and he visualized brutal retribution: crushing the beast with his bare hands, tearing it apart with his teeth, swinging it by its tail to smash it against the earth.

As his energy waned, he was left with nothing but emptiness, moving mechanically, a shell operating on instinct. Left, right, left, right—his movements became a monotonous rhythm that carried him through the day and into the arms of another night.