In. The water trailed up the shoreline, bnketing the smooth sand in turquoise and briny ocean foam. Out. It retreated soon afterwards, leaving nothing but damp, bckened sand in its wake. The cycle continued on, the sound of the waves hitting the shore a rhythmic beat.

  Yet my body responded just as fast. My eyes clenched hard, an empty rumble gurgling from my belly. In the next moment, attempting to wet my lips, I found there was nothing but a bone-dry tongue left. Even if clean, fresh water appeared right in front of me, would it be too te? There was only one way to find out…

  The world entered in a rush of blinding light, my eyes closing just as fast until I saw nothing but the inner-red of my eyelids. One hand found purchase against the muddy sand, and then the other soon after. My legs pushed until they rested on their knees. Before anything could even begin, water released from the front of my clothes like a dam bursting. It fell in one swoop until it left nothing but soggy cloth. It clung to my stomach, the warmth of the liquid slowly turning cold against my skin.

  Back on track, the coarseness of my fingers mixed with the wet sand still clinging to them as they forced open my eyes. They fluttered at the rush of light, but they could not stem the tide for long. The light darkened, and darkened, and then darkened some more until the light became manageable enough that my eyelids no longer fluttered.

  My stomach sounded like an angry beast growling, baring its fangs and cws. Looking down, my light blue clothes were soaked to navy blue. I tightened my belt, no other option avaible at the moment. My legs wobbled as they were forced into a stand, my arms fring out in the case of a slip.

  Then a single tinkle of light flittering through the sky, leaving a long streak of deep blue behind it, caught my attention. It came from behind my back, or north presumably, heading down south until it hid behind the treeline just ahead.

  I turned in the wet mud, taking a few steps onto dry nd right before the waves came rushing back in. Over the horizon was a sight most unfamiliar. A dazzling spectrum of lights just barely came from above the edge of the world, most dying out in the far distance. A few, however, broke their binds and reached far to the ends of sight, even less shooting south.

  That incessant grumbling returned, forcing to shake my head like an old man cursing everything new in the world. There was no time to waste watching pretty little things over the horizon. Food and water came first.

  Although turning around was not all for naught. A tiny vessel, nothing more than a fishing boat, id on the pcid seas. Perhaps even more importantly, they were human! The men themselves were too far out, their gazes drawn towards the northern spectacle. Yet, the presence of people always meant a settlement any sort id nearby. The question became in which direction was it?

  East and west brought nothing but an endless line of beach and forest of trees I did not recognize. They appeared to be akin to great big willow trees, each one packed to the brim as though leaving an vrentra a space would spell ruin for them. They were greener, lusher, with dew still dripping on them and a constant fog permeating the parts of the forest that hadn’t been completely covered by foliage and bark.

  Gazing back at the ship, it faced eastward. Under the assumption that meant they came from the west, and with a great leap of faith, I headed from whence they came down the coast. A bit difficult to tell from so far away, it seemed as though the nd fell off in the distance, heading straight south or perhaps even looping back east. If I got lucky, then it was a harbor for that settlement.

  My limbs despised each step, refusing to lift without direct commands. Each footstep had to be said in my mind before they dragged forwards. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. Even so, a dual furrow trailed behind me, my legs only able to push forwards.

  The initial haze lifted, the stunted feelings of thirst and hunger coming forth in heavy blows. My mouth hung open, the hot, humid air breathing in and out. Water clung to the tip of my tongue, yet it refused to do any more for it. The heat only reminded me how stale my tongue felt. I could hardly move it, feeling more like cy left to dry out in the sun.

  The end of the shore neared with every step, but it did so not fast enough. It reminded me of waiting for the ship bells to ring, counting every second until someone else had to take my shift. I would’ve ughed if my lungs weren’t huffing and puffing.

  Then my hands shot to my stomach, my face clenching until my eyes closed. The world came to a stop, feet stuttering before stilling against the smooth sand. This was what the sves felt after we punished them? No wonder it was so effective. After another moment, my feet began to trudge again. Only moving forwards would get rid of it.

  The trees to the left started to give way with each step, nothing but death able to pull me down. The trunks thinned once more, glimpses of civilization opening through the cracks. Then, as the final beam of wood cleared out to the harbor, my eyes opened up. It was not just a settlement, it was a thriving center of power.

  A massive keep loomed in the distance. It had a stone foundation, keeping it from being flooded by the moat ringing it. The keep used three different colored bricks. White made the interior of the keep, red lined the edges, while bck tipped the battlements. It was almost like a fox…

  I jumped into the forest, hiding away from the keep. This was no human settlement! Adrenaline took the gnawing away for a moment, but as always, I started to poke my head out again. Water had to be found soon.

  A sizeable vilge surrounded the moat, working the terraced fields behind it. The folk were human, skin and bones and all. As surmised, foxes ran along, barking orders. Another tower, just barely out of my sight, id at a higher level of the terraces, overlooking the sves. In the bay were three warships at port with a multitude of smaller fishing boats in the bay. A few returned from the outside while others were going out. The harbor was also not that much of a harbor at a second gnce. It was more like Mizdkas punched a hole into the shore and left the gap.

  A crossroads appearing in front of me at the revetions. One path said to steal from them, another had the option to beg and become a sve, the st one led straight into the dense forest, commanding me to forage like an animal. The primal call strengthened at the border of sanity.

  My feet retreated into the forest, the thick mist falling over my face. The wetness coating it no longer became just sweat. My arm wiped it off, now both my arm and forehead feeling wet. My mind acted without thought, licking before recoiling at the taste of salt. I might as well have drunk ocean water.

  My feet moved along, dragging until I met the terraces. My original pn had been to steal crops and gain moisture from that, but what I found was even better. The terraces formed long ponds all across the miniature pteaus.

  Again I moved without thinking, dropping to each knee before my hands cupped the water. The water was completely opaque, murky and brown from the dirt it held. Yet each dirty drop meant survival. Without ceremony, I closed my eyes before tasting the water. It was enough to gag on, wetting only my tongue before spitting it straight back out. The next gulp went down more smoothly, this gag coming half from the sheer ck of wetness in my throat. The dryness made the muscles stiff, unable to shove the water down correctly.

  With thirst satisfied for now, my gaze turned towards the crops. They seemed to be some type of grain, with long stalks growing. They didn’t look mature yet, though eating oats outright was not the best decision either. Perhaps a few animals mucked about for me to poach? I knew foxes did eat berries and the like, but so too did they like their meat. They must’ve had something around. The forest should’ve had some life too.

  With water demand met for the foreseeable future, and a retreat back into the foliage, there was some time to start thinking about what was the better option. The growling lessened as well, the muddy liquid tricking my mind into thinking there was food.

  First and foremost, meat at the moment turned out to be the best option. Unless there was an orchard around and or other more ‘on demand’ types of pnts growing, meat became the most plentiful choice. Secondly, wild pnts tended to be more poisonous than animals. Especially in foreign nds, there was almost no way to know. Thirdly, intuition told me those farmed animals weren’t going to be in an easy to access location. That left one choice, one with no more skirting around the truth. I had to go out and hunt.

  Immediately, I took a few more drinks of the dipidated water. I let the water drip through my fingers to see if it would filter out and then lifted up my celvain in an attempt to filter it through the fabric. The problem became trying to hold up the fabric with one hand while simultaneously scooping water in and then capturing it after it fell through.

  My footsteps retreated in wet splotches, the nd so close to the brimming terraces soaked through with water. The mud there drenched my ankles and trailed up the shin. The ground in the forest hardened, if only to a manageable point. My feet missed the smooth, sifting sands of the shore already.

  My hands moved, drawing my sword from its sheath before the longest, groaning sigh followed. Accompanying it were hunched shoulders, a frown, and furrowed brows so deep my forehead almost looked like a funnel. It dripped with water, the metal only avoiding further corrosion by being so thoroughly drenched in the ocean waves. The sheath went bottom-up, jostling and turning as each stubborn drop added to the soaked floor. I then pinched the fabric of my clothes over the bde, the only thing dry enough for leagues. The metal still shined good as new. Hopefully it cut good as new…

  Something like grasshoppers began to chirp in the distance of the forest, a rhythmic sound that went on and on. Soon it came from another direction, and then another. The brush thickened, painting dew against my face and hands with each one passed.

  A bird cried out in the distance.

  I dropped to the floor, huddling up against a tall, straight beam. The vines spread out in front, casting a natural cover of protection against any Foltian hunters. My breathing ceased, each second causing my heart to beat harder against my chest until it felt as though it hammered in every part of my body. Each hand clenched, one around itself and the other around the hilt of my sword.

  Then release. My breath came in as a shaky gasp, each one slowly settling my heart. Foltians didn’t use squawks. They used words. A bird called again, but it was no Foltian call. It was naught but a taste of their nguage, but those two captains squabbling with each other gave me an idea of how they spoke. The hunt was back on.

  Only a few tabrins off from the tree, my feet stopped in their tracks. A gigantic snake slithered about the canopy, its bck-red body resting on the branches as its head made a nguid dance back and forth. The problem was, of course, the fact it rested in the canopy some distance away from the ground.

  Thinking quickly, I scurried back off to a fallen tree my feet had crawled over. This time, they crawled beside it, eyes scanning the trunk for suitable branches. Each one was marked by a stripped branch, the dead wood at the ends cracking easily. With a good amount chosen, the next step began.

  Before it could begin, a long wail echoed from my stomach. My tone, hushed, yelled at it. “Silence! I’m working on it!” Next it let out a jolt of pain, enough to hunch me over and scrunch up my face again.

  After my stomach was finished bemoaning over its hunger, work restarted. Jumping on the bases of some of the branches proved enough to break them. However, for some, the environment was far too wet and kept them stronger than usual. Those ones had to be left, the sharpness of my bde more important than attempting some impromptu sawing.

  With ten sizeable branches, I gathered them up and dragged them over to the ‘willow’ tree from earlier. Given how tall and straight their trunks grew, the new name of these trees became fiteret (fite-ret), or straight-vines. It was better than calling them ‘willows’ or ‘trees’ over and over.

  At the fiteret, the process of stripping every twig and branch off the rger branches started. By the end of it, my back groaned from crouching and bending over all day. The work hadn’t even been too strenuous, my arms and legs still strong, or at least as strong as they could be.

  Thus, after all that work, the final, longest branch id still full of twigs on the ground. This one only had its leaves removed for better visibility and a grip at the bottom. Lighter than before, I heaved them over towards where that snake slithered. Echoing for food, my stomach practically felt the snake in its grasp. First came the hunt. Next came dining.