Chapter Eight

> As you leave the Library behind you, you break into a run
> You need to get as far away as possible before she discovers you’re gone
> Despite the situation, you can’t keep your face from splitting into a wide grin
> It felt good to run, to be able to move freely once again
> You breathe in fresh, cool night air as it blows against your face
> Inside your chest you feel that familiar warmth, that precious feeling of power of capability you lacked these past days returns
> Free, free, FREE! You were finally free!
> You plan and doing everything you can intend to keep it that way
>And that started with getting out here
> You took stock of your surroundings as you sprinted through the empty streets, lit only by the occasional lamppost
> You were in a small town, or a village by the look of it
> The buildings were quaint and cozy, with simple wooden exteriors and thatched roofs
> Although some of the building’s you passed looked strange, almost comical
> One resembled a massive merry- go-round, while another looked like a giant gingerbread house
> Eventually the buildings come to an end, and you find yourself running along a dirt path
> You realize you should get off the road.  You were lucky you didn’t pass any p0nies while in town, but that wouldn’t last forever
> Deciding this is as good a spot as any, you vault over a nearby rail wood fence, entering an apple orchard
> The lights of the village have faded into the distance, the only illumination comes from the full moon, casting everything in a pale white light.
> You continue running as you weave between the trees
> At the other end of the orchard, you leap over another fence, entering a natural forest
> You’re forced to slow down as you work your way through the foliage
> Most would be uncomfortable running through a forest at night, but not you
> The woods are like a second home to you. You’ve spent your entire life hunting and camping in the forests near your home
> You feel safe hidden beneath the canopy of the branches, this is your element, your domain.
> You begin to recognize the familiar sounds of wildlife, the small hooting of owls, mice scurrying in the grass, the distant chorus of frogs.
> You continue your flight throughout the night, climbing hills and crossing ravines, working your way ever deeper into the forest
> You inevitably have to rest. You come to a stop near a small stream as the first rays of dawn begin peeking over the horizon.
> You kneel in the damp grass near the edge of the stream and bring your head down to the surface
> You drink to your heart’s content, feeling the soothing water wash down your raspy throat
> You sit back with a content sigh, bringing your legs up to your chest
> You watch the sun rise into the sky, ushering in a new day
> After a short rest, you feel ready to continue
> You rise to your feet and set off at a leisurely pace
> You must be miles from Twilight by now, no need to rush
> You follow the river upstream, you don’t have anything to carry water in, so you’ll have to stay close
> The forest around you comes to life as the sun rises, birds begin to sing in the trees and squirrels chatter noisily nearby
>  As the sun nears the height of its climb, you come across a low cliff face, about 20 feet in height
> The stream you’ve been following is fed by a pond, formed under a waterfall from the top of the cliff
> Investigating the cliff, you find a large, mostly dry alcove hidden behind the falling water
> You think this would be a pretty good place to make camp, it’s well protected from the elements and hidden from any prying eyes
> It’s high time you started getting set up
> Keeping the cave’s location in mind, you head out along the cliff face
> Eventually, you find what you’re looking for in the debris of a small landslide
> Digging through the small rocks, you produce several pieces of dark flint
> On the way back to the waterfall, you gather an armful of tinder and dry wood
> Striking your steel knife against the flint, you sent sparks into a small pile of bark and wood shavings
> As the sun begins to set, turning the sky into a various shades of red and gold, you sit across a cozy fire, roasting two squirrels over the flames
> You weren’t a fan of squirrel, what little meat they had was stringy and nearly tasteless
> But until you became more familiar with your surroundings, learning the locations of clearings and local game trails, it was the best you could do.
> You stare into the fire, watching the gentle glow of the embers and the dance of the flames
> You feel… good. About what you did
> About what you didn’t do
> It would probably come to bite you in the ass someday, but you’d deal with that later
> It still made you proud though
> You were treated like a monster for so long you nearly became one, but you didn’t give in to yourself
> You were still in control, you still shaped your own fate
> You were still free
>The next morning you exit the cave, arching your back and stretching your arms above your head
> Sleeping on stone wasn’t much of an improvement over wood, but at least you weren’t chained up
> A thin mist weaves between the trees, the silence broken only by the nearby waterfall
> You add some kindling to the smoking remnants of the fire, coaxing the flames back to life from the coals
> After eating what’s left of the two squirrels from last night, you make your way down to the pond for a drink, but stop when you glimpse your reflection is the water
> Holy crap, you looked terrible. Your hair was oily and tangled in a thick mat on your head
> Your face still sported a large bruise from your capture, and your chin was covered in the thin beginnings of a patchy beard
> A quick sniff reminds you that you haven’t bathed or changed clothes in over a week
> You strip down to your boxers and dunk your clothes in the water, using your hands to wash out as much of the smell as possible
> After that’s done, you hang your clothes on a tree to dry before swimming out into the center of the pond
> It felt good to swim, the cool water massaged and loosened the stressed muscles on your back and shoulders
> No matter how much you stretched or tried to relax, your back was still in pain from the cramped position of your imprisonment.
> You hoped there wasn’t any permanent damage
> After a short swim, you begin scrubbing your scalp with your fingers
> Eventually your hair begins to untangle and come loose, flowing freely in the water
> You wish you had some soap, but this will have to do.
> After getting as clean as you reasonably can, you climb out of the water and retrieve your skinning knife
> The large blade is awkward to shave with, and working without a mirror is only going to make things harder.
> You manage to clean off your beard without slicing open your neck, but you still suffered several painful nicks in the process.

> Putting your clothes back on and stringing your bow, you head west into the forest in search of your next meal.
>After a few hours of sneaking and lurking through the foliage, you find suitable prey
> A small rabbit, munching on the thick green grass of a small clearing
> You crouch down, slowly working your way close for an easier shot
> Hunting rabbit was always a delicate operation, you need to put it down cleanly and quickly
> Most people didn’t know it, but rabbits could really scream
> A wounded rabbit would let out a piercing cry of anguish and pain audible for miles, sending every animal in range into hiding for hours, making any further hunting impossible
> The shot had to be perfect
> A twig snaps under your foot
> Oh god dammit
> The hare’s head shoots up, and it’s off running in a flash
“Oh no you don’t you little bastard, I am NOT having squirrel again!”
>You take off, running deeper into the woods after the rabbit
> You chase your quarry for nearly thirty minutes, the scenery slowly changing around you
> It’s almost as if you’ve transitioned from a forest to a jungle
> The ground becomes soggy and muddy, ferns and vines grow more and more prevalent
> The trees are gnarled and twisted, their trunks forming strange visages
> Their branches intertwine into a thick canopy above you, blocking out the sun and producing a claustrophobic environment
> A growing sense of unease forms in your stomach
> This place doesn’t feel right, there’s something subtlety wrong about it.
> But you can’t put your finger on why, the reason drifts on the edge of your subconscious, just barely out of reach
> You push these thoughts out of your mind, you have a rabbit to catch and you’ll be damned if you let it get away.
> You come to a stop as you spy your prey sitting atop mossy log. It doesn’t look like it sees you
> You assume a shooting stance and draw your bow
> You might not hit a vital organ from this distance, but you’ve had enough of this chase, to hell if it screams or not
> You release the arrow, sending it streaking toward you target
> It strikes the rabbit with a loud *CHINK*, the arrow bouncing off harmlessly
“…What?”
>The rabbit just continues sitting there, completely still
> You take a few steps forward, but the rabbit still doesn’t react
> As you get closer, you’re shocked at what you see
> It’s not a rabbit at all, it’s an expertly carved statue, completely lifelike down to the fur
> Perhaps too lifelike…
> oh shit… could it be? No, those don’t exist. They’re just mythical!
> The unease in your stomach solidifies into pure dread as you suddenly realize what’s wrong with these woods
> It’s deathly silent. No bugs, no birds. No noise at all
> Nothing but silence
> You have to get out of here
> You have to get out of here NOW
> You take off at a sprint back to your camp
> As the trees and bushes whizz by, you get the feeling you’re being watched
> Occasionally you hear the rustle of leaves or the snap of a twig as something gives chase
> You press on faster, desperate to get away
> Out of the corner of your eye, you glimpse a patch of dark green scales
> You slam your eyes shut, skidding to a halt
> You can hear the… whatever it is lurking nearby
> You reach over your shoulder, grabbing an arrow and nocking it on the string
> You hear the creature circling you, slithering and hissing softly
> Sweat drips from you brow as you clench your eyes shut, resisting the urge to look, to see what hunts you
> You strain your ears to listen, trying to pinpoint exactly where the creature is
> Your hands grow sweaty and your heart hammers in your chest
> The beast continues to circle you, growing closer with every rotation
> You recall everything your father taught you about blind shooting
>“Relax son, stay calm and don’t try to force it. Trust your instincts and fire when it feels right.”
> You force yourself to take a deep breath, exhaling slowly and willing your nerves to settle
> You relax your muscles, taking a calm position
> You stop straining your ears, trusting your subconscious to sort out the location when the time comes
> You take a few more long, calming breathes, slowing your heartbeat, clearing your mind
> You wait for the perfect moment…
> Now
> You pivot your body, drawing and firing the bow in one fluid motion, allowing years of practice and experience to guide your hands.
> You’re rewarded with a loud *SQUAWK* and the sound of something large thrashing on the ground
> You open your eyes
>The creature is some sort of giant snake, it has small leathery wings and the head of a chicken
> It rolls and writhes on the ground, hissing and squawking in anger, it’s left wing pinned to it’s side by your arrow
> You drop your bow and quickly draw your knife, lunging towards the creature
> You tackle it and try to pin it into the ground, driving the knife deep into it’s neck
> Blood pours from the wound as the creature shrieks in pain
> It’s body writhes and rolls under you, trying to shake you off
> You hold tight, it’s movements becoming weak and sluggish as blood loss begins to kick in
> Eventually it stops moving and you rise to your feet, your hands coated in blood
> You’re going to need another bath after this
>That night you sit at the fire, roasting a slab of scaly flesh over the flames as you dig into an already cooked piece
> Kind of tastes like mix between chicken and snake. Not bad
> You suppress as small shudder as you recall the day’s events
> You got lucky today, you won’t last long here if you continue to fight things like that all the time
> Lesson learned. Do not go west. West is bad. West is very bad