The forest seemed endless, its dense canopy casting the world beneath it in a perpetual twilight. The path, if it could even be called that, was nothing more than a rough trail cut into the earth by travelers long past. Yet, despite the arduous journey, something about the wilderness seemed alive—breathing, watching, waiting.
I had spent the better part of the day traveling, though time itself felt warped in the quiet, undisturbed woods. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, and the air was beginning to cool. Every rustling branch, every shift in the wind, felt like an echo of the wild world around me, its creatures and forces silently circling, aware of my every move.
I had learned quickly that survival in these woods was more than just walking. It was about patience—listening, observing, and responding with precision. The animals here were quick and cunning, and I could feel their eyes on me, tracking my every step.
I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.
With the wolves behind me and the woman gone, I had pressed on, using the map to guide me. Every so often, I would stop to take stock of my surroundings. The map was proving useful, though it was still hard for me to make sense of the places marked on it. Everything felt so unfamiliar, so far from home.
As the hours passed, the hunger in my stomach grew more noticeable. I hadn't eaten since morning, and the faint rumble in my belly reminded me of how unprepared I truly was. I hadn't thought to bring food—just a few coins, some spare clothes, and the bare essentials. How foolish I had been.
The forest, however, provided in its own way.
I knelt down near a stream that had appeared in my path, its waters clear and cold. A handful of smooth stones lined the edge, and I could hear the faint buzz of insects in the air. For a moment, I simply watched the water, lost in its rhythm, before remembering something important.
I had to find food.
The map had shown a small settlement a day's journey ahead, but until then, I had to rely on the resources around me. I wasn't a skilled hunter—at least, not yet—but I had learned enough to know that the woods held its own secrets.
After searching the area, I found a few wild berries growing on a bush near the stream. I didn't know much about which plants were safe to eat, but I had seen villagers forage before. Carefully, I plucked a handful, inspecting each berry closely before bringing one to my lips. The taste was sweet, the juice refreshing against the dryness of my throat.
Still, the berries weren't enough to stave off the hunger gnawing at my insides. As I stood up and prepared to move on, a faint rustling caught my attention. I froze, every sense alert.
There it was again—movement in the trees.
I instinctively reached for the dagger at my side, my fingers brushing the hilt. The sound was close, too close for comfort. I needed to be ready.
With a slow, cautious step, I turned to face the source of the sound. The underbrush shifted, and then, to my surprise, a small rabbit darted from the bushes, its ears twitching as it bolted across the clearing. My heart raced as I instinctively crouched, my hands already working their way into the earth beneath me.
In an instant, the ground shuddered. A jagged root shot up from the ground, wrapping around the rabbit's legs, pinning it to the dirt. It struggled, but the root held fast, and I moved swiftly, using the dagger to finish what I had started.
The task was quick, but the taste of victory was bitter. I wasn't used to this. The wilds were harsh, and they demanded respect, but at least I was surviving. At least I had food for the night.
I sat down beside the stream and began to roast the rabbit over a small fire I'd managed to start using dry twigs and flint. The crackling of the fire was the only sound in the otherwise still forest, and I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of solitude.
The sky above me had deepened into twilight, the first stars appearing in the growing darkness. I had come so far already, yet it felt as though I had just begun. I hadn't even reached Emberforge Academy yet. The journey ahead loomed over me like a mountain, its peak hidden by clouds of uncertainty. But despite that, something within me stirred—a quiet confidence, a quiet certainty.
I had no memory of my past. No idea where I had come from or why I was here. But as I sat by the fire, the flickering flames casting shadows around me, I realized something. This was my story now. My journey, my choices, my destiny.
The fire crackled as I ate in silence, the taste of the rabbit rich and salty. I finished my meal and leaned back against a tree, the cool night air brushing against my skin. The ground beneath me felt solid, familiar. The earth was the one constant I could rely on, and it gave me strength.
As the night deepened, I pulled my cloak tighter around me, preparing for sleep. My thoughts wandered, drifting back to Mira's words, to the strange woman who had helped me, and to the wolves that had almost killed me. I had fought and survived, but what would tomorrow bring?
Would the road to Emberforge be any less dangerous?
Would I find the answers I was searching for?
I closed my eyes and let the quiet of the forest lull me into sleep. Tomorrow would come soon enough, and with it, new challenges, new lessons, and perhaps even a new und
erstanding of who—or what—I was meant to be.
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