Chapter 10: Into the Forest

Chapter 10: Into the Forest

The forest stretched out on all sides, dense and vibrant, a stark contrast to the sparse, desolate woods of Aeladria. Here, the air was thick with the scent of earth and greenery, and sunlight filtered through the canopy in golden patches. Birds chittered in the trees, their calls a strange comfort after the chaos of war.

Buck rode silently beside me, his usual chatter absent for once. I could tell he had questions, who wouldn't?, but he seemed to understand that survival came first. Eventually, we came across a cave nestled at the base of a rocky incline. It wasn't much, barely large enough for the two of us, but it was shelter. Shelter meant safety, or at least, the illusion of it.

I dismounted, my body aching in ways I couldn't put into words. "We'll stay here for the night," I said, more to myself than to Buck. He nodded, already pulling out his bow. "I'll find us something to eat." I watched him disappear into the trees, his movements surprisingly quiet for someone of his size. Alone now, I drew my blade and set to work. Nature waited for no one, and neither could I.

The battles had changed me in ways I still struggled to understand. My strength, now beyond that of an orc, often startled even me. With one clean swing of my sword, I felled a tree nearly a foot wide. The crash of its fall echoed through the forest like a cannon blast. Dragging the massive trunk back to the cave was almost effortless. The tree must have weighed over three thousand pounds, yet I hoisted it onto my shoulder and hauled it through the underbrush, its branches snapping against the ground.

At the cave entrance, I stripped the branches with quick, efficient strokes, then set about cutting the trunk into smaller chunks. The work was methodical, almost meditative, and I vaguely remembered seeing something similar in a nature documentary back on Earth. The memory felt distant, almost dreamlike. As I stacked the wood in a rough cone shape, arranging the smaller, more flammable pieces in the center, I paused. The forest had gone oddly quiet. No birds. No distant rustles. Just the faint whisper of the wind through the trees.

The silence made the back of my neck prickle, but I shoved the feeling aside. There was work to do. The next problem came quickly enough: how the hell was I supposed to light this thing? The memory came suddenly, unbidden; the war against the gnolls. The clash of steel on steel often sparked fiery bursts. Small, fleeting, but enough to start a flame if aimed right.

I unslung my shield and placed it near the woodpile. Its surface was already marred by scratches and dents from the Zarathid assault. With a deep breath, I struck the shield with my sword. Sparks flew, more than I expected, and after a few tries, the kindling caught. Flames licked hungrily at the wood, growing into a steady fire. But the shield was ruined, split clean in two. I stared at it for a moment, feeling a pang of frustration. My strength was becoming a liability. Everything I touched seemed to break under the sheer force I now wielded.

"Cassian! I've brought a gift," Buck's voice rang out as he reappeared from the woods, cheerful as ever. I turned to see him hauling a creature across his shoulders. It was deerlike but alien in its form. Its body was larger, its fur a mottled gray that shimmered faintly in the firelight. Three jagged horns jutted from its head, and six slender legs ended in cloven hooves.

"Well, that's… something," I said, rising to help him.

"Thought you might appreciate it," Buck said, setting the creature down on the cave's floor with a grunt.

I couldn't help but feel a small measure of relief. He wasn't useless after all. But my mind was still focused on survival. Mercy was a luxury I couldn't afford. The next problem hit us as we stared at the lifeless creature.

"How do we… y'know, butcher it?" Buck asked, scratching the back of his head.

I frowned. "No idea."

The closest I'd come to butchering was tearing through gnolls on the battlefield. Hardly a transferable skill. Buck knelt down, inspecting the animal. "Well, we can't eat it like this. Maybe if we—"

"Wait." I crouched beside him, noticing the arrow embedded cleanly between the creature's eyes. It was a perfect shot, precise and deliberate. None of the meat was damaged. I glanced at Buck briefly before turning back to the task. The placement of the shot lingered in my mind. Too clean. Too perfect. Buck had always seemed competent but unremarkable in battle. Was this luck, or had he been hiding his true abilities?

We managed to skin the creature and carve out what we hoped were the edible parts, though it was a messy, trial-and-error process. The meat was tough but flavorful, and the fire did its job, cooking it to a charred perfection that filled the cave with an earthy aroma.

After eating, we arranged ourselves on the stone floor of the cave. It was cold and unforgiving, but exhaustion weighed heavily on us.

Buck stretched out on one side, his bow within arm's reach. "Y'know," he said, his voice light, "for all the crap we've been through, this isn't the worst place we've had to sleep."

I didn't respond, too tired to engage. My mind was already slipping into the haze of sleep, my body grateful for the reprieve. The forest outside grew quieter, the nocturnal hum of insects and distant rustles fading into the background as I let my eyes close.

But the peace didn't last. A sudden, shrill noise broke through the stillness, jerking me awake. It took a moment to realize what it was, the sound of our horse, panicking.

I shot upright, instinctively reaching for my blade. Beside me, Buck was already stirring, his hand flying to his bow. Something was out there. And it was close.