Food and shelter

The glow in Óttarr's hands dimmed further as he moved cautiously away from the pool, its otherworldly light fading into the misty gloom of the forest. The hum in the air persisted, but it seemed to have receded into the background, no longer pressing on his mind. He took a steadying breath, forcing his focus onto the immediate problem at hand: survival.

The encounter with the Raincaller had left him shaken and awestruck, but awe alone wouldn't keep him alive. The forest was alive, vibrant, and mysterious—but it was also relentless and indifferent. The cold rain still soaked through his clothes, and his stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since… when? Hours? Days? Time itself felt twisted in this place.

Óttarr glanced around, the forest seeming even denser now, as though the trees had grown closer together. Their bark shimmered faintly, pulsing with the same blue-green glow as the pool. Strange vines spiraled down from the canopy above, some glowing softly, others emitting a faint bioluminescent mist. Despite the eerie beauty of it all, Óttarr couldn't shake the thought that this place might kill him if he wasn't careful.

His eyes caught on a cluster of massive fungi growing at the base of a tree. The caps were a deep blue, flecked with silvery-white spots, and the edges curled upward slightly, revealing pale undersides. They almost looked edible, but he hesitated. What if they were poisonous? He crouched down and tore off a small piece, holding it to his nose. It smelled earthy and faintly sweet, but the way it shimmered in the faint light made him second-guess.

As if sensing his uncertainty, a small creature darted into view—a rodent-like animal with six legs and fur that gleamed like polished metal. It sniffed at the fungi, then tore off a chunk and scurried away, chewing vigorously. Óttarr let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. If it was safe for them, it might be safe for him too.

Cautiously, he took a small bite. The texture was spongy, and the flavor was surprisingly mild, with a hint of sweetness that reminded him of honey. He waited, heart pounding, to see if his body would react. Minutes passed, and nothing happened—no burning sensation, no dizziness. Encouraged, he gathered more, tucking them into his jacket pocket for later.

Finding shelter was his next challenge. The rain had lightened to a drizzle, but the dampness clung to him, seeping into his bones. He scanned the forest, looking for anything that might provide cover. The towering trees were too smooth to climb, their bark almost glass-like, and the dense foliage above offered little protection from the rain.

Eventually, he spotted an overhang of moss-covered stone jutting out from a nearby hillside. It wasn't much, but it would keep the rain off and provide a defensible position if anything decided to approach during the night. Óttarr hurried toward it, his boots squelching in the soft earth.

The hollow beneath the overhang was larger than it had appeared from a distance, forming a shallow cave. Strange, luminescent moss lined the walls, casting a faint, soothing light. He ran his fingers over it, finding it soft and cool to the touch. It seemed harmless enough, and for now, he had no choice but to trust it.

Gathering a few fallen branches and the driest leaves he could find, Óttarr managed to construct a small, makeshift bed. It wasn't comfortable, but it was better than sleeping on the bare, damp ground. He sat back, chewing another piece of the fungi, and let the tension in his shoulders ease just a little.

The forest hummed softly around him, its ever-present rhythm a strange kind of comfort now. He stared at his glowing hands, the faint patterns still visible beneath his skin. Whatever the Raincaller had done to him, it had marked him as part of this place.

For better or worse, this forest was his home now.

As exhaustion began to weigh on him, Óttarr's thoughts turned to the mysteries still ahead: the Raincaller's message, the glowing pool, and the forest itself. Answers would come in time, he was sure of it. But for now, all he could do was survive, one step at a time.

His eyes drifted closed, the gentle hum of the forest lulling him to sleep.