Chapter 11

The river weaved through the trees, its steady trickle the only sound besides my footsteps. It should've been peaceful. A quiet, calming walk through untouched nature. But my thoughts wouldn't stop.

I must've checked my phone a hundred times, but the result never changed—no signal. No connection to anything. Every time the screen loaded, my stomach dropped, and I shoved it back into my pocket, trying to ignore the sickening weight in my chest.

How long have I been gone?

Is El okay?

Where the hell am I?

The questions came in waves, pounding against the walls of my mind, relentless and suffocating. I kept trying to push them down, to force myself to focus on what was in front of me. But the more I walked, the harder it got.

Then my stomach growled, a sharp reminder that ignoring reality wouldn't stop it from affecting me.

I reached into my pocket, fingers brushing against familiar wires. Pulling out my headphones, I slipped them on and tapped play. The moment the music started, a tiny piece of normalcy clicked back into place.

Time slipped by as I found my happy place. Turns out everything was easier when you ignored it.

The river widened the further I walked, the current slowing just enough to see movement beneath the surface. I paused when I saw something jump—quick flashes of silver breaking through the water before vanishing again.

My stomach twisted painfully. I hadn't eaten in… I didn't even know how long. My body felt like it was running on fumes.

I scanned the area and spotted a low-hanging branch. After a few hard tugs, I broke it free and sat down. Using the broken edge of my dagger, I started sharpening one end of the stick.

Once I had a decent point, I moved back to the edge of the river.

I crouched low, eyes locked on the water, watching and waiting. After a few minutes, a small fish swam past. I tracked it, held my breath, and then stabbed down.

The fish darted away, and my spear plunged uselessly into the mud.

"Shit."

Turns out this was a lot harder than it looked. But I've always been stubborn. So I reset. Crouched back down and waited.

After an embarrassing amount of time, and way too many failed attempts, I finally walked away from the river with a small fish stuck on the end of the spear.

The next part was easier.

When I was a kid, Dad used to take me out to the Blue Mountains. We'd camp under the stars. No phones. No city noise. Just trees, fire, and his quiet voice explaining everything.

"See here, bud? What you wanna do is cut a little notch like this." He showed me the stick, carefully carving the wood. "Then you use this bit, and pull and push."

"Now you try."

That memory stayed with me as I worked.

It took longer than I remembered, but eventually I got the tinder to spark. The fire caught slowly, then burned steady, a low warm flame flickering in the shade of the trees.

I set the fish to roast on a couple of angled sticks. The smell wasn't exactly amazing, but it still made my mouth water.

It wasn't much. But it was warm. It was food. And it was a win. I'd take it.

I heard a branch snap behind me. I turned, half expecting trouble.

Instead, it was the fox.

The same one from earlier—small, jet-black, with those sharp yellow eyes locked onto the fish roasting over the fire. It crouched low, trying its best to be sneaky, but it wasn't exactly subtle.

"Get out of here," I said, waving a hand at it.

The fox didn't move. Just tilted its head, ears twitching.

"Go on. Shoo."

It kept staring. Then, I'm pretty sure it narrowed its eyes at me before turning and slipping back into the trees.

Probably just my imagination.

The fish finished cooking soon after. I didn't wait and pulled it off the sticks and tore into it with my hands. It was a little rubbery, a little burnt on one side, but it was food. And after everything I'd been through, it might as well have been five stars.

Another twig snapped.

I glanced up again. The fox had returned, something dangling from its mouth.

It stepped closer, cautious but confident, and dropped its prize in front of me, a small branch of berries, dark red and plump.

Then it looked from the berries to the fish. Then back again.

I raised an eyebrow.

"You're bartering?"

The fox didn't answer, obviously, but it sat down and waited. Watching me. Like it was confident I'd see the logic in the trade.

I looked at the berries, then the half-eaten fish, then back at the fox.

"…Fine."

I slid what was left of the fish toward it and picked up the berries. The fox didn't lunge or grab at the food. Just waited until I started eating the berries, then padded forward, grabbed the fish in its mouth, and backed away into the trees.

"Yeah. Thank you too," I muttered after it.

The berries were tart but edible. I finished them off, brushing the juice off my hands.

Honestly, it was probably the most success I could hope for.

With the fish gone, I snuffed out the fire and rinsed my hands in the river. I checked my phone, the battery was still nearly full. I switched it off to conserve the charge, then slid it back into my pocket.

Then set off again, following the river downstream. It twisted through the trees in lazy, winding curves, guiding me forward like a path carved by nature itself. If there was civilization nearby, it'd likely be somewhere along the water.

I walked for over an hour, maybe more. Then my stomach growled.

Loudly.

I slowed, pressing a hand to my gut. The pain flared sharp and sudden before fading again. I frowned, brushing it off and kept walking.

But it came back. Stronger.

Another rumble. A sharp cramp knotted in my stomach, forcing me to stop. I hunched slightly, gritting my teeth.

Shit.

It only got worse from there.

Five minutes later I was crouched behind a tree, cursing every life decision that had brought me to this exact moment.

My dignity didn't survive that battle and I was glad to put it behind me.

By the time I was back on the trail, my stomach still churned like a storm caught in my gut. I glared at the trees.

"Stupid fox," I muttered, while I continued to walk.

The sun hung high overhead when I heard it, a sharp, pained cry cutting through the forest air.

I ran toward it without thinking, legs pumping, heart hammering in my chest. If someone else was out here, maybe they could tell me where the hell I was. Maybe I wasn't as alone as I thought.

I broke through the treeline and skidded to a stop.

A man slumped against the base of a tree, his face pale, one arm cradled against his chest. In front of him, low to the ground, muscles coiled tight, was something that looked like a bobcat, only leaner, with too-long limbs. Its yellow eyes locked on the man as it crouched, ready to pounce.

I didn't hesitate.

If he was alive, he was my best shot at answers.

I charged, makeshift spear clenched tight in both hands.

The creature's ears flicked back. It turned just as I lunged, twisting with a speed I couldn't match. My spear sliced through empty air.

It dodged.

But I'd gotten its attention.

I charged the beast, and it met me with a lunge. Paws spread wide, claws aimed straight for my shoulders. I shifted right, narrowly dodging as I countered with an elbow to the head. The hit landed against coarse fur, making it snarl but it didn't seem hurt.

It jumped back. Then came again, swiping with a paw.

I could barely see the movement, but I'd fought undead faster. I dropped low, backing away fast, the beast hot on my heels.

I shoved off my front foot, cutting left. With all the power I had, I drove the makeshift spear into its ribs. It punched in deep.

Then snapped in half.

The beast exploded with fury. Its claws flew at me, wild, too fast. I felt them tear across my side, raking at my legs, trying to hook in and drag me down. I kept moving, dodging, throwing elbows and knees where I could, trying to make space now that my weapon was useless.

One of its paws whipped too far out.

I kicked it in the head. Hard.

It staggered.

I didn't wait. I darted in, grabbing onto its back, locking one arm around its throat and holding tight. It bucked and rolled, thrashing, claws digging into my legs and tearing long, bloody lines down my thighs.

It was getting loose.

In a burst of desperation, I let go with one hand, yanked my broken dagger from my belt, and started stabbing.

Over and over.

The blade punched into its flesh, short and fast. The beast roared, its body flailing, but I didn't let go. We tumbled across the ground, stones and sticks biting into me but I didn't stop stabbing. Couldn't stop. I was used to pain.

The beast wasn't.

Finally, it went limp beneath me.

I rolled off, chest heaving, limbs burning.

But I was still breathing.

And it wasn't.