It's been two months since I went into the forest. Two months alone, away from people and their noisy settlements. The forest became my home and its silence my only companion. I learned hunting skills, though that first successful experience was never repeated, but I learned how to get enough to not starve to death. I learned to be in tune with the forest, to blend in with my surroundings to get close to my prey. None of this would be possible without my inner vision, which allows me to feel the forest, to be alone with it. Sometimes it seems to me that the forest is alive, that it understands me and favors me. I am certainly not a follower of spiritual teachings, but this experience has taught me to respect the forest and its inhabitants.
I developed my new ability through meditation. Sitting under a tree, I would focus on the smallest details of the world around me, immersing myself in its depths. At this point, I began to notice a kind of energy flowing within me. It was circulating throughout my body, and soon I realized that I was a part of it myself. Watching the rhythm of this energy, I fell into a trance. Over time, focusing on its movement, I learned to redirect it to different parts of my body. I noticed that where I directed this energy, wounds healed faster. Scratches and minor cuts from hunting disappeared before my eyes when I focused the energy on those places.
It had been about two months since I had found shelter in this forest. Summer was in full swing when I ran, but now its warm days were coming to an end. The evenings had grown cooler, and the wind brought with it the promise of cold weather. I realized I couldn't stay here much longer-the forest, which had become my shelter and home, would not protect me from the winter frost. I had to leave it and return to people, to civilization.
I gathered my modest belongings: a knife made of bone, pieces of leather I used as improvised bandages, and a few stubs I found in the forest. These things were insignificant, but they helped me survive in the wilderness. Looking around, I took a deep breath, trying to mentally say goodbye to this place that, though wild, had become my home. I thanked the forest for its generosity and shelter.
Using my "inner sight," I easily found the nearest exit from the forest and headed there. As I walked away, my footsteps became light, as if the forest itself were escorting me through its thickets. Every sound and smell reminded me of the days when I had hunted, slept outdoors, and listened to the rustle of leaves. Now that phase of my life was coming to an end.
I came out of the forest in the early morning, the sun was just beginning to rise, coloring the sky with pink and gold hues. The air was fresh and the sky was clear. The first thing I noticed as I stepped out into the open was the beaten path. It looked abandoned, but it was clearly a path that had been traveled recently. I decided to follow it, hoping it would lead me to a village, or at least to signs of human life.
After a few hours of walking, over another hill, I saw buildings in the distance. As I got closer, I realized they were the remains of a burned village. The fire had destroyed everything: black charred houses, walls cracked from the heat, and dead bodies lying in piles of ashes. The ground was covered with a thin layer of gray ash that rose beneath my footsteps. This place brought a strange feeling of desolation and fear. I felt like a stranger here, as if the dead with their lifeless eyes were watching me. I quickened my step and left the place, trying not to look back.
It was now midday. I realized that if I didn't find a village or shelter, I would have to spend the night in the open field, and that was dangerous. Loneliness and anxiety drove me on, and I walked faster, gazing into the distance.
Finally, after a few more hours, new buildings appeared in the distance. My heart thumped joyfully in my chest, and I headed there, hoping that the village was intact. As I got closer, the sounds of the busy square began to reach my ears. I hid in the crowd and cautiously crept closer to the center of the village to see what was going on.
Soldiers in armor gathered in the square. Their weapons and the iron plates of their armor glittered in the sun, reflecting its rays. In the center, surrounded by the troops, was a kneeling man. It was an older man with a beard, dressed in simple peasant attire. He was pleading with a tall rider in shining armor, who was clearly their leader:
- Please! Don't take all our food! We won't be able to survive the winter! - His voice was shaking, but he didn't stop.
One of the soldiers stepped forward and kicked him, knocking him to the ground. The man fell to the ground, a groan echoing through the crowd. Some of the soldiers laughed as if it was a funny sight. The leader's face remained cold and impassive. He finally spoke:
- Be thankful we didn't burn down your village like the dozen before-" His voice was as cold as his gaze.
When he finished speaking, he signaled to his men, and the soldiers began to gather, preparing to leave. The crowd watched in silence. I could hear whispers around me:
- Poor elder...
- They took everything.
- What should we do now?
I realized that the bearded man who had just been humiliated was the elder of the village. When the soldiers left, the people slowly began to disperse. Some were crying, others were quietly cursing aloud at the Frozal soldiers. The elder remained on the ground, in the dust, sobbing bitterly.
As the crowd began to disperse, I walked over to the elder and sat down next to him:
- Who are they? - I asked quietly, not wanting to disturb his privacy.
The elder, wiping away tears, barely whispered:
- Frohsal... They took everything from us.
His voice was full of despair, and I did not know how to comfort him. After a while, when he had calmed down a little, I asked another question:
- Why did they do that? Why did they take the food?
He looked up at me tiredly and asked back:
- You don't look like a local. Where are you from?
- I am a refugee from Arschhardt. My village was burned down," I answered, telling my short but painful story.
The elder nodded and sighed heavily:
- Then you realize. Frohsal has attacked our lands. They're burning villages one by one. Ours is one of the few still standing.
- I... can I stay in your village? - I dared to ask.
He looked at me for a long time, as if assessing me:
- You're young. All right, you can stay. My house is behind that hut," he pointed to a modest structure behind the square.
I thanked the elder for his hospitality and went into his house to look around. It was modest but cozy inside, the smell of wood and fire making it feel warm. Two teenagers sat in the corner, both looking tired and wary. As soon as I entered, they immediately stared at me, and one of them, with a defiant tone, spoke:
- Hey! Who are you? Are you going to steal our supplies?
I was a little confused by the harshness of his words, but quickly gathered my thoughts.
- No, not at all," I said calmly, trying not to irritate them further. - I'm a refugee from Arshard. The Elder let me stay the night.
The teenager grimaced, displeasure and annoyance written all over his face.
- The old fool," he grumbled, "lets anyone in the house and doesn't even ask us. We can barely make ends meet as it is, and now we have to feed you?
The other guy nodded, agreeing with his brother, but remained silent. I felt an unpleasant feeling boil up in my chest, but I didn't say anything.
- I'm sorry..." I mumbled, trying not to make things worse, and hurried out of the house.
Once outside, I looked at the elder. He seemed to have heard the conversation, but he didn't comment. We exchanged brief glances of mutual understanding, but no words were needed. I said nothing and simply walked away.
Nevertheless, I had no intention of leaving the village. Hearing that they barely had enough to eat, I decided to do something useful - to placate them by getting food for them. As I looked at the fields around the village, I noticed that everything had been trampled and only sparse sprouts were poking up through the ground. They seemed as fragile and vulnerable as I was.
I concentrated and used my ability to scan the surroundings for game. At first glance, there wasn't a living soul here, except for the underground creatures. There was a whole network of holes under the ground, where creatures resembling moles lived. I decided that I would catch them for food, so I began to hunt.
Following the movements of the moles in their burrows, I waited for the right moment. Finally, one of them began to move toward the exit. I set up an ambush at one of the holes and waited patiently. After a few minutes the head appeared, then the torso. At that moment I rushed forward, grabbing the mole with my hand. It moved, began to bite, and for a moment I wanted to let it go, frightened by the unexpected attack. But when I remembered what I was doing it for, I gripped its body tightly and snapped its neck in a sharp movement.
In this way I sat until evening, catching three moles. It was not an easy task, but I was satisfied with the result. Taking the loot, I headed back to the elder's house. When I went inside, the elder and two teenagers were sitting at the table, talking quietly. When they saw me, they were silent, and I raised my hand to show them my loot.
- Look what I managed to catch," I said proudly.
The elder smiled broadly, his eyes gleaming with surprise and joy.
- Not bad, kid! I guess you know how to please people. Come here, I'll cook them.
He took the carcasses and started cooking. I sat down at the table across from the teenagers. Unlike their previous behavior, this time they thanked me for the food, though discreetly.
- Thank you," one of them said quietly, still not fully trusting me.
We sat together while the elder cooked a chowder of mole carcasses and some vegetables. When it was ready, he gave us each a bowl and a wooden spoon. It tasted simple but satisfying, just what they needed after long days without proper food.
While eating, the elder suddenly asked:
- So, what's your name, kid?
I set the spoon aside and replied:
- My name is Alexander.
- Alexander... Well, I'm glad to meet you. We don't often eat snorglers," he nodded at the moles, "but we can't complain in times like these. By the way, we heard rumors about Arshard a month ago. How did you manage to survive?
I faltered for a second, remembering the horrors I'd had to endure.
- I lived in the woods, hunting game, hiding from people.
The elder raised his eyebrows in surprise.
- In the forest, you say? The forest doesn't usually forgive those who trespass on its territory. It must have taken a liking to you if you managed to stay alive.
Those words sounded strange, but at the same time I myself felt that there was something... alive in the forest, something that allowed me to escape unharmed.
After this conversation, the elder finally introduced me to his companions.
- Here are my sons, Klim and Falco," he nodded toward the teenagers. - And I am Earl, the elder of this village.
I said goodbye to them for the night, and Earl showed me a corner where I could spend the night. This time I was able to sleep well, knowing that not only had I found shelter, but that I had done something useful for these people.