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Chapter 2 - Wake, Wander, Watch

Ren scrambled over a twisted log and entered a quiet part of the forest, where the trees were spaced further apart and thick moss softened his steps. There was something different about this place. Not that it felt safe, but more like the air was holding its breath. He crouched beside a strange group of moss-covered rocks and saw something sticking out between two of them. Reaching in carefully, he pulled out a small wooden carving. It looked like a stick figure with long arms—almost human-like, but the head was too round and the arms bent the wrong way. The surface was smooth, like someone had polished it recently.

"What is this?" he muttered. It didn't look like trash, and it wasn't damaged by wind or rain. Someone must have placed it here. Maybe someone lived nearby. He turned it over in his hands. No marks. No words. But the moment he touched the bottom, a small screen appeared in the air:

[New Area Discovered: Silent Grove]

Instinct Gained: Watcher's Sense

"You can now sense the presence of watchers. The stronger the gaze, the clearer the direction."

Ren froze.

He scanned the trees with only his eyes. Nothing moved. Everything was still. He turned the wooden figure over again, waiting for another message, but none came. The screen stayed for a few seconds, then vanished. A cold feeling crept over him.

As soon as it disappeared, Ren felt it—a light pull at the back of his neck, like when you know someone is staring at you. But there was no one here. Just forest.

He stepped back slowly, keeping the carving in his sight. It didn't move. It didn't do anything. Still, the feeling stayed.

Was it the figure? Or something else?

He reached a tree a few steps behind and placed his hand on the bark. It grounded him. Helped him not panic. The rope on his waist felt useless. His sharp stick too light. Whatever this was, he couldn't fight it off with a stick.

His stomach growled again. Real hunger.

He looked up. The trees above were thick, but there were cracks of blue sky. It wasn't night yet. Still time to move. He didn't want to stay here. Not near that carving.

Keeping his eyes on it, he stepped back slowly. When he reached the hill's bottom, he turned and walked faster. Still no sound behind him. Just the wind. But the feeling stayed, like it had crawled inside him.

After ten minutes, it began to fade. The trees opened. Light came through. And ahead, something gave him a little hope.

Water.

A narrow stream ran through the trees. Clear. Cold. He rushed to it, dropped to his knees, and splashed his face. The icy water stung. He cupped his hands and drank. It tasted clean. Almost sweet.

He drank again.

And again.

By the fourth gulp, he paused to breathe. The fear started to slip away. His mind slowed down.

He looked around. This place felt calm. Not like the clearing. Just quiet.

He leaned over and saw his reflection. Pale. Tired. Hair messy. Dirt on his face. But his eyes... they looked sharper. More awake.

He splashed his face once more and stood up, drying his hands on his jeans.

The "Watcher's Instinct" hadn't gone off again. He didn't want to test it.

Turning away from the stream, he looked for higher ground. Somewhere to rest. He needed to sleep. To think. Maybe if he slept, another skill would show up.

And right now, that was the only thing he could hope for.

Ren found a small rise between two trees where the slope flattened out. A fallen trunk nearby offered some cover, and the moss underfoot was soft and dry enough to sit on. He lowered himself slowly, resting his back against the log. His legs were sore. His feet stung in places, and his shoulders ached from tension he hadn't noticed until now.

He looked up at the branches overhead. Nothing but green leaves and shadows shifting gently with the wind. The silence felt normal again. A bit too quiet, but not the kind that made your skin crawl.

For the first time since waking up, he let himself sit still. No movement. No worrying about where to go next. Just breathing.

He pulled the moss rope from his waist and set it beside him. Not much use now, but maybe tomorrow he could try to make something better. If there was a tomorrow. If nothing strange found him first.

He didn't realize he was dozing off until his chin dropped. His eyes snapped open, then closed again, slower this time. He was too tired to fight it.

Just a nap, he told himself. Just enough to clear his head.

Then darkness.

Not sleep.

Not dreams.

Just a black space. Still. Deep.

Then:

[Skill Acquired: Clayshape]

"You can mold certain types of soft earth with your bare hands, creating simple containers or forms."

Ren blinked awake, heart beating fast. The forest was still there. Still quiet. Still real.

He looked at his hands, then at the moss, the dirt, the trees.

It had happened again.

...

© Anthony Osifo 2025 – All rights reserved.

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