The forest seemed endless. Ethan had no sense of direction, no trail markers, no map. Just his instincts telling him to keep moving—toward where the hybrid creature had fled earlier. If animals needed water, maybe it was headed that way.
But instincts weren't enough. He needed a plan.
He stopped and pulled out the notepad and pen from his bag. His handwriting was shaky, but he forced himself to write.
Priorities:
1. Water
2. Shelter
3. Food
4. Fire (safety + warmth)
It was something he remembered from a survival article he once skimmed online. Fiction was unreliable, but facts—those could be life-saving.
For a brief moment, though, his mind wandered back to the truth he couldn't ignore: every living thing here could use magic. Every living thing. If even bugs had it, what about him?
He glanced around, made sure nothing was watching, and held out his hand. "Alright… if this world has rules, let's see if I can play by them."
He focused hard, trying to will something—anything—to happen. Fire, light, a spark… nothing. His fingers just twitched uselessly.
"Figures," he muttered, shaking his head. "This isn't an anime."
Still, he tried once more, quieter this time. He imagined energy flowing through him, pictured it shaping into a flame in his palm. He even whispered the word ignite.
Silence. Only the rustle of leaves overhead.
That was enough. Any more would just be desperation. "Later," he said firmly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Survive first. Fantasize later."
As the sun began to dip lower, he focused on something practical. He had a lighter—valuable, but limited. He gathered a pile of dry twigs and leaves, then thicker branches. His grocery bag would stay untouched except as backup fuel.
He managed to get a small fire going, the flames crackling weakly but giving him a sense of comfort. It wasn't much, but it pushed back the shadows.
For shelter, he chose a cluster of thick roots at the base of a giant tree. With branches and foliage, he fashioned a crude lean-to, enough to shield him from wind and prying eyes. It wasn't sturdy, but it was something.
The harder problem was water. His throat was already dry, the granola bar he'd eaten earlier, making it worse. He searched the ground, listening. Finally, faintly, he thought he heard it—the trickle of moving water.
Heart pounding, he followed the sound until he reached a shallow stream. Relief washed over him, though he hesitated. He knew better than to drink untested water. Still, without tools, what choice did he have?
He crouched and stared at his reflection in the stream. He almost looked like a stranger—eyes sharper, shoulders hunched, face streaked with dirt. He cupped a handful of water, sniffed it, then sipped just enough to wet his mouth. Not too much. He'd wait and see if his body reacted badly before drinking more.
Back at his small camp, the fire crackled, the night creatures began their strange calls, and Ethan sat with his notepad again.
He wrote just one line before exhaustion overtook him:
"I'm still alive. That's enough for today."