Ethan woke to the sound of the fire
guttering in the early morning breeze. The lean-to of branches he had built offered some comfort, but the damp cold made it clear that staying put forever wasn't an option. His bottle of water was nearly empty, and hunger gnawed at him once more.
He remembered the sound from yesterday—the trickling of water nearby. He packed his few belongings, leaving his small camp behind, and started walking toward the faint, persistent murmur.
The forest seemed alive in a way he hadn't fully noticed before. Tiny motes of light floated among the trees, some flickering like lanterns, others pulsing gently. Small creatures scuttled or hovered in the underbrush, their bodies shimmering or shifting with the faint hum of magic. None paid him attention yet, and he kept to the shadows, moving quietly.
The stream wound through the forest like a silver ribbon. The water was shallow, clear, and surprisingly fast-moving, cutting a narrow path between trees and rocks. He crouched at one bend and cupped some water, letting it trickle down his throat. It was cold, clean as he didn't feel sick or feel any discomfort after drinkingit yesterday.
As he followed it, he kept his senses sharp. Branches snapped overhead, shadows moved in his peripheral vision, and strange calls echoed from deeper in the woods. Some of the smaller creatures appeared curious, pausing to watch him. Others vanished like smoke when he approached.
Hours passed, though he had no real way to measure them. The forest thickened in places, then opened into patches of mossy rock and sunlight. Ethan kept to the edge of the stream, using it as a guide. He noticed patterns—plants that leaned toward the water, tracks in the mud, faint impressions in the ground where larger animals had crossed.
Eventually, the stream widened, slowing as it fed into something larger. Ethan's heart lifted. The water ahead was calm, forming a shallow pond. Sunlight gleamed off its surface, and he could see ripples moving gently across it—something in the water, maybe fish, maybe something else.
He approached cautiously, crouching at the edge. The pond was bigger than anything he had expected, surrounded by thick reeds and trees that dipped their branches low enough to touch the water. Reflections shimmered oddly, as though the pond itself were alive, bending light in strange ways.
He knelt and drank deeply, letting the cold water revitalize him. For the first time since arriving, he allowed himself to sit and rest a little, watching the magical creatures that came to drink or flit across the surface. There were fish-like things with glimmering scales that left trails of sparkling mist as they moved, and small amphibian creatures that seemed to hover above the water, rippling the surface without touching it.
Ethan realized the pond could be a base of sorts. He could rest here, refill his water, observe the forest's patterns, and maybe even track what survived in this part of the world. For now, he didn't dare venture too far—every new step carried risk. But this was progress.
As the sun began its slow descent, painting the pond in shades of gold and green, Ethan allowed himself a rare smile. He was still outmatched, still vulnerable, and the forest was as alive and dangerous as ever. But for the first time, he felt a sliver of control—a place where he could pause, survive, and plan his next move.
And somewhere beneath that calm surface, he sensed the pulse of magic stronger than anything he had seen so far, as if the forest itself were watching him.