The pond had become Ethan's lifeline. Its calm waters, clear edges, and surrounding reeds offered a rare sense of security in a forest that seemed to be alive and watching. For three days, he stayed close to its banks, careful not to draw unnecessary attention.
The first day was spent resting, letting his muscles recover from the long trek and the encounter with the stone-armored predator. He kept a small fire going at night, the smoke drifting lightly to deter anything curious while also keeping him warm.
On the second day, he studied the pond's surface more closely. Strange, fish-like creatures flickered beneath the water—elongated bodies covered in scales that glimmered with faint colors, leaving shimmering trails as they moved. They didn't leap or attack, but Ethan remembered the first rule of survival: never assume a creature is harmless just because it doesn't look like a predator.
He crouched at the edge, dipping his fingers into the cool water. Slowly, he tried tossing a small twig. The fish scattered at first, then returned, cautious but curious. He laughed quietly. "I've never seen anything like you. You're… weirdly beautiful, though."
Ethan spent hours watching the pond, taking notes in his notepad. He noticed patterns:
The fish tended to stay near reeds in the morning.
Small winged insects hovered close to the surface at midday.
The edges of the pond were quietest just before dusk.
He didn't dare catch any of them. Not yet. He knew that if water attracted these creatures, other predators would come for the same reason. One wrong move and I could be lunch.
The nights were the hardest. Every rustle in the leaves, every snap of a branch, made him freeze. Shadows moved unnaturally, and he felt the presence of something large nearby. But the fire, though small, gave him some measure of control, a circle of safety in a dangerous world.
On the third day, he decided to test his patience and skills. Using a long stick, he tried scooping a small fish from the shallows. The creature darted quickly, slipping between his fingers. He chuckled, shaking his head. "Not today, buddy. Not yet."
He realized something important: patience was just as valuable as strength or knowledge. He couldn't rush, couldn't assume anything, and every interaction with the pond's life taught him more about this world.
By the end of the third day, Ethan felt a subtle shift inside him. He was beginning to understand the rhythms of this place—when to move, when to stay still, and how to read the signs of life around him. He still had no idea how he might use magic, and the creatures around him remained unpredictable. But he had survived three days in a world that could have killed him within minutes.
Sitting by the pond, legs crossed, he let his gaze wander over the water's glimmering surface. The fish flickered, the reeds swayed, and the hum of the forest seemed… almost calm. For the first time, he felt a small measure of belonging in this alien world—not as a conqueror, not as a hero, but as a careful observer, a survivor learning the rules as he went.
And deep down, he knew the pond wasn't just water—it was a window into everything else he would need to understand to live.