AWAKENING PART 4

Day 0; 0940 (Morning)

Focus: 513

The sun’s light pierced through the thick canopy of intertwined tree branches and leaves, illuminating the veridian brilliance of the forest ground. Beside the gargantuan evergreens were man-sized mushrooms that 513 had initially mistaken for bioluminescent beasts hiding in the shadows. Now, under light, they propped up in delight as they absorbed the sun’s energy to use later in the night.

Roots of the massive trees snaked around the ground, making for an uneven walking surface. Unlike the sickly trees found in the spider den, the trees here were lush and spry; and unlike the den, the light within the forest were a few shades darker; the silky-white canopy of the spider den reflected light onto the ground, similar to how snow reflects light into your face.

Moss grew heavily on the forest floor. Their springiness helped keep discomfort to a minimum, but they also hid dangers from the naked eye. More than once did 513 trip over roots expertly concealed underneath the moss, and more than once did his feet break through decayed cavities of fallen tree trunks, hidden underneath layers of moss.

Extra care was needed when traversing these woods; normal hiking speeds would effectively be cut in half if one was unaccustomed to the terrain and its natural dangers.

513's mind wandered as he took in all the sights the forest had to offer. He had still not located any water source, but figured a change in scenery would lead him to the direction of one. Though he should be more wary of the terrain, he traveled at a brisk pace, slightly quicker than his normal hiking speed. He was still worried about the giant spiders following him; he was reminded of their power and grotesqueness everytime he closed his eyes.

Fatigue was fighting him on two fronts, both mentally and physically. While his body ached in areas he hadn't exercised in years, his mind reeled as the trauma from the giant spider and the strain of being hyper-focused, taxed his consciousness.

He wasn't sure when he would have the time to address his mental health, but he hoped to do so when he gained adequate space between him and the only immediate danger he knew of.

◊◊◊◊◊◊

After trekking a considerable distance from where he last rested, fear and panic that had been pushed to the back of his mind, suddenly welled-up to the surface; his relief was overtaken by anxiety, paranoia, and dread, crippling him where he stood. [Fuck...not good. MOVE DAMN IT!] 513 yelled in his mind as he pushed his trembling feet forward.

[Come oooon BODY! Feel weak LATER! Feel afraid LATER! That. Shit. Can. Wait.] 513 inwardly cursed at himself as he grew increasingly frustrated by his body’s state of near-petrification.

Despite his struggling, the panic attack eventually forced 513 onto his knees. His heart pounded erratically, causing him to gasp for air; sweat poured out of his head, like a leaky faucet; his hands and legs shook uncontrollably; his entire body felt smothered, like it was being compressed by an invisible force; his vision grew dim as darkness ate away at his periphery -- he was on the verge of passing out.

Rather than give up, 513 willed himself awake and moderated his breathing. His first deep breath was shaky and hard to manage, but he persisted. Eventually, his breathing technique won the battle; he overcame the attack and was able to calm his body and mind.

Needing to recover from his ordeal, he crawled between a group of enormous evergreens and hid himself away from would-be predators. Sprawling out over a soft bed of moss centered in the middle of the monoliths, he stared up at the sky filled with interwoven tree branches and leaves.

His panic and dread had momentarily subsided.

513: “I wonder what time it is...if I had to wager a guess, its 10:00AM, but I have no way to confirm that.”

He muttered to himself as a form of distraction. He didn’t want to admit his moment of vulnerability.

As he lay on the ground, taking in all the comforts of nature, a light breeze rustled the leaves high up in the canopy -- it left a pleasant, nostalgic sound that made 513 smile. He missed the days where he’d lay on the springy grass of his childhood home, lazing away, staring up at the sky until late in the afternoon, where his mother would scold him for skipping school. [That was a simpler time; a happier time.] 513 thought as he wiped away tears from his face.

513: *cough* “Ah, hah...uhm...right...ahem...so, that panic attack must be some kind of rebound from adrenaline, right?”

Burying his emotions, he talked to himself down by rationalizing recent events. [I can’t get sidetracked by getting depressed right now. Grieving and all that other stuff will have to wait until I get somewhere safe.] 513 thought to himself, justifying his actions.

513: “Wait, why am I even here? I’m not dead...am I? Or is this punishment? If this was hell, I’d be...well, I’d be up in those trees wrapped in silk with fangs stuck in my ass...d-don’t tell me I’m here because I stopped going to church! That can’t be, right? Right?”

513 continued his soliloquy for some time before he grew drowsy, the thought of slumber looming over his head -- a tempting reward for his efforts. However, before succumbing to sleep, he punched himself in the face.

*POW*

[I'm awake, I'm awake!] 513 thought to himself as he let out an audible groan. This was not the place to fall asleep. Not only was his position still too close to the spider den, but he also lost his bearings while suffering from the panic attack.

Standing himself up, he surveyed the land. He tried to remember what little survival experience he had, but his brain was fried; he drew a blank and couldn’t recall anything important. So naturally, he latched onto the first thing that came to mind: pick a point and move to it.

Doing just that, he focused on a target in the distance and resumed his trek. Upon reaching his destination -- which was a giant tree -- he removed chunks of moss from part of the tree’s trunk to form two horizontal lines of moss-less bark. The unnatural symbol served as 513’s marker, indicating the direction where he came from. If he stumbled across the same mark on a tree, he would know that he walked in a circle.

He continued this process as he pushed onward, making sure to align his path with previous targets so that he traveled in a relatively straight line. On the way, he continued to look for well-sized objects to use as weapons, but so far had no luck.

It wasn’t until mid-day, did 513 notice something amiss: there were no sounds; no bird calls, no annoying insect cries, no movement on the ground other than his own. Aside from the occasional breeze rustling the leaves high in the treetops or stirring up plant debris on the floor, absolutely no other sounds existed.

[How could I have missed this?...wait, wait, WAIT!...The only sounds I had ever heard were those cocoons, those fucking spiders, and the wind. Where are all the birds? Forests have birds...don't they?] 513 was lost in panicked thought, as he subconsciously bound himself in place.

◊◊◊◊◊◊

In the distance, a pair of eyes stared intensely from the shadows. It had picked up the scent of an odd-looking prey, one that couldn’t outrun its powerful legs.

As it continued to lurk, remaining deathly silent while concealing its body behind a giant tree, it gazed longingly at the prey -- a plump bipedal creature, distracted in its own musings.

The luker had been fighting back the urge to dispatch the dumb creature since discovering it meander aimlessly in the forest. Though, now would be a perfect time to kill it, the lurker waited in silence as it swallowed down copious amounts of saliva dripping from its mouth.

The lurker hadn’t eaten in days, but simply killing the creature wouldn’t be much fun; it wanted to amuse itself in the prey’s suffering. So, the lurker waited, slowly resuming its hunt as it stalked the fat, juicy creature -- waiting for an opportune moment to play.

◊◊◊◊◊◊

Sensing that something was watching him, a chill ran down 513's spine, as he broke into a cold sweat.

He immediately reviewed his recent actions and came to a simple conclusion. [Of course I'm being stalked! Even if I were careful, my smell would linger no matter where I go. I can't mask my scent until I find some water, mud...hell...even a well-placed gust of wind…] 513 damned himself for being naive, but mistakes were made, he could only move forward.

It wasn’t long before the predator closed-in on 513 who, while vigilant of his surroundings, suffered from exhaustion and swollen feet; only his willpower kept him awake and walking.

The lurker expertly approached 513 in silence, swiftly leaping over fallen branches and tree roots.

513: *sigh* "...SHIT!"

Just as he let out a sigh of exhaustion, a pungent odor emanating from his right side, drew his attention. His eyes caught a glimpse of a dark, blurred mass, quickly approaching him, completely catching him off-guard.

This lapse in judgement could cost 513 his life, but who could blame him? His mental and physical fatigue had been taxing his mind and body for the last hour, resulting in poor decision making. It was only a matter of time that he would make a fatal choice, and unfortunately, now was that time.

In an attempt to avoid the attack, 513 leapt forward to dodge and roll, but the lurker was too quick. It lunged at 513’s side, swiping its claws at his chest, but the attack missed its intended target. Instead, the claws gained purchase on 513’s meaty leg. The force of the swipe caused his body to twist, mid-leap, as it ripped into his flesh; his right leg was lacerated from the thigh down to the ankle.

He grit his teeth as his body slammed into the ground; he could feel his helical wound unfold like an accordian from the impact.

513: “Ack! FUCK!”

He screamed out in agony.

Wincing in pain, he desperately crawled away from the lurker.

Seeing the face of 513 contort in pain, the lurker snorted in amusement. It patiently looked on, as 513 wiggled away in desperation while holding tightly onto his mangled leg. The lurker was slightly impressed by 513’s dodging skills -- for such a fat target, it had decent reflexes. But, it couldn’t let such a succulent meal escape, so it changed it’s hunting strategy.

At first, 513 grasped his right leg, trying his best to stop the bleeding. However, realizing the wound was too large for him to address immediately, he quickly gave up. [Can’t fix what’s broken if I’m dead.] 513 thought to himself, refocusing his efforts into surviving the surprise attack; his hands grasped at anything he could reach to use as a weapon, camouflage, a distraction -- anything at all.

Watching 513 scrambling on the ground, the lurker flicked out its black, cable-like tongue towards his direction, coiling it around his waist as he tried to move away. The lurker took pleasure in feeling 513 struggle as it slowly tightened its tongue around him; it intended to constrict 513’s movements while slowly dragging his body into its mouth.

As the monster tugged at 513’s waist, he scrambled to grab hold of a large tree root, wrapping his arms tightly around it to anchor himself in place. The lurker, unperturbed by his attempts to postpone the inevitable, continued to pull at his waist, turning the fight into a game of tug-of-war, where 513’s body was the rope.

Moss flung in the air as 513 wormed his way on the ground. Like the moss, globules of the viscous, tar-like liquid from lurker’s tongue, were lobbed into the air, sticking onto all forms of plant life on the forest floor; the lurker had produced the liquid to increase its hold on 513.

While struggling to reinforce his position, 513 kicked his uninjured leg around like a limp noodle; he was trying to hook onto anything that could help increase his anchoring. His remaining strength was waning, but now wasn’t the time to conserve energy.

Seeing the tasty meal flail around in desperation, amused the lurker to no end. Its funnel-shaped head glowed an ominous shade of purple, as it’s goat-like eyes, each the size of a fist, squinted gleefully while its pupils enlarged. It salivated profusely as it tapped its claws on the ground in anticipation. It was about time it started to feast -- and with that thought, a guttural sound, like a biological engine starting up, echoed from its conical mouth.

After finally hooking his grubby leg onto another root, 513 sneaked a glance at the animal attacking him; the sounds it was making did not bode well for his future. His face paled seeing the funnel-shaped head of his attacker’s mouth, wide-open, filled with row upon row of brambled teeth.

Sensing he was out of time, his eyes darted around, searching for a tool to pry the funnelhead’s tongue off of him.

Rows of jagged teeth rotated inside the funnelhead’s mouth, each slowly spinning in alternating directions, resulting in a high-pitched grinding noise that caused the nearby plant life to quake in fear; it was a nightmare blender, meant to puree bodies.

Readying itself, the funnelhead dug its claws into the ground, rooting its body in place as it tugged at 513’s waist with more force.

513’s body jolted backward as the funnelhead pulled with increased vigor. His grip on the tree roots almost gave way, but somehow he managed to hold on.

Staring back into the funnelhead’s mouth, 513 grew frantic, absentmindedly screaming at the monster in frustration.

513: “Why am I fighting a fucking wood chipper?!...Fuck YOU!”

Unfortunately, his cries of disdain and frustration were drowned out by the abhorrent sounds emanating from the funnelhead’s mouth. It had sped up the rotation of its teeth, causing the high-pitched grinding noise to grow even louder.

Friction from the high-speed rotation of its teeth made the inside of its mouth glow cherry red, as arcs of electricity danced towards 513's location.

The funnelhead inched towards 513, bit-by-bit, making sure it securely latched onto the ground with every step, lest it lose control of its spinning rows of brambled teeth. As it got closer, the heat from its mouth dried the pool of blood left by 513’s injured leg.

Seeing its slow approach, 513 clawed at the elastic, thick, cable-like tongue wrapped around his waist with his free hand. But the gooey substance that coated the tongue made it hard to damage.

The air smelled of ozone and smoldering greenwood, as his body quivered from arcs of electricity toasting the ground nearby. Bare-handedly wailing at the funnelhead’s tongue was a fruitless endeavor, so he switched tactics, once again grabbing at anything he could use as a weapon.

Maintaining its slow but steady approach, the funnelhead was now only one meter away from 513’s injured leg.

[Please, please, please...yes!] 513 begged inwardly as he managed to grab hold of a jagged stone.

Black goo dripped from the funnelhead's purple lips as it waited in anticipation. It enjoyed seeing its prey struggle -- it had been playing around with 513 from the start. Though it was initially impressed by 513, in the end, the funnelhead treated him as just another stupid, defenseless animal.

◊◊◊◊◊◊

Fifty meters away, obscured by a dense grouping of gargantuan trees, prowled a hulking beast that could swallow 513 whole; it had been attracted by the sounds of struggle.

The prowler was unique, in that it specialized in hunting the funnelhead and its ilk, not for its meat, but for the challenge. It would have pounced on the distracted funnelhead earlier, but the sight of the scuffle peaked its interest; seeing an overweight, human male fighting a dangerous funnelhead alone, deserved a proper viewing.

And so, it waited in the shadows, letting the beautiful struggle play out between funnelhead and man.

◊◊◊◊◊◊

Hiding the jagged stone behind his palm, 513 quickly brought it above his chest, out of sight of the funnelhead's eyes, which protruded half a meter away from its body in order to see around its meter-wide mouth.

Readying himself, 513 gripped the stone and slashed at the slimy tongue around his waist. The stone was not quite sharp enough to leave a clean cut, but it was enough to rip and tear.

Seeing success in his act, he carved away at the tongue, lacerating and cleaving hefty chunks off of it. Blood and tar-like liquid sprayed out from the funnelhead’s tongue, as 513 continued to hack away; the smell of iron and rubber quickly filled the air as the surrounding plant life were dyed in blood and splattered in gore.

Funnelhead: "Gra, gra...GRAAAAH!"

The funnelhead screamed for the first time. It hadn't expected to be damaged by such a weak creature. Its guttural cries shook the ground, overpowering the wash of grinding teeth. Its eyes grew wide, changing from yellow to red in anger.

Dropping the playful act, it extended out its razor sharp claws and coiled its forelegs, like a spring. The funnelhead was readying a killing attack to eliminate 513.

In reaction to this, 513 threw the jagged stone he had been using as a dull knife, into the funnelhead’s mouth, then grabbed loose dirt to throw at its eyes.

As dirt flew in the air, small pebbles and plant debris peppered the funnelhead's unprotected eyes. 513 was successful in obscuring the monster's vision, buying himself a few seconds as the funnelhead hesitated.

However, it was the thrown stone that caused the most damage to the funnelhead, prompting another series of hellish screams.

Funnelhead: "GRAAAAGGGAA, AAGAGA…" *gurgle* *gurgle*

The stone wreaked havoc inside its conical mouth. Not only did it manage to destroy several rows of teeth, but it also had melted from the extreme heat, which worked to fuse and bind rows of teeth together.

This alone would not be a problem if each row rotated in unison, however that was not the case with the funnelhead. The teeth rotated in opposing directions, alternating between each row -- this was to increase the effectiveness of ripping and grinding down meals.

The fusion of opposing forces resulted in critical failure. Like a screw bolt shearing under too much torque, the funnelhead's mouth severed itself completely away from the rest of its body, right where the rows of spinning teeth had fused.

513 made himself small, doing his best to avoid the detached mouth of the funnelhead, still chaotically spinning and falling towards his direction.

He flinched his body and grit his teeth as he waited for impact.

As the funnelhead's mouth touched the ground, dirt and rocks launched outward spraying whatever was nearby with debris. The mouth exploded into several parts shortly after, as the funnelhead stumbled backward writhing in pain.

Although rocks from the explosive impact battered and bruised his body, 513 managed to avoid additional serious injuries. However, before he could breathe a sigh of relief, he had to focus his worries elsewhere.

While throwing the jagged stone into the funnelhead’s mouth, he noticed the body of a large quadruped lurking behind the shadows of a nearby tree.

Now, that shadow was standing directly behind the funnelhead.

513: "..."

513 wanted to voice a complaint, but couldn't; he was too exhausted. Rather than wasting seconds worrying about what-if or what could happen, he decided to act.

Now that the funnelhead’s tongue had separated from its body, 513 quickly forced it off of his waist and hobbled up to his feet, but not before collapsing several times in the process.

Looking back, the prowling beast that had been watching his death-match, was now fighting the funnelhead in his place. While the shadows obscured most of it, it looked like a gigantic mountain lion, much larger than an elephant.

It was toying with the injured funnelhead, not caring about 513's presence.

Taking advantage of the situation, he ran...well, he tried to. With one heavily injured leg and an exhausted body, he did what he could to gain distance. He hobbled behind trees as he moved, hoping that they would mask his position -- disappearing from the line of sight of both predatory monsters.

As he pushed forward, boisterous sounds erupted everywhere around him -- it seemed like the forest was coming to life. Creatures that had been hiding in the shadows, sprinted out in the open, heading towards the direction of the funnelhead and giant shadow lion.

513 didn’t bother trying to identify them; while he was curious, seeing several colossal shadows move swiftly amongst the trees and ground cover only meant danger, so he made himself scarce.

He shuddered to think what would've happened if he delayed his retreat. [So long as they aren't heading to me or coming from the direction I'm going…] 513 inwardly muttered before cutting himself off. His full-focus was needed on escape, not half-measures and musings.

And with that, he continued to stumble forward.

◊◊◊◊◊◊

Hours seemed to have passed since the funnelhead had attacked. Staring up into a sea of leaves, 513’s eyes wandered, looking for a break in the thick canopy. He hadn’t seen the sky since fleeing the den of spiders, and was not sure if he’d see it again.

He wanted to determine the sun’s position in the sky, to better grasp the time of day and how much daylight remained; and if he was lucky, the direction of north. However, without a clear view of the sky, that was impossible.

His search continued as he limped along the forest ground -- his feet were now bloodied by the constant traveling.

Several concerns floated in his mind as he reflected on recent events. Aside from his leg injury, the passage of time was a glaring concern that occupied his thoughts. There was a large possibility that some lapses in his memory had occurred during his journey -- when the mind is pushed to the limit, moments like that happened, he knew this from experience.

After a while, his determination to find a clearing in the canopy deflated. The adrenaline rush that had saved him a second time during his struggle with the funnelhead had long since passed. The lingering pain that came from his bruises and leg injury had been assaulting him since witnessing shadows of titans emerge from every direction but the one he headed towards.

He had been successful in pushing down that pain in an attempt to gain more ground, but now, it had become unbearable. There were still worries of the dangers that lurked behind him, but he felt he had no choice but to rest and address his injuries.

Hiding himself behind a cluster of enormous trees, he leaned his back against a large, moss-covered boulder that seemed out of place amongst the surrounding terrain.

Gritting his teeth, he slowly peeled off pieces of shredded cloth, caked with dried blood and debris. He let out a muffled cry as fragments of dirt and plant matter lodged inside the wound, stuck to the cloth that was being removed. 513 slowly repeated this process until the entire leg wound laid bare.

Dreading the worst, he examined the four equally spaced lacerations, wondering what could be done to triage such a severe injury. He had already half-resigned himself to losing the leg after being struck by the funnelhead, but admitting to that meant certain death.

513: *sigh* “Well, nothing I can do here except clean it the best I can and wrap up it tightly.”

After doing his best to debride the wound of foreign objects, he took off his XL shirt and tore it into large pieces to use as wound dressings. He then cut off the tattered fragments of his sweatpants with a sharp stone he found nearby, braiding the fragments together into cordage which he then used to wrap and secure the wound dressings onto his injured leg.

[Something is definitely wrong with my body...I should have bled out already.] 513 noted in his mind, as he tightened the dressings.

Shelving the thought to the back of his mind, he focused on addressing his foot issues.

Using the remaining parts of his shirt and the extra cordage from his pants, he fashioned a pair of rudimentary boots, stuffed with moss. He wound the cordage around his feet and ankles to secure everything in place.

Now he looked like a shirtless brown marshmallow, wearing a dark pant-short and white balloon shoes. Stylish.

He had planned to make a splint, but that would’ve taken too much time. He was already growing weary of what daylight he had left. Though, he did get lucky, finding a sturdy branch small enough to use as a walking stick.

With his major injuries addressed, 513 set out to find a place to spend the night.

◊◊◊◊◊◊

The light of the day had visibly dimmed inside the forest by the time 513 found a suitable location. He had not forgotten about the possible memory loss he had suffered, but decided to forego dealing with the issue -- like the discrepancy with his body -- leaving it for a later time.

The site he had chosen was a small cavity inside the rocky face of a tall hill. Here, the suffocating tree canopy gave way to the sky; the ground, littered with weathered boulders and mossy rock formations. Unfortunately, the sun had already sailed across the forest and was nowhere to be seen, so 513 couldn’t fully appreciate the landscape’s enchanting beauty.

Oddly, the cavity he had found was just large enough to cover his entire body.

He threw rocks and pebbles into the cavity to make sure no creatures had made it their home, before deciding on making it his temporary shelter.

To prepare for the night, first, he gathered branches and sticks to lean up against the mouth of the cavity; the trees near the opening were magnitudes smaller than the dense thickets found further inside the forest, so finding sizable tree limbs and branches was relatively easy.

He then used moss, pulled from the trunks of trees, as roofing and camouflage. Finally, for his bed, he lumped together another large pile of moss and covered it with blades of soft grass; for his blanket, he used the most readily available resource accessible to him: more moss.

By the time he had finished his preparations, he could barely see in front of him.

Completely exhausted by the day’s events, he laid down on his cushioned bed and closed his eyes, immediately falling deep into slumber.

---Chapter End