Grumbling audibly, Mutasm waved his hands in front of his face. A red light was hitting him, and he was determined to push it away. Again and again, he tried, but his efforts never came to fruition. Turning around in his lying position - on the cold and hard ground - to get away from the light. But, it was already too late, his sleep sucked out of him. Sitting up with an exasperated sigh, he shivered as a sudden cold wind assaulted him - it was getting cold and fast. It had been two days since he had seen the enormous bear sniffing for his scent. The entire time he had been too afraid of leaving the cave lest he is eaten alive. Shivering at the thought, Mutasm shook his head; he did not want to wander in the forest at all. He valued his arms and legs as they were; fully attached to his body and not in some monsters mouth. Then again, the result would be the same if he starved himself from food and water. Death waited for him at every path he chose.

More so considering that small green wisp of light that had entered his cave the day before. While he was crying to himself in fear, it had entered the cave unabated by the illusion. Instead, or as Mutasm saw it, the illusion seemed to separate and make a hole for the ball of light to pass through without resistance. Slowly, it had floated towards him, and he continued running away around the room until finally he was too exhausted to keep escaping the small ball of horrific death, it reached right above his head and just stayed there. Mutasm had closed his eyes shut and curled himself into a ball, maybe if it exploded he would be kind of safe, but it did nothing except bounce up and down to an unseen effect, it caused him no harm. As grateful as he had been that it was some evil monstrosity, he still had been freaked out by how sentient the ball had seemed to be.

Now, as he looked at the reflective surface in front of him - a bit higher, considering they were at the middle of the wall - he noticed a red and pinkish glow signaling the coming of sunset. He knew he had to get up and set a few snares, gather a few plants, some firewood, and then water before the night came - a long list if there ever was one - but he still couldn’t convince himself to walk in broad daylight. Or even worse in the night where hundreds of predators were waiting from him with bated breaths. Slowly, knowing he had to brave the dangers of the wild forest out there, he stood up with weak legs. Grabbing his whittling knife in one hand, he slid his feet across the ground while his back was placed firmly on the wall, hands extended there as well. Though he knew it wouldn’t make a difference, that small modicum of safety he had tricked his mind with might help him pass the illusion.

Steadily, he reached the image, standing no more than an arm reach away. His mind screamed not to pass it, to not touch it, and if possible to not look at it. The dangers out there were going to find him otherwise, but he knew better. His body shook as he extended his arm, his fingers brushing the illusion but not passing it. An accomplishment he desperately needed. He did not stop there, as he got comfortable he pushed his hand out letting the sun’s final rays shine brightly on it. For a few seconds, Mutasm did not move. If the monsters were waiting for him, he would not be taken by surprise. After what felt like the longest ten seconds of nothing happening, he gained enough courage to pass through. With a sigh of relief, he felt his tensed shoulders droop as the anxiety that had built up left.

He was safe for now, but not for long. He needed to hurry and make some rope, set some snares, and find a few wild vegetables and fruits. Pushing his entire body out, he did not feel any resistance at all, but somehow still stumbled out. Catching himself at the very edge of the ledge, before he fell to his death. That would have been a cruel ending to it all; after going through all this suffering and trauma, he didn't even end up dying by the claws of his fears, but by falling. Laughing mirthlessly, he righted himself and took a few steps back. The bottom looked really far, but that could be his eyes playing tricks on him.

Turning away, he slid down the tilted platform - making sure to step over the fallen part - until he reached the end. Now he had to somehow climb down with his tired body. Groaning, he found traced a path with his mind and climbed down. Slipping a few times on his way down, he finally reached the bottom. Jumping down, his feet landed with an audible crunch of leaves and branches that made him wince. “Be the shadow. Be the Shadow,” whispered Mutasm in a not so much a whisper tone. Now that he had finally made it out of the cave, he was determined to make it back without any leaks, whether they be a scratch or a stump of a limb.

With urgency, he ran towards the nearest purple tree - a comfort if anything else - and tried to grab some of the bushes to make rope, but was only met with a collective shock that had him reeling in pain. It felt like someone dumped a whole tub of water over him in the desert. The sensation had him disoriented, and his sight jumbled for a while. But eventually, it wore off. “Damn it! Why is there a shock to the trees and plants?” Gritting his teeth, Mutasm did not feel comfortable enough to shock himself again to get a few branches. While rope made from the skin of the bushes and longer plants and branches would have been fantastic, it seemed that it was not a realistic option. So he chose to make do with grass.

Though grass was his last option, it was still a good source for rope making, or so his father had taught him. It was strong for a time, but would eventually break apart. Unless he found a way to get rid of the shocks he kept experiencing, he will have to make due by coming back for more grass for rope. Getting down to one knee, he rubbed his right hand on the soft grass. Looking for the best patches of grass among the purple field under him, he found it to be a useless task. “How am I supposed to differentiate between purple and a lighter shade of purple?” Looking across to the other colored trees, the colors were very much the same.

Not willing to waste another second of his time out here, he grabbed the nearest patch and pulled with all the remaining strength he had in his body. Only for the grass not to budge an inch. Brows knitting in confusion, he tried again, but the grass would not tear or come out no matter how hard he worked to pull. “What the hell? Even the grass is somehow too strong for me to tear out,” Groaning, he finally remembered that he had a knife that had lasted for thousands of years without losing its edge. With a malicious smile and eyes gleaming, he stared at the patch. “If this world is going to bulldoze over me, then my broken body will at least smash you as it falls,” he said, finally overcoming a living organism of any sort from this world; he had already been beaten without remorse by the wisp of light.

Grabbing a large patch of purple grass, with a sawing motion, he cut through them entirely almost completely without resistance. Mutasm almost dropped the knife in surprise; he had expected it to cut well, but not with this much efficiency. Smiling a happy smile, he enjoyed something finally going his way, he quickly cut a few patches until he had a roll he could barely wrap his two hands around. Taking a bit, he tied the top into a strong knot, then braided the grass into two parts which he twisted together to make it strong. As he ran out of space to finish weaving the first, he grabbed a bit in both hands and tied the ones he grabbed to both braids to make it longer. He continued to do this until he had about ten ropes that were roughly six feet long. “Long ropes and snares for larger prey. Then again, this might not be strong enough to hold down a rabbit with a unicorn’s horn,” said Mutasm, accomplishment filling him as he stared at the work he had done.

For a few hours, Mutasm had put out all ten of his ropes into snares. He had been taught by his father, that unless he became extremely proficient at hunting, he must always put ten traps or more just to catch a single critter - whether they be squirrel or rabbit. So, listening to his father's advice he did so. Mutasm also tried to get long and thick sticks to make a fish maze, but two reasons made it very clear that he would not be catching fish any time soon. The first, all branches he touched, even after cutting them from their trees, still shocked him. But, more importantly, when he finally found a river to fish in, he found one that was wide and filled with life. The issue came in when even the smallest fish was about a foot long and shot out lightning bolts. He was pretty confident in his lack of ability to survive a single one of them targeting him.

Feeling disappointed in the lack of fish to trap, marked the river in his mind. He needed to come back to fill his pot with water. River water was too contaminated in general with bacteria to drink from without boiling it first. Until then, he continued to search for a more easily attained source of food - wild vegetables. Though it took a while, he finally found purple, green, and brown potatoes and carrots. It was disconcerting to see purple vegetables he was so used to seeing in a particular color.

But nonetheless, he took as much as possible and stocked them in an area he had clean and prepped to be his him within the cave. He made the bend, away from the still ash and far enough from the illusion as his home for the time being. Hopefully, he could find a way to touch the bushes and trees without shocking himself.

With a sudden halt, Mutasm flicked his head with a finger. “I could just tie a rope around the branches I cut. I don't have to touch them!” he said to himself. Running with renewed stamina and with hopes of a warm night of sleep, he hurriedly made himself a fire within his lonely cave.

~~~

In the middle of the night, Mutasm woke up with a start. He had been living off the lands around him for the past few days. Using the shock branches, as he had come to call them, he made a warm but weird fire. The fire didn't come out the bright red he had been used to. Instead, it came out an amalgamation of the colors the branches had been from. Purple branches would make a purple fire and the same for the brown and green ones. But once put together, they would not mix, but become a colorful painting that radiated heat and warmth. Unfortunately for Mutasm, all his snares were either unused or completely broken. The small critters were just too big to trap that way, and he was just too exhausted to make some for larger prey. He had also eaten the goosebump vegetables, he named them because every time he took a bite, he would feel shivers and goosebumps run down his entire body. A creepy sensation without a doubt, but one he was getting used to.

Now, with eyes wide and heart beating a bit too quick to be healthy, Mutasm heard voices screaming and hollering outside his secluded home. The voices were speaking a language very similar to the words used by the soul within the pedestal. It had a guttural origin, but with small changes in words. With a sudden and audible pop, he felt his head begin to hurt horribly; the mother of all migraines. Clutching his head, he let out a tortured scream as the voices became clearer, and their words made sense to the foreign Mutasm.

“- hurry, don't-"

“ - she is going-"

“ - keep her in you-"

“ - she is of no value! It's the-"

Screaming even louder, he grabbed a branch and bit on it will all his might. Its shocking touch hurting him, but more importantly, it grounded him and prevented him from tearing his tongue apart with his gritted teeth. He rolled on the ground, trying to somehow lessen the pain but it only became more, until eventually, he understood their speech completely. Yet, he just heard one sentence that had him running to see.

“Kill the women when you find her! We only need the basket!” said a gruff voice with a literal growl at the end of his sentence; the words were spoken devoid of mercy. Reaching the illusion, he looked out into the night. Trying to pierce its overwhelming cover, he squinted his eye as he hid behind the illusion. There near the tree line, he found a figure covered in a long cloak of browns, blacks, and greys billowing in the strong wind that blew in the night. Kneeling in front of the purple tree he had used to make his first batch of ropes the figure hands carried a large basket that was covered in many layers of blankets and sheets; either trying to keep something hot or hiding it from the world. The figure seemed to slowly whisper in a voice too quiet to hear, and then a small sob broke out of her lungs. It was definitely a she with a powerful but feminine voice. Looking towards the forest to see whether her pursuers had come that far, her face caught enough light to shed truth to the world around Mutasm. Two things were made apparent.

White fur with black and golden dots symmetrically placed around her face like freckles was the only thing he really saw of her features, but it was enough to confirm that it was no human. The second was like all animal he had seen, she too had the ethereal tendrils floating out of her chest. It made Mutasm afraid, but it also made him think. What if those tendrils were literally ethereal and only he can see them? None of the animals ever reacted to the tendrils that seemed to pass right through them, and neither did the woman.

But, that made no difference to Mutasm. She was still a sapient creature, and should never be hunted so. He continued to watch as the lady quickly hid the basket underneath the roots of the tree, then grabbing the branches without even flinching she covered them enough to shield them from sight. Getting up in a flurry of long sleeves, fluttering scarfs, and billowing robes and cloaks, she ran with speed that left Mutasm in awe. Quickly she disappeared into the darkness, and behind her was nothing to indicate her arrival except the hidden basket.

“Growl, where did she go?!” called the same gruff voice as before, but this time the owner of the voice broke past the darkened forest to reveal a hunched werewolf-like creature that was at least seven feet tall. Resembling a wolf, he had a gray fur that was unnaturally thin in places and puff in others. Together with the long claws, the jaw, extending out into a snout, filled with sharp teeth, and the black blade in one hand, he made for a frightening monster. Behind him rushed more of the same beasts, but this time they were smaller and their fur, less unnatural and cleaner. He too had the rotten tendrils, but they were much larger than any other he had seen except the enormous bear.

Stepping forward the lead werewolf lowered himself to his arms and began to take long inhalations of the surrounding air. Trying to find the smell of the woman that had just been here. Yet after a bit, he began to claw at his snout, like a smell he despised had entered it without permission. Coughing, he shook his head and started to smell himself. “What is this reek? What could possibly smell that bad? Growl,” said the werewolf as he continued to cough.

Eye twitching, Mutasm found that creature to be insufferable. He did not smell, well maybe. Mutasm had been too afraid to take a bath in the river with those monsters that swam in the massive river. “Stupid mutt,” said Mutasm grumbling. But quickly shut his mouth with a snap. The leader's long ears began to swivel around as though he had heard those words. “Did any of you hear anything?” he said as he looked around trying to find the source of the slight whisper that could have just been the wind. Hearing a negative from them all, he growled even louder and took off into the darkness following the slightest smell his powerful nose had caught among the other.

Mutasm waited until they all left, then waited for a few minutes more just in case. After making sure a few times that they were not coming back, he hurriedly exited his hidden abode. Climbing down, he almost slipped off the platform because of his hurry but caught himself before falling. He didn't even finish climbing down the handholds, jumping of a reasonable height. With urgency in his movements, he prepared for the light shock the bushes had, pushing them away he gritted his teeth and clasped his hands into a fist. He needed to finish before they came back. Getting them out of the way with a huff, he found the lonely basket there covered in blankets of pink and purple. Grabbing the large basket, he pulled it out and held it in hands. There on his knees, he pulled the head of the blankets to reveal what had been hidden and prized so greatly by the pursuers of the woman.

With a cry, a baby's voice sounded out. “Mama,” the little girl called. Mutasm’s hands began to shake as he stared at the fluffiest and cutest thing he could have imagined. Like the woman, the baby had white puffy fur and spots of gold and black on her face. With a giggle, the baby grabbed his hand, and with strength, he did not expect pulled his thumb into its mouth. Biting it with its nonexistent teeth. A warmth spread in his chest as he stared at her, but most importantly she was devoid of the ethereal tendrils that everyone he saw had. A pure little child and nothing more. She might not have been a human, but Mutasm couldn't just leave her lying on the ground for those devil rabbits to devour. No, his older brother instincts quickly kicked in. Pulling the child to his chest, he took her and all her blankets out of the basket. Putting the basket back in place, he looked around to spot any source of danger before he could continue.

He took the child and after a great struggle got up to his ledge. Turning back to where the woman had sobbed at the loss of her child, he said, “Don’t worry, I will take care of her.” Turning away, he passed the illusion and walked into his quiet home.