The forest seemed to be much larger than it initially appeared, as there was no apparent end to it and no sight of the fabled stream either. It was slowly getting dark and he was starting to get thirsty. He had another encounter with a Terror Bird, but this one seemed to flat out ignore him. Hopefully, because it was afraid of his amazing bird-killing skills and not because it was just too bored or fed to chase after him. No, it must've been the former. It better be.

He may have been lost. He wasn't really sure, and he was really hoping that wasn't the case, but something at the back of his mind was telling him he wasn't really going in a straight line. Apart from the constant buzzing, it was the only thing that the back of his head decided to utter and left it at that. How hard was it to walk in a straight line?

Apart from the time he avoided the Terror Bird, which was totally afraid of him, indeed, and that time he ran from a snake he almost stepped on, it shouldn't have been possible to stray off course that much. He was still right on track to hear the murmur of the stream and see the water in front of him. Any minute now.

His mana has steadily risen to 38, indicating it was probably more or less three and a half hours since he started out of the camp. He wasn't sure about the precise calculations, but arbitrary counting got him to a rate of 1 mana roughly every 5 to 6 minutes, which would mean around 10 to 12 mana every hour. It seemed to vary considerably, and sleep seemed to recharge it to full, based on the observation after one night of it. With that, he could cast two Shields, and he would get the mana for a third one any moment now. There it was, thirty-nine. What a sad state of affairs he was in. It was also boredom, more or less.

Not to say he wasn't observant of his surroundings, he really tried, but everything looked so much similar that it was hard to keep his mind on track and focused on it instead of imagining how it would be back home. He would have an ample supply of water, food, and entertainment that did not try to kill him. He sighed at the futility of imagining home. He had no clue where he was, let alone if or how to get back, and already seemed to start faltering on his second day here. Things were not looking good.

He was also quite certain that he could hear water. His other thoughts removed and his mind dead-set on tracking the subtle murmur, he sped up towards the faint sound. Within minutes, it was getting louder and clearer and he could finally see his goal.

A small, slow stream rushed through the forest, going who knows where. He knelt down and looked at his dishevelled hair, dirtied face and tired eyes. He washed his face, hands, and neck, then gulped down the precious fresh water until he felt completely revitalised if such a thing was possible. He sat down on a nearby thick root to rest a bit and compose his thoughts. Some of his worries were alleviated, but there was still the question of getting to the village, or town, alive and in a single piece.

Just when he thought he could make it, something screeched behind him and he turned to see a similar sight from earlier today. A large bird with tiny stubs for wings, mottled green and brown feathers, and a particularly large set of claws accompanied by a beak that could probably comfortably envelop his head was standing too near for comfort. Which meant basically just in sight. And it definitely didn't seem scared, unlike that totally afraid bird he passed before.

He thought for a moment, then got The Claw (a makeshift weapon he decided to call the previous bird's lower leg) out, then stared at the bird.

It was time for Big Bird: the sequel.

The oversized — or maybe that was small for a Terror Bird, but he really wouldn't like to know — bird leapt in his direction with its powerful legs and quickly closed the distance between them. He tried to hold the Claw as a makeshift bludgeon, with a healthy and useful bonus of sharp on its end, and shouted for a Daze before it could tear him to pieces.

A light went out between them and the bird staggered to the side as he swatted at its neck as it passed him by. The attack didn't seem to have much effect on anything other than firmly diverting the bird into the nearest tree, its stocky body crashing against the trunk. The tree shimmered slightly like in old cartoons where everything was overblown. But this bird was no roadrunner, and he hoped he wouldn't end up like Wile.

Did you know that coyotes are actually faster than roadrunners?

Ahem, back to the topic at hand.

The bird stammered as it tried to get its probably tiny bearings back together, which he tried to use to his advantage and clobber the bird straight on its head. He swung in a large overhead sweep, like he was trying to chop wood and look manly, and hit the bird dead centre on its head, probably by sheer luck.

The claws of the... Claw gained purchase and dug into the weak skin of the bird's head as it screeched in pain, the sound echoing around them. He decided to try and end things by pulling out his dagger, an action that put the Claw back into the confines of two-dimensional-square-space, and dragged the blade across its voluminous neck. Blood spurted from the cut and more hollow screeches ensued, as the bird slowly but surely lost consciousness and then any remains of life, its legs striking at the empty air as it died down.

He looked at the bird with a hint of pity. It was really a magnificent creature when you took the time to inspect it closer. The closest thing he could probably think of to a dinosaur, maybe it even replaced them. And there it lay dead.

So he set out to work again.

[Terror Bird meat added to Inventory]