The morning sun showed on my face, the grass near my head slightly wet with due. The tree next to me still brown, as it should be, as an oak. I remembered what happened last night. Each vivid detail, etched into my mind. The voice didn't leave me, nor did the knowledge of my maimed hand. I rolled over and with my good hand, the left one, and pushed myself up. The dirt beneath me cold, and the tunic on me protecting me from the worst of the cold. Again, I'm alive.

Biting off the cork with my teeth and spitting it onto the ground, gulping in water from my waterskin, thinking about how I should go about recorking the skin. I'll push off looking at my hand for as long as I could. Biting the waterskin with my teeth, I grabbed the cork on the ground, regrabbed the skin and bit the cork and shoved the cork into the waterskin with my teeth. That worked well enough. Now, the finally, the dreaded part. Checking the damage of my hands.

My right hand, painful in the morning breeze, I brought it up to my face. My eyes were closed. Fire was in my blood, the familiar rush of battle came to me, but there wasn't any battle to come. Anxiety, the feeling of dread, I felt like vomiting. But looking away from reality doesn't make it go away, I know that well enough. Although speaking about reality with what I've gone through recently is ironic. Perhaps I could one day look away and be made invulnerable from reality's crawling hands.

Enough with the time wasting. Slowly my eyes creaked open. The sight of my hand, white scars webbed itself across my skin. My hand's skin was nearly completely replaced with scar tissue, and to my elbow creeping scars found its way across my skin. The tips of my fingers were gone, my thumb surviving the best, my little finger gone. My ring finger only had the second knuckle left.

Why was it scarred? I moved to touch it with my left hand. The skin was mostly dead, I couldn't feel anything. I tried moving my fingers, and for the most part I could move it. Not much, but it could be moved. Trying to close my hands, only my thumb could reach a position that I would call full stretch. The rest barely moved at all. This means only one thing. For all intents and purposes I'm left with only a single hand.

Maimed, but no longer sleepy, nor thirsty. My heart beat as it normally did, the guilt was not so rough. No longer was I so far away from reality, the black worms no longer found purchase within my spirit. I looked away from my hand and looking around my surrounding. The same trees. The only major difference would be a massive outcrop, grayish rocks decided to pop itself out of the ground. This could work as a good landmark. Was I too sleepy last night to notice it?

I looked across the ground for anything new as well. Nothing. Oh, wait, there's something next to me. Another green leaf, this time on top of it something red, and hazelnuts, already cracked and open. I've never seen the red fruit before. Crouching down I grabbed it, inspected it and noted the similarity it had to the apples I knew. Much larger, almost offensively so, it required my entire hand to hold. Given that I haven't died from yesterday's meal, and given that I doubt the mystic white flame of last night was caused by either the meat or the berries, I took a bite out of the flesh of the fruit.

If woody apples could be used as a base, this apple was absolutely offensively sweet. Porous, not as dense as I expected it to be. Food is food, however, so I ate the entire thing and moved onto the nuts.

Opting instead to pick up the leaf and take it with me wherever I wanted to go, perhaps no where. I stood and ate all the nuts, dropped the leaf, and looked over to the rock. Whatever caused these rock to withstand the wind and flora was mighty. The height of it was beyond the height of most of the trees I've seen, not all but it would be the best vantage point I could find. Getting on top would be another story.

Walking along the circumference, I noted the minor outcrops that I could use to crawl on top of the major one. I looked down at my heavily scarred hand, gently tapped it against a rock, and was pleasantly reassured that I could not, in fact, feel a thing. I'll cry about my maimed hand later. For now it means I can climb, although not at my peak. Perhaps I wouldn't need to climb, not much at least. There was enough smooth rocks around the the biggest one to make my way up.

So I did so. Finding a small rock, placing a foot on it, lifting myself up and placing my entire bodyweight on it. And I did it again, every once in a while having to pull myself up on to a rock that I couldn't use my feet to climb. This was difficult, but I had two arms. It was possible. And it proved to be possible.

At the highest point, the smooth rock of the largest outcrop gave me a great vantage point of this great forest. Indeed, trees were everywhere. I could see no rivers, flat land covered with shedding leaves and trees. And in the far distance, slight swelling of earth as the roots of mountains found its anchors within the ground. Large rolling, dark clouds could be seen in the distance. If I was unlucky it could find its way over to me. But I could guess where I was from this. To the west of my humble village, somewhere within the gap of another town, significantly smaller than the one down from the river. The name of this one I was never made to remember.

But I could see no signs of human life. Sure, I might meet a hermit whose decided living with men was too much to bear, or outlaws. Better a hermit, but any human contact wouldn't be welcome.

Perhaps I should pay more attention to the potential contact I was having with an unknown being. The voice, the green leaves, the strange fruit, the food and drink. The waterskin was filled once again with water, and once again I was given some amount of food to survive on. I should be assured that this being meant me no immediate harm. I wasn't being fattened up by a hungry faery, I wasn't being given enough food. And given that I was still being fed despite having a maimed hand, the faery didn't mean to use me for anything labor intensive.

I wasn't going to be made a slave to a faery. But, why did the woody apple tree's fruit give way to decay so quickly? If I assume that this faery had magical powers on par, or greater, to what Brenna had displayed, then it wouldn't be all that far fetched to assume that it could've done something as great as make all the fruits on a tree rot. Did it not want me to eat well? And this malaise, this feeling of being lost, this feeling of walking in circle, was it the work of this faery as well?

Regardless, sitting and watching the forest from slightly high above would do me no good. I needed to find water, something I should've been able to find on the first or second day. Whatever intentions this being had with me, either I should do my best effort to make away from its territory, or not intrude too much on its kindness. I needed to walk on my own two feet. If it didn't want me to leave, then it probably could make certain that I never went far.

Granted that it had given me a new tunic, a dark green fabric that I wasn't sure the material of. It was like linen, but slightly stiffer. The sleeves on my right arm were slightly darkened and some holes had formed from the heat. Still wearable and highly appreciated, not being forced to walk around in the cold without upper body clothes was torture, and tunics are not easy things to make.

Going back down from the massive flat stone, I resolved myself towards finding a stream or tributary to have drinkable water from. Everything else will follow from this.

The forest was as it always was, fallen trees littered the ground in places. Certain spots of land were covered in branches, widow makers it's called by some. Ferns would try their best to trip you or simply irritate you, and bushes would try to compete with trees for space. Such was nature, blooming and rotting in the same place, at the same time. The grand cycle showing itself best, in the smallest area, in the smallest amount of time.

But water. It's becoming obvious that I can't be expected to find a stream in the conditions that will soon follow. The clouds were rolling in, although not dangerously dark it would bring with it rains. Finding shelter was a better option. Luckily, the very rocky outcrop that I had climbed had some overhangs, although no caves, I could stay sheltered there for a while. I had nothing to collect rainwater with but my waterskin, which was good. This isn't ideal but I can make due with what I've been given.

A small hole where multiple rocks overlapped. About three people could fit uncomfortably within the gap between them, deep enough for any water to not accidentally get within or on me. Nor would water flow within, as it was high enough off ground, and no ground sloped enough to let water flow towards it to begin with. The floor was rock, the same rock that the rest was made of, and the ceiling low. Lichens dotted some areas as well. Good enough, I could crawl inside but couldn't stand, just sit. I can stay in here for a long while, until the rain passed.

A cold floor and a darkening sky. Me, hugging my knees and patiently waiting for the rain to begin. I could sleep in here but the air was damp, and I don't know what sort of life would come seeking the very same shelter as I have. Staying awake for a while longer would be beneficial. The clouds came quickly, and they may leave just as quick. Staying awake wouldn't be a bad idea.

Eventually the rain came. I've made good time in arriving to this little shelter, the cold and hard rain pelting the trees and ground would not be comfortable with the clothes I had now. Crawling slightly out and stretching my hands to feel the rain for myself, large bullets of rain stinged my hand in rapid strikes of nearly frozen pellets. This would do for collecting rain water. Small streams of water formed from above me, I could use that as a free funnel. The water would be slightly dirty but that wouldn't be much of a concern for me.

The first opportunity for actual survival, done by me and not by some unknown spirit. That brought my spirits up slightly, I wasn't completely removed of all initiative. Taking out my waterskin and uncorking it once again with me teeth, I held it out for one particularly large flow of water and held it out under it. The water made my hands and fingers numb, but I could grit through it and wait. It didn't take long for my skin to swell with water once again.

Corking it back using my improvised method, I set the skin beside and watched the forest slowly be engulfed in the barrage of heavenly water. I could see no streams forming, the ground becoming wet and swallowing the water within itself. Leaves would fall, and the wet decaying leaves below were forced flat and wet. The sound of rain was rhythmic, soothing, a good tune to listen to if I wanted to sleep. If it rained for long enough I might very well fall asleep regardless of whether I wanted to or not. Hopefully it won't last all day, or worse for several days. I'd need to leave the shelter and deal with the harsh rain out of necessity then.

Hours flew by as the same rain assaulted the forest. My thoughts moved away from the rain and into the experiences I had last night. Why did my hand light on fire? I pulled a string taut, broke it, and tried to use that released tension as a weapon to kill my enemies with. Why would that summon a flame? What was the string to begin with, would probably be a better question. Looking internally, I could see hazy webs of light filling up my entire body. The center of the entire structure located with my heart, seeming to beat in tandem with the beat of my very real and physical heart.

I didn't dare to touch it. I don't know whether or not it's real, but the flames and injury I've received are proof enough of something being very real. I watched as the beat continued, flowing light moving from the center of my body and into very corner and depth it could reach. The webs were thick, and each beat seemed to spread out smaller and smaller strings. It was not a calming sight, and it seemed too real to be fake.

And my hand. Why was it so scarred? The injury was fresh, not even a day ago. How did it heal so fast? I've experienced miraculous healing from the time I fought against Brenna, but there was no scar tissue from that. If there was a spirit helping me, which I'm forced to assume there was, it must've been a different one from now, the one from before was much better at healing than the one that helped me now. Not that I'm being picky. The wounds I received would've most likely killed me as I am now, I had no way of healing it meaningfully. And even if I did, the pain would leave me out of it. I would be dead.

And finally the voice. I couldn't tell who or from where it came, it sounded feminine and almost childish. Distant. Sometimes close. I couldn't tell. Was she the spirit helping me?

Thinking about it too hard wouldn't help me. There's too little information to go by, and there's not much I could do. For now I'll watch the forest and the rain.

Drowsiness had started to creep its way into my mind. My eyelids would grow heavy, and sometimes fall and try to drag me to sleep. For a long while I played a game of trying to stay awake, between falling asleep for a moment and suddenly waking up. Felt terrible, like I was torturing myself, but I wanted to stay awake. But my will wasn't enough, as it has been for a long while now, and sleep eventually got a solid grasp on me.

Or so it thought. I exploded my eyes awake again, opening my eyes as wide as I could get it. A small child stood in front of me, almost hiding behind a rock and carrying a cloak in her right hand. This time I jolted my entire body, hitting my head against the rock wall behind me. That'll wake me up for a while longer. Trying to rub the awful pain emanating from my skull, I kept my eyes on the strange child in front of me.

Extremely pale, skin almost as white as the birch trees that could sometimes be seen, green eyes wide open, staring at me in shock. A spear in hand, held tightly on her left. A dainty thing, to most it wouldn't even work as a javelin. Her hair, too, was green, thin, dense threads of short hair covering her head. Had she dyed it? A cloak of elaborate floral patterns covered her upper body, subdued blues dominated the colors, and on her legs tight trousers were worn in a similarly modest brown.

We stared at each other for a long moment, I rubbing my pain away and her gawking at me. I couldn't speak, so I couldn't break the ice. I didn't know who she was, but I imagine she didn't expect to find someone within this little shelter. For a child she was proportioned much more like an adult, albeit scaled down, and her face was fine, almost noble in appearance.

She dropped the cloak and decided to run for it. Or rather, hide behind a rock and away from my sight, leaving the cloak behind and the rest of her body hidden away. I stayed there, not moving, waiting for something to provide me with a sign of what to do. I could wait and hope for her to return to my sight. She might be getting water on her, and she must've been wet and cold from the rain. That was most likely the reason for her extremely pale visage.

I started to crawl out, to collect the cloak and find the young girl, but was stopped by a voice. "Stay still. Don't move." It was shrill, almost panicked, and oddly familiar. I stopped moving and let the young girl catch her bearings. This is getting very awkward for the both of us. Was I that terrible of a sight?

Eventually, after a short while, she peeked her head out and looked at me once again. Her face was without expression, and her spear was held tightly with her right hand. Even from the distance we held, which admittedly wasn't that great, I could tell the spear was crafted by a master craftsmen, the dark edges of the blade, thin and long and covering a triangular area of pale oak, the oak itself embellished with patterns that I would probably have to inspect closely if I were to appreciate the full majesty of. Most likely the blade was tipped with strips of flint, as it was dark and near the tips translucent.

"Hello," she said simply. I waved my one good hand at her, tucking away the maimed right hand of mine away.

"Do not hurt me. I am not here to harm you. I'm safe." Her voice was calm, delibrate, but it carried undertones of barely contained fears. I nodded and opened up my hand to show her I had nothing. She looked at my right hand, and waited for me to move it as well. With some fear of my own I revealed it to her. She didn't looked shocked, but rather relieved that I had no weapons in my hands.

"Good. I'm safe." She stepped out and revealed the rest of herself, and walked towards the cloak, her eyes trained on me and her hands tightly clenching her spear. She slowly crouched down and searched inside the cloak for something. Somewhere hidden away in the center she pulled out a green package, as if something was wrapped up in a leaf. Slowly she picked it up and once again extended herself to her full height. Very small, I can't see her going beyond my chest in height.

"Here." She placed it a bit close to me, delicately walking one or two steps near and placing the package on the ground. I didn't move, only watched. Once the package touched the ground she quickly retreated back near the cloak. "Here," she repeated.

Moving my left hand I picked up the package, crawling a bit in order to reach it. The package itself was a large green leaf, and inside a slice of meat was placed.

"Eat."