The smell of pine filled his nose and he tasted dirt on his lips as his consciousness steadily returned.

His eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the level of light in his surroundings.

Before he awoke fully, he started shuffling and moving, pushing himself up on his arms.

A heavy, sharp pain assaulted his head, as he pushed against the ground, positioning himself on his knees, trying to ascertain his whereabouts.

Finally his mind began working as he took in an unfamiliar environment. A cacophony of bird chirps reached his ears. Maybe if he were an ornithologist, he could identify the various species. Shaking the thought from his mind, he removed the leaf stuck on his cheek before scanning the surroundings once more.

He appeared to be in a forest. How had he gotten here? A series of disjointed images flashed in his mind, but completely out of focus. The pain returned to his head, and only intensified as he tried to single out any of the images. His vision gradually turned white and a high-pitched note drowned out all other sounds, becoming louder and louder.

The pain was almost unbearable now. He tried to block out the noise with his hands and shut his eyes tight, collapsing again.

As his forehead touched the ground, his concentration broke, and the sound abated.

The birds had turned silent.

Unaware that he was even screaming at the ground, his throat felt hoarse, the high-pitched note only a dim memory. It didn't take a genius to connect the two events, so he refrained from further inquiry into how he had gotten into this situation, whatever it might be. He judged that getting out of it seemed more important than finding out how he got in.

For now.

His joints and muscles ached as he slowly stood up, using a tree as support. The bark dug into his hands as he shifted his weight against it, his feet unsteady, almost as if he hadn't used them in days.

Having finally managed to stand and resting his back against the tree, he noticed the indentation in the ground, presumably caused by his body. The grass and moss had righted itself, but several leaves were scattered, leaving a small circular area of free space around the quickly disappearing evidence of where he had woken. His attention, however, was focused on the area around his “napping place”, scanning for any footprints that could indicate any direction he should either avoid, or walk towards. Such clues proved elusive however, leaving him without any idea in which direction to start his trek.

With no clear goal, except leaving the place he found himself in, he decided to take stock of what he had on him.

Hoping for any clues, he studied his clothes.

He was wearing sturdy footwear, thankfully. Non-descript black boots, dark cargo pants, a grey shirt, as well as a black long sleeved shirt underneath. A pea coat, reaching his thighs, somewhere between dark blue and black, provided some warmth.

Not military issue, he surmised, black wouldn’t camouflage him too well in the forest.

Not black enough for a goth, but too casual for a funeral. Quite casual for work, as well.

The scarf, looped into a turtleneck, told him that he had prepared for a slightly colder climate.

It fit loosely around his neck, so no winter climates or any strong winds.

All of his pockets were empty. His quick search provided no cellphone, no keys, no flashlight, no multitools, no knife and not even a wallet.

So he had neither money, ID nor a driver’s license … the high-pitched noise returned, his vision started turning blurry.

A sudden bright flash stole his vision momentarily, but focused his attention back to the present situation.

He shook his head, trying to dispel any thoughts that might aggravate the strange phenomenon plaguing him.

As the pain receded and he could open his eyes again, he spotted a polyester satchel right where he woke up. Not sure how he could have missed it, he made his way towards the unexpected gift on unsteady feet. Inside the satchel, he found two plastic bottles of water, an unused drawing pad and a pencil case with assorted stationery. Again no cellphone, no tablet or a GPS-receiver that could have helped him. Probably wouldn't have gotten reception out here anyway. At least the watch on his wrist was still working, even if he couldn't be sure in which time zone he was stranded in.

He felt slightly relieved at having some water, at least, as he unscrewed the bottle cap and swallowed a big gulp. He should probably ration what little he had, only about a liter, now a little less, as he couldn't be sure when he'd find a drinkable source of water in the near future.

A rumbling sound pulled him out of his musings. He looked up as he heard the birds stop their chirping and flutter away, then turned towards the direction of the rumbling noise, unsure of what to do.

If he went there, he might find people, maybe even help … or danger.

Maybe he should bring a weapon …walk softly and carry a big stick!

After stashing the pet bottle into the satchel and lifting its strap over his head, he scanned the area with his eyes before grabbing a log and trying to lift it.

OK, maybe a log was not such a good idea, so he settled for a sturdy branch he could hold in one hand.

A quick swing, and a slightly unsatisfying swoosh. As the uneven stick cut noisily through the air, the sound it produced seemed off. Wrong somehow. Too low.

With no other options presenting themselves before him, he started to walk towards the origin of the rumbling sound. He aligned the hour hand of his watch with the position of the sun, then stopped. He had no idea whether it was before or after noon, the sun barely visible through the crowns of the trees. He wasn’t even sure in which hemisphere he was located, although he had a strong sense it was the northern hemisphere.

Something about the trees.

As he stumbled through the forest, drawing closer to the possible location of what he heard earlier, his gaze wandered everywhere, taking in the sights, looking, searching for something.

A trail, some markings perhaps, any signs of people.

He walked slowly, taking care not to trip on stones or exposed roots.

Hardly five minutes into the journey, he finally discovered something. A sign of people, somewhat peculiar though.

An overturned trap was lying on the ground. Judging by its size, either for rodents or small birds.

A hunter must have set it up. Maybe a poacher. Possibly a kid, playing around.

Crude design, probably home-made.

Suddenly the trap rattled … he jumped backwards, assuming a batting position ... wait, no, that was wrong, not batting. The posture was wrong, his torso facing too far forward and he held the stick leisurely just below shoulder height … a word flashed in his mind and he muttered,

“hassō no...”

The trap rattled again, breaking his chain of thought.

Slowly lowering the tip of his wooden “sword,” he turned over the trap. He thought he saw a small flash of greenish light, but after studying the inside of the trap, it appeared to be empty. Just to make sure he carefully opened the trapdoor and peered inside.

Still nothing.

Another flash of light, this time, in the corner of his eye. His head snapped towards the side and he looked at the source of the sudden flare while he started counting.

Of course, his destination ... 4 seconds later he heard the rumbling sound of what appeared to be thunder again. A little over a kilometer away.

He studied the wooden trap one last time, stood up and started on his way again.

“Wind chimes?”

He paused, turned around once more and listened.

“Must be losing my mind,” he muttered, putting the distraction into the back of his mind, and started walking again.

Author's Notes:

Added an edited Chapter 1, the others will follow.

I want to thank User unice5656 for helping me by editing and proof-reading

Let me know what you think in the comments.

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