I walked for another two days, brushing off the voice I’d heard as an under stimulated mind. I heard no Russian whispers the next night, and managed to chew through a few of the rations I’d located in spite of the fact that they were almost certainly no longer potable for anyone other than a deadman, biting through some of the harder portions would’ve been difficult for most Deadman even, though I had no trouble.

I started to detect new scents in the air. Greenery, moisture, and musk started to hit my senses even before anything other than outstretched wastelands and the ruins of old buildings entered my vision. I came across a small lake, irradiated to hell, with bright green grass surrounding it that glowed slightly wherever I touched it. I knelt down and scooped up a few handfuls of water, drinking them directly. The water was surprisingly cool, and I splashed some on my face.

When I looked up, I saw a massive bird. It was bent down across the lake from me, it’s neck long and pink, no covering at all until the creature’s massive body which was covered in feathers that were thick and black. When it lifted its head from the water, I realized it was taller than me standing straight.

I slowly pulled my rifle from my pack, and took aim. The creature didn’t react, simply tilting its head back down to the water to have another drink. I was hesitant to use up ammo, as I was unsure of my ability to resupply, but my craving for fresh meat overrode that concern. I took careful aim at where I estimated the creature’s heart would be, and pulled the trigger.

The bird was knocked back slightly, and made a hideous noise somewhere between a scream and a rooster’s caw, then it leapt clear across the small lake toward me. The jump was easily thirty feet, and I was so surprised by it that I didn’t have a chance to move before the beast landed on top of me, pushing me to the ground.

Once I was down below it, the bird began to stomp on me furiously, continuing to squawk as it did so. The blows were powerful and savage, and I took roughly half a dozen of them before I managed to roll out from under the creature, lift my rifle, and fire at it again.

It staggered again, and I noticed a patch of feathers slick with blood where I’d shot it. In spite of the fact that it was clearly injured, it began to peck at me, forcing me to make a number of narrow dodges as it swung its head, whip-like, at me again and again, keeping me from being able to fire on it again.

It sent another kick toward me, but this time I was ready, I caught it with my arms, and yanked the leg. The beast flailed, trying to push me away or get its leg back, but I held fast. Since I was unable to get a clean shot on it as it pushed and pulled me backward and forward, I bit it, sinking my teeth deep into its thigh and tearing off a chunk of it.

This caused the bird to struggle even more fiercely, and it managed to break away from me, moving away as quickly as it could. I chased it, only able to keep up thanks to the chunk of its leg I’d removed which I swallowed whole as I pursued it. I paused twice to take more shots, but it just continued running. Ahead of us I saw a long line of trees, the moisture and greenery I’d been smelling coming into focus. I was worried I’d lose the beast in the unfamiliar woods, but just before it reached the edge, it diverted, moving to run along the wall of trees rather than go inside.

That allowed me to line up another shot, I let out a breath and fired. This time the creature didn’t just stagger, but actually tumbled forward, rolling several times before it came to a complete stop. I approached it carefully, avoiding its powerful legs, still reeling from the strength of the blows they’d so recently rained down on me. The creature was still alive, letting out wet ragged breaths. I took my knife and ended its life quickly.

I looked up at the treeline nearby, and decided to drag the body back to the pond where I’d first encountered the creature. I wasn’t sure of why it had avoided the woods, but considering the last of the landmarks I’d been given by the Pilgrim was a, ‘Forest of Teeth’, I decided it was best to take no chances. I butchered the creature, taking the time to actually build a small fire, make tea, and cook some of the meat. I was getting close to my destination, and making good time all things considered, I could afford to take a short break to properly prepare a meal. I ate the creature’s hearts first. Two of them had bullet holes in them, and the third explained its strength and resilience in spite of the damage I’d done to it. It wasn’t the tastiest piece of meat I’d ever had, but it was delicious in comparison to the ancient Russian cardboard I’d been eating for the last day or so. I ate seconds, then thirds, washing it all down with mint tea from Pott’s. When I was done, I saved the rest of the meat, took a moment to clean and reload my rifle, and moved on to the edge of the woods.

Forest of Teeth was as vague a description as everything else. Was it metaphorical? Were there trees in the forest shaped like teeth? Were there predators in the woods with sharp teeth that hunted those who entered them? Was it an old name that the Pilgrim had simply known it by his entire life? Was it literal? Considering how metaphorical everything else had been I was inclined to believe that the second option, that it was full of predators, was the most likely.

I drew my sword and pistol and made my way inside. The forest was thick, and before I was more than a dozen steps inside, I had to start cutting my way through it. It was slow, dull work. It took more than twenty minutes to make what I estimated to be a mile into it. I kept my eyes, ears, and nose open, doing my best to detect any predators before they closed in on me, but I heard nothing, just the thwacking of my sword through the brush and my own breathing.

I paused. That was strange. Forests didn’t tend to be quiet. Even the ones I’d traveled through that were deep in deadzones were always full of noise and teeming with life of some kind. It was usually life that was bent on killing and eating me, but still, the quiet was almost more unnerving than that.

I cut deeper into the forest, my sense of unease growing as I moved. I was another mile inside, when I decided to take out my canteen and have a sip of water. As I did so I looked back to check my progress. I tilted the canteen down. All I saw was forest. The path I’d cut through everything was completely gone, and I couldn’t see any gaps in the canopy above me. It had all grown almost as quickly as I’d moved through it. I picked up my pace, holstering my pistol so that I could tear branches and bushes out of the way with one hand as I cut them down using my sword with the other.

I made it another mile in half the time, but stopped when suddenly I felt a flash of pain in my hand. I pulled it back, and saw a small line of blood leaking from it. It started to heal almost immediately, but the wound looked suspiciously like a bite rather than a bramble. I felt my heartbeat speed up and let red creep into the edges of my vision. I sped up even more, I felt more cuts, and bleeding, but I ignored it, healing faster than any damage was done to me as I tore a hole through the forest as quickly as possible.

I made it almost three miles this time, when I realized I was hearing something other than myself. I calmed my breathing and let the red in my vision fade away, returning my attention to the forest around me rather than just the path forward. The plants all around me were grinding and gnashing teeth that they hadn’t had before. Their trunks split open to reveal horrifying mouths, and their branches slowly moving toward me. I had been wrong, ‘Forest of Teeth,’ had been meant literally after all.