I have to get out. Right now, I'm still lying on my back, my spine pressed against the damp, cold ground.
My throat feels dry and sore, as if sand is stuck inside it. Swallowing brings nothing but a burning sensation, and staying in this narrow hole will only worsen my condition.
I didn't waste time. My body had recovered enough to move.
I started with the simplest thing, moving my toes. They were stiff, but they responded.
Good.
I bent my knees slightly and shifted my heels, searching for footing. My waist pulled, the scar there throbbed briefly. Not painful enough to stop me, but noticeable enough to be wary of.
I stopped for a moment, regulating my breath.
This hole was narrow, but I didn't need to turn over. The way out was in the direction of my feet, the low crevice where I had entered earlier.
I bent my elbows and planted them in the ground. With a slow push, I began to shift my body backward.
My back scraped against the earth, my shoulders occasionally touching the walls of the hole. The cloth that had been wrapped around my waist dragged under me too, damp and dirty, but I didn't care.
Each push was felt in my still-stiff shoulders and waist, which weren't fully healed, yet my body obeyed, and I didn't need to force it.
I kept pushing, little by little.
My heels touched the outside air first. The cold night air seeped into the skin of my feet, offering slight relief.
I pressed my elbows harder and shifted my body again. The cloth under my back scraped against the rough ground, triggering a mild sting in my waist, but my body kept moving.
With one final push, my body slid out of the narrow hole.
"Hahh… hahh… hah…"
I fell onto my back on the forest floor. Breath rushed out of my lungs. Dry leaves and damp soil stuck to my back, and the wrapping cloth was folded haphazardly beneath me.
I didn't move immediately, letting my chest rise and fall a few times until my breathing stabilized. My body felt tired and heavy, but the pain was far more manageable than before.
Carefully, I bent my knees and raised myself, pressing my elbows to the ground before my palms joined in to support me. My arms trembled briefly, but they were still able to bear my weight, until I finally managed to sit up.
From this position, I could see the surrounding forest more clearly.
The night was still dark. The moon was covered by a thin layer of mist, reflecting only a faint light that was barely enough to illuminate the ground. Yet my eyes, eyes that had changed since I ate monster flesh, were still capable of capturing shapes and distances well enough even in conditions like this.
Large trees towered around me, their trunks thick and covered with damp moss. Huge roots jutted from the ground, sprawling and winding with no clear pattern, forcing anyone walking among them to stay alert. Thin mist moved slowly between the trees, blurring the line between shadows and solid objects.
I took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. My heartbeat was still slightly faster than normal, my body felt fatigued, and there was lingering discomfort from my wounds.
I couldn't stay here too long.
I needed water.
With careful movement, I tried to stand up. My weight shifted to my feet gradually. My muscles felt slightly stiff, but still obedient. My right knee trembled briefly before stabilizing again, and I adjusted my balance until I could stand upright.
When I finally stood fully, my vision spun for a moment. My head felt light, and the edges of my sight blurred momentarily. I immediately leaned one hand against the nearest tree trunk, letting my body adapt.
In that position, my gaze inadvertently dropped, catching the state of my own body.
My clothes could hardly be called intact. The uniform I once wore was torn in many places. My skirt was ripped and soiled with dirt and dried blood. My top wasn't much better, its fabric torn, some parts hanging loosely. Beneath it, all that remained was undergarments that were no longer clean either.
I let out a slow sigh.
Half-naked, weak, and standing alone in the middle of a night forest.
The thought to feel uncomfortable, or ashamed, crossed my mind. But it didn't last. There was no one here. No eyes to judge, and no one who cared.
And more importantly, I had no choice.
I couldn't fix these clothes now. I couldn't go back to how I was. Survival was far more important than thinking about useless things.
I shifted my gaze and refocused on my balance. My hand was still pressed against the tree trunk, my breath going in and out slowly until the dizziness gradually subsided.
My body wasn't fully recovered. Some parts still felt stiff and uncomfortable, but overall I could still move well. That was enough for survival.
Now, water.
I needed to find a clean water source. The problem was, I didn't know exactly where I was now. The pond I found before was just a coincidence. I didn't know if this forest held other water sources, and if it did, I didn't know how far they were from where I stood.
When fleeing from the troll, I ran without direction. No calculation, no plan. Just one goal: to get as far away as possible.
But strangely, even though I was panicked then, my brain still recorded something. The fragments of the path I took didn't just disappear. From where I stood now, I could still remember the direction toward the troll's territory, turns in the ground, the slope of the path, even the positions of some large trees I passed while fleeing.
This memory might be useful someday, if I become stronger I can fight that troll again. But for now, I had to find water first.
I sharpened my hearing, trying to catch the sound of flowing water. But all I heard was silence, interspersed with wind touching leaves and tree trunks.
No river sound. No trickling water. Just a silent forest.
That meant there was no flowing water nearby, or at least not close enough for me to hear.
I observed the terrain around me. This forest was relatively flat, but there was a gentle slope in one direction. It was hard to determine cardinal directions without stars as a guide, but that slope was consistent enough to hold onto.
Water flows downhill.
If I followed that direction, I would most likely find a place where water collects.
That was the only reasonable choice.
With my decision firm, I began walking down the slope. My steps were slow and measured, not out of hesitation, but because I chose to be cautious.
The ground under my shoes felt damp, making my footing occasionally slippery when my feet stepped on protruding roots. My body still felt heavy, with residual stiffness in some parts, but my steps remained steady and unwavering.
My mind now had a direction. And that made the steps feel lighter.
Every few dozen steps, I paused briefly. I'd find a tree with bark soft enough and scratch it with a sharp stone I picked up from the ground, a simple cross mark, pointing in the direction I had come from.
At points that were easy to miss, especially near natural intersections, I also arranged a few small stones as simple markers. Not neat, and not conspicuous, but clear enough for me to recognize when I had to pass the same path again.
These were trail markers I would use later, if I forgot.
The path back to the troll's territory.
The mist gradually thickened as I continued down the slope. The damp air clung to my already-wet shoes. Visibility became more limited, yet my steps remained stable.
Time was hard to measure in darkness like this. Without clear changes in light or sound, every step felt the same, as if the distance ahead never truly decreased. Yet I didn't stop.
The thirst pressed relentlessly on my throat, not as a sharp pain, but as a constant discomfort that persisted. Swallowing brought no relief. My lips were dry, and my body had gone too long without water. That condition alone was enough to force me to stay focused on one goal.
My steps slowed as my hearing caught a sound ahead. Not the wind. There was a faint rustling among the leaves and damp soil.
I stopped.
My body tensed slightly, my center of gravity lowering without me realizing. I shifted my gaze toward the sound, piercing the thin mist between the trees.
Just a wolf. That was nothing new. I had faced them before.
It stood a few meters ahead of me, facing away from my direction. Its body wasn't large, and its fur was dark, almost merging with the shadows. Its head was low, and its nose close to the ground, clearly tracking something
It hadn't noticed my presence yet.
I assessed the distance, wind direction, and footing positions around me. My muscles did still feel stiff, but facing a single wolf like this should still be within my capability. Even so, I didn't need an open fight.
I moved first.
My movement remained silent. I took short steps, one by one, careful not to disturb the ground under my feet. When the distance was close enough, I pushed my body forward and began to move.
My hand rose, and in one quick motion, my nails sank into the side of the wolf's head.
"GRRRRAKKKH"
Its body jerked, then fell to the ground with a brief movement that immediately stopped.
I stood over it for a moment, ensuring no follow-up movement.
Only then did I take a breath.
No additional pain. Just tension in the muscles that had worked quickly, then slowly subsided.
I took a step back, then shifted my gaze away from the carcass.
No time for anything else.
Water was still more important.
I returned to the marked path, following the slope of the land and the faint scent still lingering in the air. The mist swallowed my view again, and my steps became regular once more.
After some time, changes began to be felt under my feet. The ground grew softer and wetter, while the moss on the tree trunks grew thicker and darker in color. The air around me changed too, carrying a stronger smell of damp soil, mixed with a faint yet distinct fresh scent.
Water.
The smell wasn't sharp or pungent, but clear enough to recognize and confirm I was heading in the right direction.
I quickened my pace a little, still within safe limits for my body. The terrain continued to descend, and ahead appeared a small depression almost entirely covered by thick fog. My view reached only a few meters ahead; the rest dissolved into vague shadows that gave no definite shape.
I kept moving forward, following the direction of the scent, letting my senses guide my steps without hurry.
Then I saw it.
Through the mist, the water's surface reflected the weak moonlight. The reflection wasn't bright, but clear enough to confirm what I was seeing.
A body of water.
Through the fog, there was a fractured reflection of moonlight on the water's surface. Not bright, not striking, but clear enough to be sure it wasn't an illusion. There is a pool over there, nestled in a natural hollow among the roots of large trees.
My body reflexively wanted to move faster. The thirst immediately pressed on my mind, urging me to get closer. But my waist gave another signal of discomfort, forcing me to slow my steps and lower my heel first with each stride, ensuring every foothold was truly stable.
And that was when I realized something else.
I stopped.
The water wasn't alone.
At the edge of the pool, partly hidden by the mist and the shadows of the trees, something was moving slowly. Its body was long and it was bowed down.
I narrowed my eyes, forcing my focus to pierce through the mist.
A large lizard.
Very large.
Its length was probably around four meters from head to tail tip. Its body was slender but clearly muscular, its chest rising and falling slowly as it breathed. Its scales looked thick and hard even from this distance, reflecting the moonlight with a dull gleam. Its color was dark, a mix of deep green and black, making it blend almost perfectly with the damp soil and moss around it.
It was drinking.
Its head was bowed toward the water, its tongue moving occasionally, creating small ripples on the pool's surface. Its long tail stretched out behind, partly coiled on the ground, partly hidden by the mist. Every movement was slow, controlled, as if it felt no threat at all.
"Damn…"