Even though Shaun was athletic, he hadn't had many brushes with nature, making this experience entirely new to him.
Shaun's initial strategy had been methodical: set a series of traps at strategic points, using natural choke points and animal trails to increase his chances of success—strategies he was very much improvising from a few YouTube videos and TV shows. He planned to climb to a high vantage point, where he could observe the area undetected, then wait for something to get caught. From his elevated position, he would have a clear view and the element of surprise.
But as he stood on the forest floor, the reality of his situation sank in. The descent had taken a far greater toll on him than anticipated. By the time he reached the forest floor, the sun was already past the eighth hour. After scouting his surroundings and marking his territory, he had maybe 14 hours before he needed to climb back up. With his hands and feet raw and aching from the descent, the thought of the ascent—a tougher and more time-consuming task—seemed daunting.
Shaun's initial sense of resolve wavered. His plan, which had seemed so practical in theory, now felt reckless. The forest, with its towering trees and oppressive silence, was nothing like the tame wilderness he'd imagined. This was a place where a single mistake could be fatal. He needed to adapt his plan to survive. At the very least, he needed to let the blood dry on his hands and feet. Looking at how far even the lowest branches were on the trees here, forget climbing back up, he'd be lucky if he didn't leave a bloody arrow pointing right at him to every passing beast.
He began pacing through the dense undergrowth, searching for a compact spot he could squeeze into between the towering trees. Selecting a suitable spot, he pressed his hand against the rough bark of a nearby tree. As he activated the trap, a faint blue rune flashed momentarily before disappearing into the tree.
After a pause, he repeated the action just an arm's length away on the opposite tree, and the last trap he set about a foot away on the ground, opting to stack the traps in one small area.
Shaun's caution stemmed from a simple fact: he had never tested these skills before and wasn't confident in their reliability. If a creature broke free from the trap, he wasn't sure he could fend it off, let alone kill it. Even if he managed to, the effort would likely worsen his injuries, making the climb back up even more daunting—if he could move at all.
Rather than risking an aerial ambush, Shaun opted for a more cautious approach: he would hide and wait for his prey to come to him. After setting the traps, he smeared mud over his body and gear, carefully mixing in pebbles and grass to blend with his surroundings. Satisfied with his camouflage, he positioned himself in the hiding spot, ready to observe any creature caught in his trap before deciding whether to strike. At this distance, he would have the advantage—too close for the creature to react.
As he settled into his hiding place, Shaun's thoughts began to wander. The solitude of the jungle brought memories of his former life flooding back. He remembered the comfort of his childhood home, the scent of his mother's cooking, and the laughter of his siblings as they squabbled over trivial things. Those were simpler times, filled with warmth and love—worlds apart from the cold, indifferent wilderness surrounding him now.
The contrast was stark, almost painful. Back then, his biggest worries were exams, relationships, and what his future might hold. Now, he was living moment to moment, his very survival hanging by a thread. He wondered how things had spiraled so far out of control. How had he ended up here, alone, with nothing but memories of a world that no longer existed?
He pictured his grandparents' house, a place of refuge where time seemed to slow down. His grandmother's gentle humming as she tended her garden, his grandfather's stories of adventure—all these memories felt distant, like echoes from a life that no longer existed. Shaun had always admired his grandfather's tales, fancying himself a hero, but now that he was living his own story of survival, he realized how much he had taken those moments for granted.
A deep pang of regret welled up inside him. He had taken those days for granted, assuming they would always be there—assuming that he would always have time. Now, time was his enemy, slipping through his fingers like sand. He wished he had appreciated those moments more, that he had been more present. But there was no going back. All he could do was hold on to the memories, let them guide him, and hope they would be enough to keep him grounded in this new, terrifying world.
His thoughts drifted to his friends, the ones who had always been there for him. They had shared countless moments—late-night talks, suburban adventures, and the unspoken bond that they'd always have each other's backs. Now, in this unforgiving jungle, Shaun wondered where they were, if they were even alive. The realization that he might never see them again tightened like a vice around his heart.
And then there was her—the girl who had once meant everything to him. But her memory was different, foggier, like trying to grasp smoke. He could vaguely remember the sound of her laughter, but it was just out of reach. Her face, once so vivid in his mind, was now a blur, the details slipping away whenever he tried to focus on them. He could recall the way she made him feel—safe, understood, loved—but the specifics, the little things that had once been so clear, were elusive. He struggled to remember the exact shade of her eyes or the sound of her voice. It was as if time had eroded those memories, leaving only fragments that teased him with their familiarity. Despite the fog, those memories still brought him a sense of warmth and strength, even as they filled him with a deep, aching sense of loss.
A sharp snap in the underbrush jolted Shaun from his thoughts. His heart raced as he instinctively reached for the hunting knife at his side. The forest had been deathly quiet, and the sudden noise felt like a gunshot in the silence. He strained his ears, trying to pick up any sound, any movement. But there was nothing—just the oppressive silence pressing in on him from all sides.
As the memories tugged at his heart, Shaun couldn't shake the eerie sensation that he was being watched. The jungle's silence was unnatural, as if the entire forest was holding its breath, waiting. Every rustle of leaves, every flicker of shadow, set his nerves on edge. His instincts screamed at him to stay alert, to be ready for anything. He couldn't help but feel that the forest was alive in a way that went beyond mere vegetation. It was as if unseen eyes were tracking his every movement, biding their time.
He tightened his grip on the knife, his palms slick with sweat. For a moment, he thought he saw something—a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, a shadow that didn't belong. But when he turned to look, there was nothing there. Shaun's pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out the quiet hum of the forest. The feeling of being watched, of something lurking just out of sight, gnawed at him, heightening his sense of vulnerability.
After a moment of reflection, Shaun refocused on the task at hand. He opened a can of food, its bland taste doing little to lift his spirits. He left some scraps in the can and placed it at the center of the trap, briefly considering using blood as bait. But he dismissed the idea, knowing it would likely attract a carnivore. While herbivores and carnivores posed their own dangers, the instinctual behavior of the latter worried him more. Most herbivores would likely flee during an attempt on their life. Carnivores would quickly size him up. Feeling a little insecure about his position in the predatorial food chain, he figured he'd be lucky if that encounter didn't end up with him on the menu instead.
After masking the scent of the canned food from his hands with more mud, Shaun focused on charging his traps. Unlike his usual routine of pushing himself to the brink of exhaustion, he took care to conserve his energy—he needed to stay sharp. Any lapse in concentration could prove fatal in this hostile environment.
As the hours slipped by, Shaun's patience began to wear thin. Though he'd managed to replenish the traps he'd used, he couldn't shake the feeling that this trip had been a waste. He could've been more productive on the mountain, where he had the freedom to move and work on other tasks. With only six hours left before he'd need to start his ascent, he knew he still had to procure food, water, and perhaps some sturdy branches to fashion into makeshift tools. He hesitated to gather materials now, wary of leaving tracks that animals might notice and either avoid or use to stalk him.
Just as he was about to give up and start preparing for the climb, a sudden whoosh broke the silence, followed by the crackling of the trap and the startled squeal of an animal. Shaun's heart raced—his first catch!