"What have I done?" She murmured to herself, her eyes wide with horror as she gazed down at the naked body she now inhabited. She had removed the only covering she had , and was walking around the forest in all her glory.
She picked some big leaves and hastily wove them together to cover her nakedness.
" Great! What if someone had seen me like this?! "She stumbled through the forest, her strong legs firm with each step.
The canopy above blocked out the sun, casting a cool shade over the underbrush. The smell of damp earth and the faint scent of blooming flowers filled her nose, and she took a deep, shuddering breath.
Her stomach growled, a painful reminder of her new reality. She hadn't eaten in... she wasn't even sure how long. The last thing she remembered was the warmth of the fire in her small cottage, the taste of the stew she had made with her last potato. Now she was here, in this mystical world, with nothing but the leaves on her back and a gnawing hunger.
The sounds of the forest grew louder, each snap of a twig or rustle of a leaf sending her heart racing. She knew the dangers that lurked within these woods, having heard the stories of mythical beasts and vengeful gods that roamed these lands.
Her mind raced with the memories of the young girl whose life she now lived. The girl, once a waste of space in the eyes of the village, had suffered much before her untimely end. Her heart ached for the pain she had endured, but she knew that she had been given a second chance for a reason. The girl's memories whispered of hidden paths and edible berries, and the old woman's newfound youthfulness allowed her to move with a grace she hadn't felt in centuries. She followed the whispers, her eyes scanning the underbrush for signs of food.
The forest was a labyrinth of danger and opportunity, and she navigated it with a cautious determination that belied her frail exterior. She knew where to find the ripest berries, the cleanest water, and the safest places to rest. Her new body was weak, but the knowledge of the girl's past hardships fueled her. The old woman had seen much in her long life, but the trials of this mystical world were uncharted territory. Each step was a lesson in survival, each discovery a victory against the odds.
The whispers grew stronger as seconds passed. The girl's memories spoke of a cruel existence, one filled with ridicule and scorn. The villagers had seen her as nothing more than a burden, a worthless mouth to feed. But the old woman felt a fiery determination growing within her. She would not let this girl's suffering be in vain.
" Okay! This would do! "She picked up
a long straight branch from an ancient oak tree .
Using her newfound knowledge of the forest, she fashioned a weapon. She sharpened the stick to a fine point with stones from the riverbed. The stick was crude, but in her hands, it was a symbol of resilience. The feel of the smooth wood, the heft of it balanced perfectly, brought her a strange sense of comfort.
She practiced by swinging it in her hands, her movements awkward at first but growing more confident with each passing moment.
Blending into the shadows of the forest, she waited patiently for prey. The whispers grew quieter as she honed her instincts, listening for the rustle of leaves that didn't match the pattern of the wind, the scurry of small animals that signaled a disturbance. Her eyes, once dimmed by age, now saw with a clarity that pierced the veil of the underbrush. Her skin, once wrinkled and worn, now tanned and tightened with every hour of vigorous activity.
The stick she had shaped into a spear felt like an extension of herself. She had spent countless minutes practicing her throws, her aim growing more precise with each attempt. The sharpened point gleamed with the promise of a swift end to her hunger. Her hands had calloused from the constant contact with the rough bark, each hardened ridge a testament to her transformation.
An eerie silence fell over the forest as she sensed movement nearby. Her eyes darted to a break in the foliage, and she held her breath.
An unaware rabbit emerged from its burrow, its fur shimmering with an ethereal glow. The creature's eyes were unlike any she had seen before, swirling pools of blue and green, hinting at a spark of something otherworldly. The old woman's heart skipped a beat. This was no ordinary prey.
' My brunch… Stay and let me have you.' She licked her lips in anticipation.
The rabbit twitches its nose, sniffing the air curiously before hopping closer. It paused, seemingly oblivious to the predator poised just meters away. She knew she had to act quickly, lest she scared it away. Her grip on the spear tightened, her muscles taut. The girl's memories of hunger and desperation surged to the forefront of her mind, but the old woman's wisdom held firm. This was not just a meal; it was a sign, a test perhaps.
With a swift, silent motion, she threw the spear with all her strength. It soared through the air, the glowing rabbit frozen in time. For a brief moment, she saw the world as it truly was - a place of magic and wonder, where even the lowliest creature could hold the key to greatness. The spear struck true, piercing the rabbit's side with a soft thud. Its eyes widened, the swirling colors fading to a dull brown as it collapsed. The old woman felt a pang of regret, but it was swiftly overridden by a primal satisfaction. She had proven herself capable of surviving in this strange new world.
The villagers had dubbed her "The Witch of the Woods," whispering tales of her mystical prowess and the fierce beasts that fell to her makeshift spear. They watched from a distance, afraid to approach the girl who had once been their scorn. Yet, as she grew stronger, their whispers grew more curious. Some spoke of her with a begrudging respect, while others feared the power she might one day wield.
The process of butchering the rabbit was a dance of necessity and respect. . Her hands, though once gnarled with age, moved with a sureness that could only come from experience. She had skinned the rabbit with care, the fur coming away from the flesh with a whisper, revealing the tender meat beneath. The task had been gruesome, but it was a part of the cycle of life, and she had faced it with the stoicism of one who had seen much death.
The fire crackled and spat as she placed the carcass upon the makeshift spit. The smell of roasting meat filled the clearing, a tantalizing aroma that spoke of sustenance and life. The flames danced around it, coaxing out the flavors and nourishment she so desperately needed.
Her stomach rumbled in anticipation, a symphony of hunger that grew louder with each passing moment. As the rabbit cooked, she gathered herbs from the edge of the clearing, their scent mingling with the rich, earthy smell of the roasting animal.
Her knife was a simple blade, forged from a shard of metal she had found discarded in the woods, but it served its purpose well. She had skinned the rabbit with a precision that spoke of a lifetime of practice, the fur peeling away to reveal the lean muscles beneath. The girl's memories had shown her the way, guiding her hands with a gentle force that seemed almost supernatural. The creature had been a creature of the myths, but now it was food, a testament to her newfound skills.
With a sigh of satisfaction, she had skewered the rabbit onto the sharpened stick, the metal blade glinting in the firelight. The flames licked at the fur, sending embers spiraling into the night sky. She watched the transformation, the fur singering away to reveal the tender flesh beneath. The smell of the roasting meat filled the air, a sweet and savory perfume that promised sustenance and strength. Her mouth watered as the juices dripped into the fire, hissing and crackling as they were consumed by the flames.
Her movements grew more precise as she worked, each stroke of her knife a silent tribute to the life she had taken. The rabbit's fur peeled away easily, revealing the lean muscles that had once allowed it to dart through the forest with such speed. She took her time, careful not to waste a single piece of the creature that had granted her this opportunity for survival.
" Ugh… how careless of me ! How could I do this here? Instead of me eating, I would become food for them. " Flora slapped her forehead in anger. Was it hunger?
She looked around her surroundings. 'Weird… . No predator. Is it…'
She touched her forehead, where the amulet was embedded.
With a shrug, she settled comfortably and continued her earlier ministry.
Once the rabbit was skinned, she carefully dissected it, removing the organs with a gentle touch. The girl's memories had taught her that some parts were not for eating, that they held a power that could bring illness or worse. The rest she set aside, planning to use them for a stew that would warm her bones on the coldest of nights. The bones she cleaned meticulously, setting them aside for tools or perhaps even weapons. In this mystical world, every part of the hunt had a purpose.
The old woman took her time, ensuring that each piece of meat was prepared perfectly. She had learned from the memories that cooking the rabbit just right could unlock flavors that could rival the finest feasts . Her hands moved with a grace that belied her exhaustion, slicing and dicing the meat into pieces that would cook evenly over the fire. The crackle of the flames grew louder as she added more wood, the heat wrapping around her in a comforting embrace.
The rabbit's fur was a thing of beauty, soft and dense, and she took care not to damage it as she pulled it away from the body. The girl's memories had shown her that fur could be used for warmth and protection, and she had plans to make clothing that would shield her from the harsh elements of this mystical land. With the fur laid out before her.
Her knife glinted in the fading light as she worked, the blade slicing through the muscle with ease. Each piece of meat was meticulously trimmed and placed on a large leaf to keep it clean. The girl had not been much of a hunter in her short life, but the old woman's instincts took over, guiding her hands with a precision that surprised even herself. The smell of blood mingled with the aroma of the cooking fire, a primal scent that could drive the beasts nuts.
The rabbit's fur was a vibrant shade of blue, the color of a midnight sky kissed by moonlight. It was soft to the touch, almost unnaturally so, and she knew it would be warm against her skin. The process of skinning the animal was slow and deliberate.