The scarecrow woke up with a blank mind.

It barely knew anything, not when it had fallen asleep, or what its name was, or even what names were. But it could think, and in words, despite now knowing any languages at all. It was as if the thoughts had come with their own language.

iI had two black buttons on its face, one a bit larger than the other. They were eyes, and the scarecrow used them to look around the area. On its elbow there was a crow, and on the ground in front of it, there was a bunch of crows. It was as if the scarecrow was doing the opposite of what it was supposed to do.

It clearly wasn't, or had not been, a scary scarecrow. It didn't like that fact, and found the birds disrespectful, and honestly disgusting for even staying within his reach and especially on him. This hate for birds, and crows in particular, seemed to have come already inside the scarecrow since it woke up.

The scarecrow shrieked, a loud shriek, and the poor birds hadn't expected this in their wildest dreams. The birds jolted, and flew away, leaving a couple of feathers behind. It looked at them as they slowly became smaller, its head slowly rising up to watch the sky. What it saw there, made its heart race.

A grey bird larger than the great clouds, slowly soaring through the sky.

Like a fly's wings, the tiny heart inside its chest beat harder and faster. It tried to hold its chest, to feel the vibrations, but it had no hands nor fingers, nor tendons on its arms for that matter. It couldn't bend its arm to put it on its own chest, so instead, it pressed its arm inwards, towards the side of its chest, and felt the vibrations that way.

The scarecrow had a wish. It wanted to slaughter the bird. Whatever it was.

The scarecrow looked back down onto the floor. In the distance, it saw a pig snivelling on the ground, filled with wet shit. There was a cage made of thin sticks around it. The pig simply had to push them a little bit and they'd fall over. It wasn't the cage that kept it stuck, it was the mind.

At that exact moment, the scarecrow realized with its soul the difference between the pig and the bird. It was, the will to believe, the will to do whatever it pleases, power. That was its purpose, what it had come here to achieve.

It would become the greatest beast. Or it would die trying.

And as all great people have humble beginnings, so did the scarecrow. It had a pig to kill.

The scarecrow waddled over towards the pig. It fell over a few times but soon enough understood how to walk. Push one foot forward, regain balance, push another foot forward, regain balance. The scarecrow already had come into the world with some sense on how to walk, but it needed to sharpen that sense.

The scarecrow had reached the cage. It leaned over and thrusted the end of its arm, a sharp stick, into the pigs head. The pig squealed loudly. Dark red blood poured out at rapid speeds. The pig toppled over and died.

Ding! Ding! Ding! 3 experience points gained!

You have levelled up!

Please assign your attribute points. The decision will impact evolutionary routes.

The squares in the scarecrows vision were confusing. It shrieked again, but the boxes did not disappear. It wanted to spend more time on the boxes but it knew that a large danger came for it.

The farmer came running out with a rusty sword.

He was an old man, a fat one aswell, and the scarecrow could perhaps win a fight against the man. However, there was something inside it screeching at it to get away, as if the body's past experience with the man, before the scarecrow had come to being, was horrible. Perhaps he was the reason there were so many scars on the scarecrows chest.

The scarecrow turned around and started running for the forest. It did not stumble this time, but one of its feet got stuck in the ground and detached. Suprisingly, keeping balance on one leg felt easier for the scarecrow.

It jumped on one leg the rest of the way to the forest.