After a not-so-pleasant night, Jordan groaned as he sat up, his back stiff from leaning against the tree. He'd barely gotten any sleep—every rustle of leaves, every faint sound in the distance had kept him on edge. The forest felt alive, as if it were watching him, and that unsettling awareness lingered in the back of his mind.
The fire he'd painstakingly started the day before had died out. He stared at the cold ashes, sighing as he realized he hadn't kept it going. Sleep, or rather the lack of it, had won out over practicality.
"Guess it's time to get moving," he muttered, stretching his arms and trying to shake off the grogginess. The day ahead wasn't going to wait for him to feel rested.
He needed water, and he needed to figure out what to do next. Food would eventually run out, and this forest was clearly more dangerous than he had initially thought. Staying in one place felt safe for now, but deep down, he knew it wasn't a long-term solution.
Jordan glanced at the knife resting on the ground beside him. Picking it up, he turned it over in his hands. The core he'd placed in it the night before was still nestled in the slot, its faint shimmer barely noticeable in the morning light. For now, the blade remained unchanged, though the runes etched into its surface still gave him an uneasy sense of power.
"Alright, first things first," he said aloud, trying to psyche himself up. "Water. Food. And maybe… figure out what the hell I'm doing after that."
He stood, brushing dirt and ash off his pants, and grabbed a handful of the marked branches he'd used for the fire. It wasn't much, but it would help if he needed another flame later. Taking one last look at the extinguished fire pit, he adjusted his grip on the knife and started walking.
The forest felt different in the light of day. The trees, which had loomed like silent sentinels in the night, now seemed less menacing. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, dappling the ground in patches of warmth. Yet, the quiet was still there, unnatural and heavy, as though something unseen had hushed the world.
As he moved, Jordan kept an eye out for water. The distant sound of birds—though strange and alien in their calls—gave him hope that a stream or pond might be nearby.
This made the forest lively with noise unlike yesterday.
He also continued marking trees as he went, scratching them with his knife to avoid getting lost.
Survival wasn't just about staying alive, he reminded himself. It was about adapting. And if he wanted to survive in this world, he'd need to learn to do that quickly.
If Jordan remembered correctly, following birds and animals was usually a good way to locate a water source. It wasn't a guarantee, but it was better than wandering aimlessly. The creatures here were alien, nothing like Earth's wildlife, but the instinct to drink water had to be universal, right?
He kept his eyes peeled, watching the sky for the strange birds with their double sets of wings and listening for any movement in the forest. The silence was still unnerving, but every now and then, the distant calls of those birds reached his ears, giving him something to focus on.
Flowing water, he reminded himself, was usually safer to drink from than stagnant pools. It was far from perfect—he had no way to filter or purify it right now—but it was the best option he had. He'd have to take the risk of getting sick and hope for the best.
His thoughts drifted as he walked. Staying too close to the river, once he found it, would be dangerous. Predators—whether animal or human—would likely be drawn to the water, and the constant noise of flowing water could mask the sounds of something approaching. The pros of being near water were obvious, but the cons were greater.
"No sense in making myself an easy target," Jordan muttered. "Close enough to get what I need, far enough to not get ambushed."
He stopped for a moment, leaning against a tree to catch his breath. His stomach growled, still unsatisfied despite the meal he'd had the night before. The forest around him was dense, the tall trees seeming to stretch endlessly into the sky. A faint rustling caught his attention—a small, rodent-like creature darting between the underbrush.
He tightened his grip on the knife, half expecting the creature to attack, but it quickly disappeared. The sight gave him a little hope, though. If something that small could survive here, maybe he could, too.
Refocusing, he continued in the direction the birds seemed to be heading. His senses stayed alert for any signs of danger—or the sound of running water.
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Jordan didn't have to walk far before he found what he was looking for—a small but steady stream cutting through the forest. The water was clear, flowing over smooth stones with a quiet, almost soothing sound. It wasn't a large river by any means, but it was flowing, which was all he needed.
His attention was quickly drawn downstream, about twenty meters away. A group of the fanged rabbit-like creatures, around ten of them, were drinking from the riverbank. A potential food source, he noted. They lifted their heads briefly to look at him, their sharp fangs glinting in the sunlight, but quickly went back to drinking, seemingly uninterested in his presence.
Jordan followed the river with his eyes, watching as it wound its way around a cluster of rocks in the distance before disappearing into the dense forest. Upstream, it seemed to originate far away, likely from the tall mountain he could now see clearly. The towering peak had been hidden earlier by the canopy of trees, but now it loomed in the distance, imposing and massive. The incline of the land confirmed his suspicion—the water was flowing downhill from the mountain.
He walked a bit upstream, searching for a better spot to set up camp. He needed somewhere flat, somewhere defensible, and somewhere that offered an easy escape route if he was attacked. The memory of the slime and the fight with the fanged rabbit replayed in his mind, reminding him that danger was constant here.
The forest thinned slightly as he walked, and he soon spotted a small clearing not far from the stream. The ground was relatively flat, with a few large rocks scattered around that could serve as cover. It wasn't perfect, but it was a start. More importantly, it gave him a clear view of the stream and the surrounding forest, making it easier to spot anything—or anyone—approaching.
"This'll do for now," he muttered, stepping into the clearing. He dropped the sticks from his previous fire behind and began surveying the area, already planning how to make it as secure as possible. Survival was still his priority, and for now, this spot seemed like the best option.
He took a quick look around, he walked some ways away from the spot to check if the this place was flood proned, but the lush grass dismissed that. He also tested the rocks to see if the were loose. Checking for foot prints or droppings to confirm that animals didn't live here was also important.
After all that he decided to make a small shelter one enough to live in.As it was still relatively early in the morning he might be able to complete it by night time.
He took a deep breath as he was in for a tiring day.
He began by clearing the ground of debris, using his knife to scrape away sticks, stones, and clumps of grass. He needed a flat, clean surface to work on, both for comfort and to avoid attracting insects or dampness during the night. He also gathered dry leaves and grass, piling them to the side to use later as bedding.
Next, he searched the surrounding area for sturdy branches. He looked for ones about as thick as his wrist and long enough to form the skeleton of a lean-to. It took time to find pieces that were both strong and straight, but patience was key—this shelter had to last.
He decided on a simple lean-to design. Using one of the larger rocks as a back support, he leaned a long branch at an angle against it, creating a central support beam. Then, he found smaller branches to rest diagonally against the main beam, forming a triangular frame. To ensure stability, he wedged the bottom ends of the branches into the ground and reinforced the sides with small stones.
Once the frame was secure, he started insulating the shelter. He broke off clusters of leaves, moss, and bark from nearby trees, layering them over the frame like shingles. He worked from the bottom up, overlapping the materials to ensure rain would flow off the roof rather than seep through.
By midday, the roof was taking shape, but it still needed more insulation. He spent the next few hours collecting more debris—leaves, dry grass, and pine needles—and thickened the covering until no gaps remained. Satisfied that it could hold up against light rain, he turned his attention to the interior.
The dry leaves and grass he'd gathered earlier were spread inside as a makeshift mattress. He layered it thickly, creating a cushion that would provide both warmth and comfort. He even placed a few smaller rocks near the opening of the shelter, just enough to reflect the heat of a fire he planned to build later.
By late afternoon, the shelter was complete. It wasn't large—just enough space for him to sit or lie down—but it was sturdy and insulated. He took a step back to inspect his work. The lean-to blended well into the natural surroundings, which would also help keep him hidden from potential dangers.
Now, he turned his attention to gathering firewood. He needed enough to last through the night, especially if the temperature dropped. As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, he felt a small sense of pride. The shelter wasn't perfect, but it was his, and for the first time since finding himself here, he felt a little more in control.
With the shelter finished earlier than expected, he sat back and took a moment to inspect his work. It was simple—a lean-to made from angled branches and a thick layer of leaves and moss for cover—but it looked sturdy enough to get him through the night. He wasn't an expert, but the effort had paid off. The roof seemed capable of shedding rain, and the rock backing would help shield him from the wind.
With about three hours left before nightfall, he decided to use the extra time wisely. First, he gathered more debris—dry leaves, grass, and pine needles—to reinforce his bedding inside the shelter. It wasn't luxury, but it would keep him insulated from the cold ground.
Next, he moved a few flat rocks near the shelter's entrance, arranging them in a rough circle. It would serve as a small firepit. He collected dry sticks, twigs, and larger pieces of wood, careful to grab only what snapped easily, avoiding damp materials. Though he wasn't the best at starting fires, he knew having one would be critical for warmth and protection.
As he worked, he kept an eye on the sky. The sun was sinking, but he still had some light. He paused occasionally to scan the area for signs of danger—tracks, movement, or sounds—but all was still.
Finally, with the firewood stacked and ready, he walked a short distance to the river to rinse his hands and splash some water on his face. The coolness was refreshing after the day's work. He took a moment to watch the flowing water, its steady rhythm oddly calming.
Returning to the shelter. The knife was placed within easy reach, and he stacked some extra firewood near the entrance. Sitting down, he felt a small sense of accomplishment. The shelter wasn't perfect, but it was his. It would do for the night, and for now, that was enough.
With that he had to get something to eat, he made his way back down stream, to look for those fanged rabbits.
Jordan took one last glance at his shelter before heading downstream to hunt. The lean-to stood solid, blending well with the natural surroundings, and for the first time in this strange world, he felt a sense of purpose—something to work toward beyond mere survival. But survival still meant food, and his stomach had been reminding him of that fact for hours.
The late afternoon light filtered through the trees, casting long shadows over the forest floor. He kept his footsteps light, knife in hand, as he made his way toward the riverbank where he'd seen the fanged rabbits earlier. The sound of the flowing water grew louder as he approached, and he crouched low to avoid startling any potential prey.
Sure enough, a small group of the rabbit-like creatures was still grazing near the water's edge. They moved with a strange combination of alertness and indifference, their sharp fangs glinting in the fading sunlight. He counted six of them this time, scattered in a loose cluster downstream.
Jordan's heart quickened as he planned his approach. He couldn't afford to be reckless; he needed this meal. He observed their movements for a moment, noting how they twitched their ears and occasionally sniffed the air.
Picking his target—a smaller one slightly separated from the group—he began to move. He crouched low, stepping carefully to avoid snapping twigs or rustling leaves. The knife felt solid in his hand, a reassuring weight as he drew closer.
Just as he was within striking distance, one of the creatures raised its head, its sharp eyes scanning the area. Jordan froze, holding his breath. The rabbit's nose twitched, but it didn't seem to notice him. It turned back to the water, and he took that moment to pounce.
The struggle was quick but intense. The creature kicked and twisted, its fangs flashing dangerously close, but Jordan held firm, his knife finding its mark. Within moments, it was over. The other rabbits bolted, their powerful legs carrying them into the underbrush.
Jordan knelt over the lifeless creature, catching his breath. His hands were shaking slightly, the adrenaline still coursing through him. He wiped the knife on the grass before standing, lifting the rabbit by its legs. It was smaller than the one from yesterday but would still be enough to keep him fed.
He made his way back to the shelter, the fading light urging him to move quickly. By the time he returned, the sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. He set the rabbit down near the firepit and immediately began working on getting a fire started.
Once the flames caught, he repeated the process from the night before, carefully skinning and gutting the creature. This time, he was a little more efficient, the motions coming more naturally. He placed the meat on a stick over the fire, watching as it began to cook. This one also had a core which he placed in his top pocket.
As the smell of roasting meat filled the air, Jordan leaned back against the rock supporting his shelter, exhaustion settling in. It had been a long, tiring day, but he'd accomplished what he'd set out to do: water, shelter, and food.
For the first time since waking up in this world, he allowed himself a small smile. It wasn't much, but it was a start. He didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but for now, he had everything he needed to make it through the night. That, at least, was something.