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His pulse still thundered in his ears as he slowly got to his feet, glancing around. He was in a field, the grass stretching out into the darkness in every direction. A few gnarled trees dotted the landscape, their twisted branches reaching up like skeletal hands toward the unfamiliar stars. The wind blew gently, rustling the grass and carrying strange, distant sounds—none of which felt comforting.
"What the hell…" he whispered, his breath visible in the chilly night air. His mind raced. This had to be some kind of dream, right? But the cold seeping through his jacket felt too real, as did the dampness of the ground beneath his shoes.
His hands twitched at his sides, and he suddenly realized they were empty. The grocery bags. He quickly scanned the ground around him, his heart skipping a beat. His eyes fell on the crumpled bags a few feet away, their contents spilling out onto the grass. He hurried over, kneeling down to gather them.
"Okay… soup cans, lighter, bread…" he muttered to himself, the routine of inventorying his things grounding him for a moment. He stuffed what he could back into the bags, glancing around nervously. At least he had something. No telling what kind of food—or dangers—this place held.
But where was this place?
The stars above him shimmered faintly, alien and cold. He'd never seen constellations like these, and the moon… no, that wasn't his moon. Too large. Too bright. This wasn't home.
Then came the sound—a low, distant howl, long and mournful, echoing across the plains.
His entire body tensed, the can of soup frozen in mid-air. That wasn't a coyote. Nor a wolf. It sounded too deep, too otherworldly.
And then, as if the world responded to his unease, the first drops of rain began to fall.
At first, it was a soft patter, but within moments, the rain intensified, a cold, steady downpour. It soaked through his jacket and plastered his hair to his forehead in seconds. The chill bit deeper now, and he shivered, looking around wildly. Instinct screamed at him to find shelter. Fast.
The field stretched on endlessly, broken only by the occasional tree. No buildings, no lights. Just the endless dark. His heart hammered in his chest. You're smart, he told himself. Think.
The trees—maybe they could provide some cover. He grabbed his bags and started moving toward the nearest one, his footsteps squelching in the now wet grass. The rain blurred his vision, but he kept his eyes focused on the gnarled silhouette of the tree ahead, its branches offering some small hope of protection.
Another howl cut through the rain, louder now—closer. His pace quickened, the rainwater splashing up against his legs as he nearly slipped. His mind raced. He wasn't sure what kind of creature made that noise, but he didn't want to find out.
Reaching the tree, he ducked beneath the low-hanging branches, leaning against the thick trunk. The shelter was sparse at best—the rain still dripped through the leaves—but it was better than being completely exposed in the field. He dropped his bags at his feet and pressed his back against the bark, the rough surface scratching through his damp jacket.
He fumbled for the lighter in his pocket, gripping it tightly. The cold metal in his hand gave him a shred of reassurance. Fire. He could use it for light, or maybe to scare off whatever was out there.
But then, through the steady drumming of the rain, he heard something else: soft, rustling footsteps. Not far away.
His breath caught. Someone—or something—was moving through the wet grass, heading straight for him.
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