The forest of Marakad bathed in the golden light of evening was alive with quiet sounds. A squirrel, nibbling on the rare and elusive naga fruit, was savoring the delicacy it had found. The fruit's unique sweet and bitter flavor was irresistible, and the squirrel, like many others of its kind, had a habit of collecting these fruits for their delightful taste. However, as it enjoyed its meal, something caught its attention—a human.
The human appeared frail and dangerously close to death, pale and barely able to stand. His leg was soaked in blood, and his breathing was shallow, the result of both exhaustion and severe blood loss. The squirrel's instinct urged it to help. Dropping the remnants of its fruit, it dashed off to the nearby town, pausing occasionally to ensure that the human was following.
The squirrel had no other choice. Its small, nimble body zipped through the forest toward the east, where the giant town of Marakad lay hidden. With luck, it could lead Aleck to someone who might save him.
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The town of Marakad was hidden deep within the eastern part of the Marakad forest, nestled between towering cliffs and thick greenery. It was a sanctuary for the giant race, a place where they lived in relative peace, cultivating their land and defending it from the dangers that lurked in the surrounding wilderness.
On a refreshing evening, Bruce, a towering giant with a calm, yet determined expression, was making his rounds in the Marakad forest. As a seasoned gatherer and healer, Bruce was on a mission to collect moon flowers and naga fruits, valuable medicinal herbs and fruits used to treat injuries related to curses and energy infections.
It had been a busy day for Bruce. Earlier, he and his wife had spent hours finding a swordsmanship teacher for their son, wanting the best mentor to guide the boy's growing interest in the sword. Now, his focus was on fulfilling his other duty—restocking the local medicinal shop with the rare herbs necessary for the town's well-being.
Bruce's trained eyes scanned the trees as he moved. He was particularly on the lookout for a Sun squirrel, a rare species identifiable by the three white stripes on their back—markings that, legend said, were bestowed by the Sun God himself. The story went that these stripes represented the Sun god's three fingers as he petted them in gratitude when the squirrels had shared their fruits with him out of kindness in ancient times. More importantly, the Sun squirrels had a peculiar immunity to curses and illusions due to the markings, allowing them to detect and consume the naga fruit without falling victim to its potent curse.
The naga fruit, while beneficial in healing, was also dangerous, laden with a curse that could drain the energy of anyone who ate it without protection. Only the Sun squirrels, immune to such curses, could locate these fruits and eat them directly. Giants, though powerful, relied on these squirrels to track down the precious resource.
Bruce's thoughts were interrupted by an unusual scent in the air—a thick, coppery smell that made his senses go on high alert. Blood.
He stopped, inhaling deeply. Blood in the air usually means wolves... The wolf monsters that haunted this part of the forest were vicious, always on the hunt. Had they returned?
Bruce immediately went on high alert, his body tensing as he reached for the massive hammer strapped to his back. Wolf monsters, these creatures were vicious predators, always lurking on the edges of Marakad, waiting for a chance to strike. The eerie silence that followed the blood scent only heightened Bruce's wariness. It was a hunter's silence—the kind that came just before an ambush.
But then, Bruce saw it—a Sun squirrel darting through the ground at breakneck speed, heading straight for him. Behind the squirrel, a kid stumbled, barely able to keep up. The boy's leg was coated in blood, and he looked ready to collapse at any moment.
"A kid? Out here?" Bruce thought, his suspicion rising. It wasn't normal for kids to be this deep in Marakad forest, especially in such a condition.
"#$$, … ***$###$"
The boy muttered something unintelligible, his voice weak and raspy from the effort of staying conscious. Bruce crouched low, his giant frame towering over the young figure.
"Are you alright, kid?" he asked, his deep voice resonating through the trees.
But Aleck was too far gone to respond. His words slurred into an incomprehensible murmur, and then, without warning, he collapsed into unconsciousness, the weight of exhaustion and blood loss finally too much to bear.
Bruce eyed the boy warily for a moment. Where had he come from? Why was he alone in this forest? Still, he couldn't ignore the urgency of the situation. The boy's injuries were severe, and if he didn't get help soon, he would die. The Sun squirrel, now at Bruce's feet, looked up at the giant expectantly, as if to say, 'Do something.'
"Well, if a Sun squirrel trusts you..." Bruce murmured, making up his mind. Sun squirrels never lied—they were sacred creatures, blessed by the gods themselves. If this one had led the boy to him, there had to be a reason.
With a heavy sigh, Bruce gently lifted the unconscious Aleck into his massive arms. "Let's get you to the town," he said, turning to the squirrel. It scampered up a nearby tree, its role in the rescue complete, before disappearing into the dense foliage.