Caleb woke to a strange stillness. His body felt less burdened with exhaustion, more rested than in days. No restless tossing and turning, no strange noises to interrupt his sleep. For the first time in a while, he felt like he'd actually slept.
The morning light was just beginning to filter through the cracks in his shelter as he sat up, rubbing the stiffness from his limbs. Slowly, he pushed the door open and stepped outside, half-expecting to see another smooth stone waiting for him. But there was nothing. No sign of last night's visitors. No stone, no footprints, no warning.
That's strange, he thought. After the way things had escalated, the silence felt more unnerving than any warning they had given him before. His eyes scanned the ground around the shelter one more time, but still, nothing. The absence was unsettling in its own way.
With a mix of relief and lingering anxiety, Caleb shook off the feeling and went about starting a fire. The embers from the previous night had long since cooled, so he gathered some kindling, sparking it into life as he set a pot of water to boil. As the flames crackled, he took stock of his supplies. His stomach rumbled as he eyed the last of his dried roots, their leathery texture far from appealing. This was it. His final meal before he had to find more food.
"Today, I have to get food," he muttered to himself. "No more waiting, no more pushing it off. If I don't come back with something... there won't be anything left." He boiled the roots in the water and chewed through the bland, tough meal. Not much, but it would have to do for now.
After eating, he sat quietly by the fire, checking over his clothes. His once-modern gear had deteriorated to near tatters. His jacket, now more patches than fabric, was a sad reminder of where he came from. Caleb ran his hand over the worn fabric, knowing it was barely holding together. But there was no fixing it. Not out here.
With a sigh, he grabbed his spear—a crude, hastily made weapon that felt both empowering and pathetic in his hands. It wasn't much, but it was all he had.
"Maybe I'll get lucky today," he thought, trying to inject some optimism into his bleak situation. "Maybe I'll stumble on a clumsy animal." He chuckled to himself as he headed into the woods. "Yeah, right. The only clumsy thing in these woods is me."
Caleb moved through the forest cautiously, his eyes and ears tuned to the wilderness around him. He made his way to the traps he had set earlier in the week, hidden beneath brush and leaves. He crouched down, hoping to find something. But trap after trap came up empty, each one more disappointing than the last. Frustration gnawed at his stomach, but he kept moving.
Just as he was about to give up and head deeper into the woods, a burst of color caught his eye—a small bush, its dark green leaves dotted with ripe blueberries. Relief flooded him as he rushed over, plucking them greedily. His hands moved faster than his mind, gathering as many berries as he could fit in his makeshift pouch. It wasn't much, but it was something.
He wiped his mouth, glancing around the area. Nearby, the faint imprint of large paw prints stood out in the soft dirt. Bear tracks. Old, but unmistakable. Caleb's heart quickened. They hadn't been near his camp yet, but if he wasn't careful, that could change. Bears were unpredictable, and with his dwindling supplies, the last thing he needed was to stumble into one unprepared.
"I'm safe for now," he muttered, examining the tracks. "But I better keep my guard up." He scanned the surrounding area, making sure the bear was long gone before he picked up his pace, heading back to camp.
By the time Caleb returned, the sun was dipping toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the clearing. He dumped his meager haul by the firepit—just a handful of berries and some small game he'd been fortunate to catch in one of his snares.
As the fire crackled, he sat back, staring at the flames, feeling a hunger he hadn't realized was gnawing at him. He feasted on the blueberries like a starving animal, devouring them with a desperation that surprised even him. Their sweet, tart juice filled his mouth, and for a brief moment, the world felt good again. He hadn't tasted something so fresh in what felt like forever. It wasn't meat, it wasn't anything substantial, but the fruit gave him a burst of energy he hadn't felt in days.
He leaned back, licking the juice from his fingers, staring into the fire as his mind wandered. Was this it? Was this how his life would be from now on—scrounging for scraps, living day to day, always waiting for the next threat? The uncertainty was maddening, the isolation crushing. Out here, there was no one to rely on but himself. No one to hear his thoughts, his doubts, his fears. The silence of the forest was a constant reminder that, in this place, he was truly alone.
"Is this what I was meant for?" he wondered aloud, the fire casting long shadows on his face. "Is this the life I chose... or the life that was chosen for me?"
The question hung in the air, unanswered, as he slowly stood and made his way back into the shelter. Caleb went through his routine, checking his gear, securing the door, and finally, lying down on his bedroll. The exhaustion from the day weighed heavy on him, but his mind was still restless, thoughts swirling as he stared at the dark ceiling above.
Eventually, sleep crept in, and with it, the unsettling feeling that the peace of the day wouldn't last forever. Out here, nothing ever did.
The quiet settled over the camp as the fire outside flickered one last time before dying out, leaving only the cold, silent night behind.