Caleb woke with a violent shiver, his body aching and numb from the cold. He lay face down in the mud, the sound of rushing water filling his ears, the Ohio River coursing nearby. He blinked, groggy and disoriented, his vision hazy, struggling to make sense of his surroundings. His clothes were soaked through, clinging to his skin like a second, freezing layer.
His body throbbed with pain. He tried to push himself up, but the agony in his abdomen and arm flared. The arrows were still lodged in, their shafts sticking out of his flesh, keeping the bleeding at bay but offering no real relief. His leg was worse—bleeding steadily from the wound. The cold river water had slowed the flow, but it hadn't stopped it.
Caleb gasped, fighting the waves of dizziness that crashed over him. His mind screamed for him to move, but his body refused. Each breath was shallow, each movement torture. He was miles downstream, far from where the bone-clad figures had left him for dead, but in his current state, it didn't matter. Survival seemed just as distant.
He winced as a gust of wind sent a fresh wave of cold through his soaked clothes. His body ached from the cold, and the ground beneath him was wet and unforgiving. The river had carried him far, but he was stranded now, alone and wounded. With no fire, no shelter, and no supplies, the wilderness around him felt impossibly vast and indifferent.
Fire. That's what I need.
The thought hit Caleb like a punch in the gut. His body was numb, but he knew if he didn't get warm soon, the cold would claim him before the blood loss did. The fire was his only chance for survival—and he needed it for something else, something far worse: to close his wounds. The mere thought sent a shiver through him that wasn't from the cold.
He tried to push himself up, but his body wouldn't obey. His muscles were stiff, his joints aching, and the arrows still lodged in his flesh held him captive. The arrow in his leg was the worst; blood still seeped from the torn wound, staining the riverbank beneath him. His arm and abdomen ached where the shafts had broken off, but the lodged arrows slowed the bleeding there. It was the only reason he hadn't bled out yet.
With a groan, Caleb started crawling, inching his body over the cold, wet earth. No flint, no steel, no knife—everything useful was gone. He had to rely on what little nature gave him. His hand fumbled over the damp ground, searching desperately until he found it—a few dry twigs tucked beneath a rock, hidden from the river's moisture. He pulled them closer, his breath shallow, heart pounding in his chest.
It wasn't much, but it had to do. He dragged himself further, gathering a bit more tinder: dry grass, leaves, even the remnants of bark that had peeled from nearby trees. He cursed the absence of his tools with every inch he crawled. His old life felt so distant, and he missed the gear that had once made these tasks bearable. How had it come to this? Struggling to survive with nothing but his bare hands.
Shivering violently, he grabbed two small stones, rough and jagged, from the riverbank. He smashed them together, over and over, hoping for even the faintest spark. His body screamed in protest with every strike, each motion a monumental effort.
Finally—after what felt like hours—a small ember appeared. His heart raced as he blew on it gently, coaxing the fragile flame to life. His breath shook as the tiny fire grew, flames licking the dry twigs he had collected.
Relief washed over him as the warmth crept toward his frozen limbs, but the sight of his wounds brought him back to harsh reality. He still had to deal with the arrows.
I need to seal them… I need to burn them closed.
The thought alone sent bile rising in his throat, but it was his only option. He reached for a smooth, flat stone, one just large enough to heat up. He placed it carefully into the flames, watching the heat turn its surface red. The firelight flickered against his face, casting shadows that made him look as worn and torn as he felt.
His breath trembled as he stared at the arrows still lodged in his flesh. He broke the shaft sticking out of his arm first, snapping it off close to the skin. The pain was excruciating, and a choked scream escaped his throat. He didn't have the strength to pull the arrow out just yet—not without passing out. The leg came next, the shaft breaking with a sharp crack. Blood gushed from the open wound, and his vision swam.
The rock was glowing hot now, nearly white at the edges. Caleb reached for it with a trembling hand, wrapping his fingers in his tattered sleeve to protect them.
I can't… I can't do this, he thought, staring at the burning stone in his hand.
But then the memories flooded back—of everything he had been through, the struggle, the pain, the endless fight for survival.
I've survived worse. This is just another test. I can endure this.
His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as he braced himself. He gritted his teeth, biting down so hard it felt like his jaw might shatter. With a final deep breath, he pressed the glowing stone to the wound on his leg.
The smell of burning flesh filled the air as a searing pain shot through his entire body. He let out a guttural scream, the sound ripping through the silent night. His body convulsed, instinctively pulling back from the unbearable heat, but he forced the stone down harder, determined to stop the bleeding. His skin crackled under the pressure, sizzling as the fire cauterized the wound.
Tears streamed down his face, his body shaking violently, but he didn't stop. His abdomen came next. He pressed the stone against the torn flesh, the heat scorching his skin. The pain was so intense that black spots danced across his vision. He gasped, every muscle in his body trembling with the effort not to pass out.
Finally, he lifted the stone to his arm. His vision swam, but he knew he had to finish it. One more wound to close. He pressed the stone to his arm, the last burst of agony nearly sending him into oblivion.
When it was over, the stone fell from his trembling hand, landing beside the fire with a dull thud. Caleb collapsed back onto the cold ground, his breath shallow, body drenched in sweat and smeared with blood. Pain roared through him, but the intense heat of the burns had forced the bleeding to stop.
For now, he had done it. He had survived.
His vision blurred, the adrenaline ebbing away and leaving him utterly drained. The fire's warmth flickered weakly against the cold air, but it wasn't enough. His body, pushed past its limits, finally surrendered.
The world around him grew distant, his senses dulling as he slipped into unconsciousness, the crackling fire the last sound he heard before darkness claimed him entirely.