He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and his trembling hands stabbed the wolf in the head.
His hand was immediately met with a mushy and wet feeling. It was blood. He opened his eyes a little to peak at the scene in front of him and his eyes widened. He staggered back and fell on the ground. His hands were supporting his body from lying flat on the mud. His left hand covered his mouth at the horror in front of him.
I knew I couldn't do this. He thought before he felt a familiar feeling.
Squilch
A liquid rising up from his stomach. He turned his body was kneeling on the floor.
Blargh
He heaved, his body expelling whatever little remained in his stomach. slowly, he staggered back from the mess, his whole-body trembling. He supported himself and got back on his feet. He sniffled and looked down.
His eyes were tearing up, he wiped them and covered his hands on his face. What am I even doing here? he wondered, wiping his eyes with trembling fingers, only to have fresh tears well up. He sniffled, his face stained with dirt and sweat.
He was sitting with his legs drawn up while setting and put his head on them, He felt so small, so weak, so out of place in this harsh world that seemed to want him dead at every turn.
"I wish this can end." he whispered, voice barely audible. He buried his face in his hands, pressing his palms into his eyes, hoping to block out the reality closing in around him. For a fleeting moment, He mumbled like a mad man, "I hope when I open my eyes to my familiar, messy bedroom. My cat's warm purring, the posters on his wall—anything but the cold ground beneath me.
More than anything, I wish I could make them proud."
He hugged his knees tightly, trying to find some comfort, some warmth, but there was none. The ground was cold. He was alone, stranded in a place that didn't care if he lived or died.
He felt an enormous weight on him, pressing down until he could hardly breathe. Every part of him hurt, not just from the wounds but from the endless struggle just to survive in this shitty world.
…..
An hour later.
"Haaa" He yawned and stretched.
"Haaa…" Theo stretched, yawned, and forced a shaky laugh. "Damn, that was embarrassing. Glad no one saw that…" His cheeks flushed as he quickly wiped away the remnants of his tears.
He took a glance at the wolf. "According to Mr. Cage, A normal wolf would weigh 40'ish Kg but this thing is huge…hmm but it's pretty skinny."
While taking a weary glance at the cave the wolf came from, he took a few stones from his coat and threw it at the entrance of the cave and at the walls of the cave.
"Nothing.." his eyes were constantly scanning for threats but he could find none.
After all that had happened, his senses were on high alert.
Guess I'm safe… for now. He held the dagger in his hands while pointing at the cave and moving towards it, slowly but surely. If it's safe then this would be a good place to stay, I don't know how to make those tents out of leaves.
He walked towards the dark cave and reached its entrance, Due to it being the afternoon the sun was almost at its all-time high, He could see inside the tunnel, albeit with a little difficulty.
He walked inside and his eyes were widened.
He saw 6 wolves.
6 dead and decaying wolves to be exact. Some of them had bite marks on them, as if bitten by another wolf. Were they fighting each other or was it that wolf? Was that why it looked so weird? he mused while thinking about the wolf he had just killed.
He walked closer towards the bodies of the wolves.
"Arrows?" He said with a gasp. The tower, the giant wolf, and now this. This was the third sign he might be somewhere far beyond his world.
'Well, it could be from some tribal place. Africa does have a lot of tribes.' He wondered if the arrow could have been from some tribe and the tribe was the one hunting these animals.
"Huh?"
The 6 wolves were scattered across a strange circle on the ground.
He walked back a little and bent down, he saw a few Greek looking words on the circle.
The circle was red in color, It looked like some sort of rune. Some sort of…
"Sacrifice?" The circle had a smaller semi-circle with many runes etched between. It looked incredibly old and dusty. The middle of the "rune" had many lines and boxes that oddly connected to each other.
He wanted to take a closer look at the rune, so he slowly stepped forward.
And.
He felt that feeling again.
That pull.
He sighed and procured his dagger from his pocket and sure enough.
The rune on the floor started glowing a slight red, as if communicating, the dagger started to hum a low tone.
The dagger started shaking and he felt that familiar magnetic sensation.
"Do they think I'm stupid?" he muttered, backing away. Six dead animals in a blood-red circle? Nope. Not going anywhere near that. Real world or not there's no way in hell that I'm going there. That shit looks ominous as hell, what if I get cursed.
He didn't believe in things like curses and ghosts, he was a realist but he also sort-of believed in them at times. Like an agonist.
He walked backward while looking around in the cave. Other than the animals and circle. There were small mushrooms growing in the corner of the cave and there were small stone stalactites poking from the roof.
*Growl*
He suddenly became battle ready; he already had the dagger out and he was holding it warily while looking around, trying to find the source of the growl.
Oh… His face was tinged with a bit of red. I see, I'm hungry.
The only thing to eat in the cave was…. Those mushrooms? They looked tall and dusty.
Nope.
The wolves? Their green-tinged fur made his stomach churn. Eating one of them wasn't an option.
He glanced out the cave entrance. The wolf he had killed lay there—his prey, if he could even call it that.
He walked outside the cave and slowly dragged the wolf inside the cave.
He was back in the familiar, damp and dark cave. He dropped the wolf a little far from the rotting corpse.
With a weary sigh, he gathered his sticks and stones and stepped outside once more, searching for a spot under a tree's shade. He laid down the sticks, arranging them in a rough teepee shape, and carefully built a ring of stones around the pile to contain the fire.
He found a thin, sturdy branch and, with his dagger, carved the end into a sharp point. Pressing his hands against the stick, he twisted it against a dry piece of wood, the pressure rough on his aching fingers. His arms tensed with each rotation, and his shoulders burned and pained, but he kept going, focusing on each rotation and hoping to see smoke.
He did this for about 10 minutes, but he did not succeed. This is literally how Mr. Cage did it… What do I do now? It clearly isn't working. He took back his things from the ground and put them back in his trench coat's pockets.
He looked around for dry leaves trying to gather enough for a fire.
Suddenly
Rumble.
He looked up, He was met with a dark and gloomy sky. He heard the crackle and clap of thunder. His mood became somber.
"How do I start a fire now...?" he wondered.
Patter.
A raindrop fell on his head.