As the bird soared away into the horizon, disappearing from view, a certain prey, thought to be lifeless, stirred from her sleep, roused by the pangs of hunger. And oh, what a delightful scene awaited her upon waking!
My stomach rumbled with a fierce urgency, clearly unhappy with my decision to skip breakfast—a habit my body had grown quite attached to. As I blinked awake, I anticipated the cozy embrace of my bed, but the hard surface beneath me suggested I might have taken an unexpected tumble.
A wave of confusion washed over me as I took in my surroundings. It took a moment for my brain to catch up, but then a rush of recent memories flooded back. No way! I glanced around again, not spotting the massive bird but noticing a nest nearby, and everything clicked. I was supposed to be a snack for those little eggs, but somehow, I had been mistaken for a lifeless object. Thank goodness I had been out cold—who knows what that bird might have done otherwise!
My eyes landed on the ten eggs surrounding me, each as large as an ostrich egg, their smooth white shells looking absolutely tempting. The cave was small, with deep claw marks etched into the walls, a clear sign of the bird's impressive strength and sharp talons.
This cave had been crafted by the bird's powerful claws, and the thought was both awe-inspiring and a bit terrifying. A fine layer of sand surrounded the eggs, perfect for cooking, but the uncertainty of how long the bird had been gone and how long I had been out was unsettling. Peering outside, I noticed rocks that looked like rough-hewn stairs, suggesting I wasn't the first to stumble upon this place.
What a relief! Below, a dense forest stretched out, with a small village visible in the distance. If I could make my way there, I might find safety. The idea of navigating through the woods after my earlier encounter with the spider was daunting, but if push came to shove, I could always toss a few eggs to distract any pursuers. With my mind made up, I felt ready to dive into my next adventure.
I was in a bit of a time crunch and cooking was definitely not on my agenda, but there was no way I could just leave all that scrumptious food behind. So, I shrugged off my jacket and carefully cradled the eggs, one by one, checking their sturdiness. Satisfied, I tucked them into my jacket along with a bit of sand, zipped it up, and fashioned it into a makeshift sack. With a little adjustment, I slung it over my back and secured it around my arms. It sat there quite comfortably, and I stepped out of the nest, planting my feet firmly on the rugged rocks beneath me.
The wind whipped against my side, catching me off guard and making my feet wobble a bit. I crouched down, grounding myself against the cliffside as the gust finally passed. Peering down, I was taken aback by the ground swaying far below—wow, I was perched four times higher than the tallest tree around!
I crouched lower and shuffled to the edge of the step. It was clearly designed for someone much larger than a human woman. Am I even human anymore? Not the time for existential musings, though. I'd save that for when I reached a safer spot or after this shift everyone keeps buzzing about. Then I could ponder my identity and transformation. Right now, I needed to focus.
Carefully, I turned and embraced the massive stone stair that seemed to be made for giants. I gripped the edge and lowered myself down, trying to balance caution with urgency. My heart was pounding in my ears because I knew that the wrong movement could cause me to fall to my death and I couldn't see where I was going while backing up.
Once seated on that stair, I took a moment to pop an anxiety pill. I was trying to save them for emergencies, but feeling off wasn't going to help me if I passed out and became a snack for the bird when it returned. After a few more steps, my breathing became labored, and I had to pause to use my inhaler. I took two puffs, held it for a moment, and then coughed up the fluid that was threatening to settle in my lungs.
I had a choice: keep pushing forward or just give up. I stretched my back and neck, feeling the satisfying pops, but a groan of frustration slipped out as exhaustion washed over me. I pressed on, taking five more steps when suddenly my leg gave way. In a desperate attempt to catch myself, I ended up slicing my leg and hand, blood spraying onto the rocks like a gruesome art piece. My head spun at the sight, but thankfully, I had already taken my anxiety meds. I inhaled deeply, trying to regain my composure, but the metallic scent of my own blood startled me into feeling woozy. I really couldn't stand the sight or scent of blood, which is why my emergency backpack is packed with all sorts of first aid supplies. Plus, I have a bit of a germ phobia and prefer to keep my personal space intact. I know I come off as a bit quirky, but I partially blame that on my lack of socialization growing up. Or maybe I've just long embraced my inner weirdo!
I took a moment on the rock, gathering my thoughts as I looked down at my long green shirt from a life that felt like a distant memory. It was more than just fabric; it was a cherished reminder of a world I could never revisit. I faced a choice: protect it or let despair take over. I wasn't about to give in, even if it meant sacrificing my favorite shirt. I kicked myself for running off and for leaving my backpack behind. With a determined squint, I inhaled deeply and winced as I tore a strip from the hem of my beloved cap-sleeved shirt. The sound of the fabric ripping was almost unbearable, and a small sob slipped out. But I pressed on, ripping off two more strips. I pulled out an alcohol wipe, cleaned my wounds, and quickly wrapped them up, even using a strip around my uninjured hand for a better grip and to prevent any further cuts.
With another frustrated groan, I pushed myself to keep moving. Halfway down, I questioned whether I could make it the rest of the way without a break and what the odds were of being found in the meantime.
The thought of that terrifying bird appearing while I slept spurred me on. I was dizzy with exhaustion and hunger, just wanting this day to end. Scratch after scratch, slip after slip, I managed to travel down, getting little pebbles digging into my skin and turning my nails into ripped bloody bits. My whole body hurt, everything hurt including my hair follicles. I was so done with this! I never wanted to see another cliff for as long as I lived!
Finally, I reached the bottom of the cliff, covered in cuts and more exhausted than I could ever remember. I surveyed the woods surrounding me and let out another groan. I had seen it from the cliff, but seeing it up close was a whole different story.
After everything that happened, I simply couldn't stick around all day waiting for that bird to come back and finish me off. So, I made my way toward the woods, where I stumbled upon two hefty sticks. One was perfect for a walking stick, while the other needed a little makeover. I removed the cloth from my uninjured hand and wrapped it around the end of that stick. Then, I tucked an alcohol wipe inside and pulled out my beloved lighter, igniting the end. Voilà! I had a torch to guide me through the woods. I mean, animals usually shy away from fire, right? Maybe the ones lurking around here would too.
As I ventured deeper into the woods, I aimed for the direction of the village—at least, I hoped I was on the right track. The air grew colder, and darkness began to creep in. My senses heightened, and I could have sworn I spotted glowing eyes watching me from the shadows.
Coming Next Time: Camping Alone in an Otherworldly Forest