Vlad descended the tree carefully, his muscles aching from a night spent perched among its branches. His eyes scanned the forest floor, falling on the poisoned carcass of the elk calf. Its lifeless form lay sprawled in the underbrush, flies already swarming over the wound inflicted by the snake. The herd had long since moved on; their scent lingered faintly in the air, a distant memory of the chaos that had unfolded.
Vlad knelt by the calf, inspecting the body. The snake's venom had worked quickly, leaving the meat tainted and unusable. A pang of regret struck him—this calf, though small, could have fed him for days. But survival demanded practicality, not sentiment.
With a deep breath, he turned his attention to his predicament. The frantic escape from the wapiti had cost him dearly. His bow, arrows, and the small pouch of dried food he carried had been scattered somewhere along the trail. Retracing his steps was an option, but the thought of venturing back toward the waterhole where he had seen those red eyes made his skin crawl. Whatever had been watching him from the shadows was no ordinary predator.
He needed a plan. The stream provided a natural path to follow, and Vlad decided to head toward the cliff he had seen in the distance. The stream would offer water, and with luck, perhaps fish or small game along the way. First, he needed a weapon.
Vlad found a sturdy tree branch and set to work, stripping the bark and sharpening one end with a jagged stone he found by the stream. His father's lessons in survival came flooding back as he shaped the crude spear, binding the sharpened stone to the tip with strips of bark. It wasn't elegant, but it would do.
As he moved through the dense forest, Vlad stayed alert, his spear held firmly in his hand. The forest was thicker here, its canopy blocking out much of the sunlight, casting the world around him in perpetual twilight. He climbed trees periodically, peering through the gaps in the leaves to confirm the stream's direction. Each time he ascended, the sight of the cliff grew closer.
By the time he reached the stream, the sun was high overhead. Its rays glinted off the rippling water, which flowed faster now as it descended toward the cliff. Vlad's keen eyes caught sight of a fish trapped between two boulders, its silvery body flailing against the current. He crept closer, ensuring each step was silent and deliberate. With a swift throw of his makeshift spear, he pierced the fish cleanly.
Pulling the spear free, he gutted the fish with practised efficiency, discarding the entrails into the stream. The fresh kill was a small victory, but it fuelled his determination. He slung the fish over his shoulder and pressed on toward the cliff, the sound of rushing water growing louder with every step.
When Vlad finally reached the edge, he was struck by the sheer scale of the scene before him. The stream poured over the cliff's edge, tumbling into a vast lake far below. Its surface shimmered in the sunlight, dotted with wild lotuses and lilies. Surrounding the lake, the forest stretched endlessly, its lush greenery contrasting with the rocky cliff face.
Vlad peered over the edge, gauging the height. Climbing down was out of the question; the smooth rock face offered no handholds. Instead, he followed the stream along the cliff, searching for a way to descend.
By the time he found a suitable spot, the sun was dipping low in the sky. With nightfall approaching, Vlad hurriedly gathered dry leaves and branches to build a small fire. He encircled the flames with stones, skewering the fish on a stick and setting it over the fire to cook.
As the aroma of roasting fish filled the air, Vlad stripped off his sweat-soaked clothes and waded into the lake. The cool water was a welcome relief, washing away days of grime and tension. For the first time since the hunt began, he felt a momentary sense of peace.
The lake was alive with activity. Fish darted around his legs, while birds gathered at its far end, their calls echoing across the water. Vlad watched as a kingfisher dove gracefully into the lake, emerging moments later with a small fish clutched in its beak. It darted toward the waterfall, vanishing into the cascading water.
Curiosity tugged at him. As soon as the fish was cooked, Vlad ate quickly, savouring the taste despite his haste. He extinguished the fire, scattered the ashes, and approached the waterfall. The roar of the water grew deafening as he neared, mist soaking his skin.
Drawing closer, Vlad discovered what the kingfisher had revealed—a hidden cave behind the waterfall. The entrance was partially submerged, the lake's waters lapping gently at its base. With his spear in hand, Vlad waded into the cool water and slipped behind the falls.
Inside, the air was damp and cool, the sound of the waterfall muffled to a distant roar. The cave was immense, its walls glistening with moisture. Stalagmites and stalactites jutted from the floor and ceiling, casting eerie shadows in the dim light. Vlad ventured deeper, his footsteps echoing softly.
It wasn't just a cave, he realized. The entire cliff face was hollow, a massive network of interconnected chambers and tunnels. This was no ordinary feature of the land—it felt deliberate, as though shaped by something ancient and powerful.
Vlad's heart raced. This hidden world beneath the cliff was unlike anything he had ever seen. Whatever secrets it held, he was determined to uncover them. The cave might be dangerous, but it also offered a chance—a chance to find something that could change the fate of his village forever.