Back in the present, Elena emerged from the river, shivering as droplets of water trailed down her skin. She hung her pouch on a low-hanging branch away from the water and coughed, the chill settling into her bones. Standing in a clearing surrounded by sparse trees, she tugged at the hem of her shirt and pulled it off, sneezing violently. She hated water—hated it with a passion. Every time her grandmother took her to swimming lessons, she'd feel out of place watching the dogs paddle effortlessly. Still, she couldn't deny that those lessons had just saved her life.
Dripping wet and shirtless, Elena crossed her arms and stared blankly at her surroundings. As much as she wanted to curl up and sulk, the forest was no place to feel exposed. She reluctantly tugged her soaked shirt back on, grimacing as the fabric clung uncomfortably to her skin. She turned her attention to the supplies in her pouch. The flint and steel caught her eye. Fire. The cornerstone of human survival. It might attract monsters, but she needed warmth. She couldn't risk staying drenched.
She began gathering small sticks, dry grass, and leaves, arranging them into a makeshift firestarter—a base of grass, a layer of leaves, and a crown of twigs. Kneeling low, she struck the flint against the steel. Nothing. She struck again. And again. Finally, on the third attempt, a small puff of smoke rose from the grass. Her heart leapt, but she forced herself to focus. Leaning closer, she gently blew on the embers, coaxing the fragile flame until it ignited.
A spark of pride warmed her more than the fire ever could. "Maybe life's not so bad," she muttered with a shaky laugh. Then her stomach growled—a loud, insistent reminder that her victory was incomplete. Starting a fire had been more exhausting than she anticipated, and her hunger was unbearable. She slumped by the fire, her eyelids growing heavier with each passing moment. Before long, sleep claimed her.
The forest came alive at night. Hidden creatures emerged, prowling for prey under the cover of darkness. The scent of fire attracted many, but one beast stood out. Towering and majestic, it shimmered like the night sky, its body adorned with violet hues and scattered white lights resembling stars. It approached Elena, watching her with curious eyes. Was she brave—or just a fool? Regardless, the beast took a peculiar interest in her.
Throughout the night, it stood guard, keeping lesser predators at bay with its imposing presence. It even used an unfamiliar magic to dry her clothes, ensuring she stayed warm. By dawn, the fire was nothing more than a pile of ash, and the great beast stretched, yawned, and disappeared into the forest. It did not notice the distant eyes watching both it and the sleeping girl.
Elena stirred, yawning as the sun's rays kissed her face. Her body felt like a sack of bruised meat, unwilling to move. She groaned, every muscle protesting as she forced herself upright. Her stomach roared again, reminding her of her neglected hunger.
"Fine, fine," she muttered, staggering toward the river. She spotted the glimmer of fish darting through the water and smacked her forehead. "Of course there are fish! It's a river!" She crouched to grab one barehanded, but the fish were faster than her sluggish reflexes. Frustrated, she sat cross-legged and folded her arms, pondering. Then, it hit her—traps. She could fashion something using vines and sticks.
The process was grueling. She gathered branches and twigs, broke them into equal lengths, and searched for sturdy vines. By the time her makeshift cage was ready, she was utterly drained. Her creation stood at about three feet tall and four feet wide—a crude but functional fish trap.
"Please work," she whispered as she loaded it with rocks for weight and tossed it into the river. The splash muddied the water, scaring off any nearby fish. Sighing, she resigned herself to wait.
To pass the time, Elena collected leftover scraps from her earlier fire and rekindled the flames. She couldn't shake the unease of the previous night—how had she slept undisturbed in a monster-filled forest? Her fingers brushed against the dried fabric of her shirt, and her brow furrowed. The thought was unsettling, but she shook it off. Dwelling on it wouldn't help.
After some time, she returned to the river. Her trap had caught two small bluegills flopping about. Her face lit up like the dawn as she carefully hauled the trap ashore. With a knife in hand, she gutted and cleaned the fish with surprising skill, skewering them on sturdy sticks to roast over the fire. The aroma was heavenly, and her stomach growled in anticipation.
She grabbed the first fish straight from the fire. The searing heat scorched her fingers, and she yelped, dropping it immediately. "Idiot," she muttered, dunking her hand in the river to cool the burn. The pain subsided, and she returned to her meal, this time eating with caution. Each bite was savory, the crispy skin a testament to her effort.
By the time she finished, her hunger was sated, though the meal lacked seasoning or sides. She lay back against the hard ground, feeling both relief and a nagging sense of urgency. She couldn't stay here much longer. Sleeping exposed and cooking food in the open had pushed her luck far enough. Something—or someone—was bound to find her if she lingered.