The air grew thicker as the day wore on. The woods seemed to close in around me, the trees stretching higher, their gnarled roots and tangled branches creating an impenetrable maze of shadows. The quiet was almost suffocating. No chirps of birds, no rustling of animals—just the occasional breeze rustling the leaves overhead, like the forest itself was holding its breath.
I had to keep moving. I couldn't stop. Every moment wasted in indecision or hesitation was a moment closer to death. The hunger gnawed at me again, sharper now, even with the berries I had scavenged earlier. That small meal was only a temporary reprieve. It wasn't enough. I needed more.
But where? The landscape stretched endlessly, trees and underbrush all blending into a sea of green. My stomach twisted in frustration. I had no tools, no weapons, nothing but my bare hands, and the scraps of knowledge from a life I didn't fully understand.
I pushed through the underbrush, determined. My mind wasn't focused on the past or the confusion of my situation—it couldn't be. Survival. That was the only thing that mattered. I had to find food.
The thought flitted in and out of my mind, like an itch I couldn't scratch. But there was something more pressing. I needed to find a way to protect myself. I had no idea what kind of animals or people might be lurking in these woods, and being unprepared would be the death of me.
The trees parted, and I stumbled into a small clearing, my eyes scanning the ground for any sign of life. I crouched low, feeling the wet earth beneath my hands as I moved forward, staying as quiet as possible.
The clearing was empty, save for a few patches of grass and some scattered rocks. But something caught my attention—a flash of movement.
My eyes snapped to the left.
There, just at the edge of the clearing, was a rabbit. It was small, brown, its ears twitching as it sniffed the air. My heart skipped a beat. It was food—real, solid food.
I froze, my mind racing. My body was still weak, trembling from hunger, but I knew I couldn't waste this chance. I couldn't let it slip away. I had no tools, no traps, but I had one advantage—the element of surprise.
I crouched lower, drawing in a deep breath. The rabbit hadn't seen me yet, too focused on the ground. I had to be fast. My heart pounded in my chest, adrenaline rushing through my veins.
Slowly, I inched forward, making sure to stay downwind of the animal. My hands shook as I reached for a stone at my feet, the weight of it solid in my grasp. It wasn't much, but it was something. A crude weapon, something to give me a fighting chance.
I took one step forward. Then another.
The rabbit's ears twitched again. It looked up, but I was too close. In one swift motion, I hurled the stone with all the strength I could muster.
The rabbit darted away just as the stone flew, grazing its side, but it was too quick. It was gone in an instant, disappearing into the underbrush with a burst of speed.
I cursed under my breath.
No. This wasn't over. Not yet.
I stayed still for a moment, the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. There was no way I was letting it get away that easily.
I rose to my feet and began to follow the trail it left behind, my mind working faster than my body. If I could track it, I could catch it. I wasn't just going to wait around to starve.
I moved cautiously through the underbrush, listening for any sounds. A snap of a twig underfoot, a rustling in the grass. Every sound felt amplified in the stillness of the forest.
It took longer than I thought, the rabbit a few paces ahead of me at all times, darting between rocks and trees with astonishing speed. But I didn't give up. My legs ached, my chest burned, but I couldn't afford to stop. Not when I was this close.
I pushed through a thicket of bushes, barely squeezing through the tangled branches, when I finally saw it. The rabbit was cornered against a rock, its wide eyes locked on me in fear. It was exhausted, and so was I.
I took one cautious step forward, the air heavy with tension.
I had no idea how to kill it. No real experience. But I had to. I couldn't go another night without food.
The stone in my hand felt heavy. My grip tightened, knuckles white as I took another step closer. The rabbit didn't move. It was too tired to run.
And that was my chance.
With a quick motion, I hurled the stone again. This time, it hit its target.
The rabbit let out a short squeal, a spasm running through its body as it collapsed, still.
I stood there, panting, the weight of what I had just done settling in. I had killed it.
It was food.
But it felt wrong.
I knelt down beside the small creature, my hands shaking. I had never killed anything before, not like this. I had learned to hunt in another life, but this was different. This was survival. The rabbit wasn't just a meal—it was the difference between life and death.
I had no time to dwell on it.
I quickly set to work, using the small knife I had scavenged from a wrecked camp a few days earlier. The process was clumsy, but it didn't matter. I had food now. I could make it through another night.
The forest had gone quiet again as I ate, the only sounds the crackling of the fire and the occasional rustling of leaves. The fire felt like a small victory, a beacon of warmth in the cold, dark wilderness. The rabbit wasn't much, but it would keep me going for a while.
My mind drifted again, the lingering thought of my past self weighing heavily on me. Who had I been before all of this? It felt like a lifetime ago. All I had now was the present, and the need to survive.
I couldn't afford to think about anything else.
Tomorrow, I would have to keep moving. There was more to find. More to learn. More to adapt to.
But for now, I ate in silence, knowing that this small victory was just the beginning.