CHAPTER 7: THE VOICE OF DEATH

7 years. That's how long I've been trapped on this god-forsaken place. No rescue, no search party, I had just been left for dead. Left to the cruel, harsh winter. Sela listens, though. I try to call her, every day. I know she can hear me. I can feel her power grow as mine wanes. The last message I heard was 13 days ago: I'm coming, big brother. I still could hear her voice so clearly in my head. No longer the sweet little voice of an innocent child, but the voice of a girl growing up too fast, a girl overwhelmed with worry and dread, a girl too old for her young years.

All I can do is the same as I have been doing for the past 7 years, the past 2,555 days spent alone: wait. Wait, and hope that Sela will be here soon to bring me home from this wasteland.

There is, however, one thing I fear, someone who might come for me first; for weeks now, I have heard it. I have felt it as my food supply lessened by the day. I have seen it as my stomach screamed for more. For weeks on end, I have been narrowly avoiding the cold hands of death. How I've survived for this long, I do not know. What I do know is this: if I do not escape from here soon, then the dark reaper shall have his wish. Death will claim me soon. All fruit which has been growing abundantly on the trees and bushes have now vanished. They grow no longer, and the trees are beginning to die. The deer and rabbits which I could hunt nightly have stopped coming this way. The slithering stream which flowed from the river is shrinking. Soon, I shall have nothing to drink nor eat. It is as if an invisible force is working against me, like it wants me to die.

Right now, my best hope is to collect and eat the snow which covers the forest in thick new sheets each day. But even that will not keep me alive for long.

I left my little cave, my only shelter, my home for the past 7 years, about 15 days ago. I had become desperate, trying to find even the slightest sign of food, drink, or any life at all. I have had little luck so far – only a few blueberries and a half-eaten raspberry or two which remained on the few green bushes I could find. The animals no longer walk these paths, especially not in the deadly winters. What rations I had made from the remains of my crewman pack are now all but gone.

I had tried to turn back many years ago. I tried countless times to follow the river with the hope that I might someday find my way back to my tribe, to my family, to my sister. It was, unfortunately, a fool's hope. I would somehow end up losing my tracks, and find myself back where I started, back at the mouth of my cave. No matter what I did, no matter where I went or which path I chose, I would always end up at the same spot: the cave. Curse this dreaded forest! If it hadn't been for its strange paths and the deep magic that lingered in its ancient trees, I would be long gone. I would not have found myself in such a grave state. I would be home.

As the days pass, I find it increasingly harder to move on. My legs feel like bricks, they refuse to let me walk any further. I have set up camp and a small fire with a few logs I was able to find. My chest is like a frozen stone now. Each breath tears through my throat like a burning blade, the cold, sharp air slowly freezing my mouth. It is hard even to blink. My eyeballs feel as if they are turning to ice, scraping my eyelids with every blink. I cannot even cry now, for all my tears are frozen. This is where I will live out my final days until death finds me and takes me into his dark arms.

My hope for salvation now lies but on the end of a string, which is slowly beginning to break. I can no longer reach my sister. My power completely seems to have faded; I cannot feel her, and I know not if she can still feel me. It was that feeling which has helped me hang on to life for all this time. Her warmth, her strength, the thought of burying my face in her big, brown head of hair again. That feeling is no longer there. It has been replaced now by depression, fear and despair, and the cold, chilling whisper of death calling my name.

'Come to me, Karl, fall asleep and let go. Let me ease your pain and suffering. Come, be at peace.'

His call is tempting. I can feel my heavy eyelids weighing down as my legs give way under me, my face slowly sinking into the deep snow. I can no longer feel my arms and legs, they are sprawled around me heavier than a million tons and the breath slowly escaping my lungs, as they are slowly being crushed by the massive hands of this merciless winter. I can hear a voice in the distance, hollering my name. I am ready now.

The voice is getting closer, louder, clearer.

Something is off. This voice was not the cold, spine-chilling whisper that had been calling to me, this voice was… different… familiar. I can see a face looking down at me. A giant mane of brown hair brushing at my frozen red cheeks.

'Karl, it's me, you're safe now. We're going to take you home.'

I feel myself being lifted up by a great big pair of arms and something warm wrapped around my frozen body.

'We found you, we finally found you.'

The familiar face came back, thick, warm tears streaming like a waterfall down its cheeks, and dropping onto my head. Her warm lips pressing onto my forehead. I could hear one last thought form in my head before I drifted off: Sela really came, she found me…..