1 Survival

It is said that time heals all wounds but does it heal the scars? I don't think so. Those scars trouble me further, tearing me apart. 

My name is Ryne. I was part of a remote kingdom in the far east of the gigantic mainland. My story begins when I was just a six-year-old naive child.

Born as the son of a Marquis, I had all ways of life opened up in front of me. I could be anyone - a learned scholar, a famed warrior, a squandering noble, or a wealthy merchant but all of it was taken from me and my hopes, dreams, and even my reality disappeared like a dream. 

I woke up groggy and queasy. Like someone had hit my skull with a bludgeon. I would have started crying if not for the eerie yet majestic scene that graced my eyes as soon as I opened them. 

I found myself in the middle of a remote forest, surrounded by an all-encompassing silence, wounded and alone. I felt no sense of familiarity and my helpless, panicked screams garnered no response.

All I had on me was a loose night-robe that I was wearing and a fancy pendant that my elder brother gave me on my 6th birthday.

I lacked any semblance of courage when I felt the damp, dirty, and dark soil and stared at the dark starless sky with a round moon whose light was eaten by the sky-high, beastly, and stern trees surrounding me. Being a 6-year-old kid, those trees were the stuff of my nightmares for the next few years.

Lacking any choice and after making lots and lots of dumb speculations, I did the only thing I could do - I cried.

I cried and cried and when my tears had dried up, I started walking. Wobbly and uncertain, my injuries started hurting even more. I stumbled and staggered. The trees were moist and there was no way I could lit up a fire.

There was not much difference between days and nights as the forest, unperturbed by the changing time, seemed to lack both life and light.

For the next two days, I became acquainted with lots of new things that I had only read about in books such as blisters, hunger, exhaustion, and paranoia. 

I had no boots and as such my dainty legs bore the brunt of the rugged ground. Blood occasionally trickled from my knees, ankles, and soles and all I could do was rub some more of that dark soil on it while letting out muffled sobs that no one else could hear.

Fortunately, after two days of hunger and shivering cold, I somehow managed to stay alive. After that, I fumbled upon a messy bush and rolled down the slope. I got a few cuts but nothing major as the slope wasn't too high. Down there, I found the first sign of life in the forest - a lush green tree whose leaves were hiding a type of strange purple fruit which gave off an invigorating fragrance. It was bitter, very bitter, but for a famished child, it felt better than all of the delicious dishes I had eaten back home.

Time passed and soon a week had gone past.

Within this time, the jungle made me look like a wounded critter, constantly in search of hope. My throat had already dried up after crying frequently and with no other liquid than the bitter juice of that fruit.

That week I set up my camp in the vicinity of that strange tree which gave me the only edible thing I could find in that strange place and by camp, I mean covering myself up with fallen leaves and hiding there. 

Soon it was time that I moved on as I couldn't stay there for two reasons, first was that the fruits were almost plucked completely and soon there would be none left and the second was that I was facing mankind's worst enemy at a tender age - loneliness. 

I was seeking companionship, anyone would suffice, even that annoying father of mine. I found myself treasuring the fruits even further as it was the only source of energy I knew. Before going further and leaving that tree behind, I carved my name on that tree to remind myself that I was indebted now.

It was only after 10 days that I found out why I was so frightened all the time in this forest. The reason being the eerie quietness. Unlike normal forests that I had heard of, there were no sounds, no animals, or even insects. At night I would only hear the rustling of trees and bushes. That quietness managed to co-operate with my loneliness quite well as it reminded me that I had fallen into a slippery pit with little chance of crawling out.

Although less frequently, I still cried a lot of time at night. The only comfort I found was that tree where somehow I was able to sleep soundly in that comforting fragrance. I bowed my head in that direction and kept walking forward. 

At noon on the 11th day, I found three pleasant surprises. In front of my eyes was a small stream. It signified many things but most importantly - it meant a raging hope. I felt an intense rush that took away all my weariness.

With that stream, I could quench my thirst, I could bathe myself, I could probably find fishes upstream and some nomads might even have set their camps up there. It also meant that I had found a way to walk forward - upstream. My meaningless and borderline despairing journey of 11 days and nights had a purpose now.

The second surprise I received was a letter, it was hidden underneath a stone by the side of the stream. To my amazement, even after being under a large moist stone for an unknown amount of time, it didn't seem affected. 

The unfamiliar runes drawn upon it were neat and precise and the material appeared to be brownish in color and light and stretchable in texture. I didn't know what to do with it, therefore even though, it occurred to be something magical, I left it there.

The last pleasant surprise was the first living thing I saw in a week and a half that I was here. It was a deer. It had dark brown skin, dull eyes, and two curved horns. Before I could even pinch myself to see if it was real or a mirage, the deer appeared startled and disappeared from my sight. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. After standing there numb for a few minutes, I started laughing and kept laughing until tears started falling off my eyes.