//------------------------------// // Chapter 2: Wilds // Story: Wild Magic // by Detsella Morningdew //------------------------------// Ryan pressed his hand harder into the mirror, for the first time feeling its icy surface. Panicking, he redoubled his efforts, and the plain frame sparked against the stone floor as it abruptly became flush with the castle wall. The loud noise startled him into awareness, and he caught it before it actually fell over. But his newfound alertness did not feel like a blessing. No more was the chilly air a nice, refreshing addition to his walk. Or even the mild inconvenience that led him back into this room. It was a reminder of both his unsuitable clothing and the alien world. A world he was now stranded on. He almost kicked the mirror in frustration before stopping himself. Yes, it was the reason he was stuck here, and the false sense of hope he had been given had only amplified this betrayal. But it was his only chance of getting back home. A place to escape to, all his own, was a dream come true. But to abandon all that he knew? Why did the portal have to fail now, of all times? Still... maybe it needs time to recharge after use? Ryan hesitated to use the term "magic," even within his own mind, but portals within ordinary-looking mirrors made the term almost unavoidable by association. And if this was a magical artifact... or even a purely technological one, recharging was not exactly a foreign concept. The problem is that I don't know how long that will even take. He touched the mirror's surface once again with his fingers, just in case. Still cold. Ryan shivered. This had quite abruptly turned into an exercise in wilderness survival. Without the part where instructors watched to make sure everyone made it out alive. Okay, first... the shelter is kinda already covered. He looked at the cold stone. At the same time, I'm going to need a lot of leaves to keep from freezing to death. He glanced once more at the mirror. Completely aside from a roof over his head, he was determined to use the castle as a shelter for a completely different reason. With a forest this green, he was sure that he could find water somewhere. And if he found dry enough wood, a fire to warm himself. But without a solid source of food... he wanted to know exactly when he could get back to his dull, boring, yet comfortable life. And with one last check of the mirror, he left the safety of his small room and ventured out once again into the castle proper. No longer was he impatient to explore the rest of the ruin. As soon as he saw a convenient hole in the thick walls, he was climbing out into the wild grasses that surrounded the castle. The drop down was a bit steep and inconvenient, but climbable. And with a quick visual snapshot of where he climbed down from, he turned around and headed for the unknown. Fortunately for Ryan, that didn't last for very long, and a sudden and steep drop spread out before him. The castle had a moat. Of a sort, at least. More of a small canyon. There was definitely a river down there, though. And farther upstream, it seemed that there were a set of rough stairs meant to access the water below. He had water now. Not exactly a convenient source, and he had no bucket, but he wouldn't die of thirst. All right. So the next priority... firewood. And maybe food after that. The subject of food was one that Ryan didn't much like thinking about. Of course, he told himself regularly that the mirror would open up before he got too bad, but that didn't stop him from worrying. Sure, he knew a few edible plants, and even the way to make acorns not taste terrible. But that was back home. Now that he was a lot closer, the forest across the river looked significantly more alien. None of the trees even looked familiar, and the ground-cover seemed thorny almost without purpose. There weren't any berries to speak of. Not that he would have even considered trying to eat one. Even on Earth, eating a strange berry was extremely risky. And it wasn't like he could count on the "color rule" being accurate in the slightest. Still, he needed to enter the forest, somehow. Getting a fire ready was one of the highest priorities, even if his fire-starting abilities weren't that great to begin with. Fortunately for Ryan, there was a stone bridge that spanned the river a ways downstream. The remains of a cobble road led back to the castle, but the path continuing into the forest degraded within a few feet. Instead, he skirted around the edge, searching for dead wood and fallen branches to pick up. Quickly, he met up with another path, and another bridge, this one a simple wooden rope bridge. A simple test with his foot revealed that Ryan would much rather use the stone one, thank you very much. But the path leading into the forest looked quite a lot better maintained. While it wasn't any sort of gravel path he'd expect in a hiking trail, it was clear enough that his old Boy Scout mental warning flags weren't being triggered constantly. Now that he was closer to the actual plants of the forest, though, a lot of other flags were being triggered, and he wasn't quite sure why. The trees seemed relatively fine, despite not being any variety he recognized, but the bushes, the clover, the flowers... Wait. The flowers. The clover! Ryan wasn't much for superstition, but four leaf clovers were rare. And biologically, he knew sort of why. But all the clover had four petals each. The flowers, completely aside from him not recognizing any of them, were all wrong. Four petals. Six petals. Seven. Pretty much any number other than what was natural. The leaves on the bushes felt wrong in a way that was similar. Placed on the stem just a bit wrong. Thorns in places that despite knowing almost nothing about botany, just made him uneasy. Ryan shivered again, completely unrelated to his poor choice in clothing. This wasn't a fantasy world, ripped straight from his imagination. This was a real place, created by no one, and answering to no laws of fiction. This wasn't Narnia. This was more like a planet from Star Trek. Nothing could be taken for granted. And everywhere he looked, there wasn't a stick in sight. Not a branch, leaf, or twig was out of place on the trees. A howl echoed in the distance. He took a nervous glance at the sky, as the sky rapidly darkened. Ryan fell backwards, landing with his arms supporting him. His heart hammered in his chest as he forced his breathing into an even pace. What is this place? Ryan woke up tired, hungry, and sore. Shivering once again, he brushed the leaves off himself and placed his hand hopefully against the mirror. And once again, it failed to yield. He looked back at his makeshift bed. Without finding anything else, he had to make do with finding bushes without thorns, and taking off branches. Green leaves and sticks made terrible bedding, but at this point, anything was better than the hard stone. Briefly, he had considered sleeping outside, but looking through the crack in his "bedroom" wall, he was glad he had decided against it. Not only was there a generous portion of dew on the grasses, the smell convinced him that last night, it had probably rained. At least it seemed that his room was for the most part rain proof. These thoughts only stayed for a few moments. A far more pressing need was at hand. Ryan knew by heart the bare minimum that a human could survive on. Water was the most pressing need, and that he had in abundance. It would take a week or more for him to actually die of hunger. But it had been less than 24 hours, and Ryan had never felt so hungry. Well, that was somewhat true, at least. The pain of hunger had passed a long time ago, some time around midnight. But what was left was seriously unnerving. Like his body had given up, and decided that food was not going to come for a while. He still felt... something. It was enough for him to want it to go away, and never return. What he really wanted was to be home. Cooking an omelette. Eating some cereal. Watching the news like a normal, sane person would be doing. Perhaps that's what he was. Insane. He was in a padded room somewhere, blabbering about four leaf clovers and the lack of wood. But with the dull ache in his stomach, he couldn't afford to think that. It was time to find some actual food. Break off some branches and start drying them for firewood. It was no longer a matter of preserving the trees. This wasn't just a walk in some park. He stood up. Today, it's time that I do something. Ryan woke up, tired and sore. That odd feeling had only increased. There were no plants in the forest. None suitable for consumption, at least. No berries, no soft nuts, or even oak trees with acorns. And the few promising leaves he had rubbed on his skin had started a rash within seconds. Today, though, he had a plan. Yesterday, he had found a nice, sharp rock. And a stick he had ripped from a tree. This morning, he had a sharpened stick. Nice and pliable. It wouldn't break easily. There might have not been any edible plants, but there were certainly animals in that forest. Today, he would hunt like a caveman. Ryan's hand touched the cold, solid surface of the mirror, staring longingly into his own reflection. His thin pajamas were torn and stained so much that it was hard to tell that they had originally been light blue. And long ago, he had abandoned his slippers to the wilds. With the beginnings of a beard starting to appear on his face, and the stick held in his right hand like a staff, he certainly looked the part. The problem was that he was going to have to act the part. Ryan froze, the rabbit pinned against the ground in one hand, and the sharpened stick in the other. The animal scrabbled in blind panic, trying to gain traction on the ground beneath its back. Its fur was soft, a gentle blotching of greyish brown and white. And Ryan couldn't bring his hand down. Despite the hunger deep in his chest, he couldn't bring himself to do this innocent creature harm. This is a creature he should be petting, not eating. He had eaten rabbit before. Several times, actually. It was quite tasty. But looking at the creature in his iron grip, it seemed wrong. Ryan had owned chickens, once upon a time. His family used them for eggs. They were almost like pets. But he thought nothing about eating a chicken leg bought from the local store. What is wrong with me? I need to do this! But the rabbit had taken the brief advantage it could, and had slipped away from his grasp. Ryan woke up, tired and sore. The hunger had grown no more insistent, but regardless, he felt a detached sort of panic at just how exhausted he was. His body refused to get any more sleep, yet he felt dizzy as he sat up. He touched the mirror once again, no longer surprised at the surface's insistent presence. Ryan fell back to his knees, an odd sort of cloudiness around his mind. Yet somewhere in the back, he knew that this was his last day. His last chance. He put his hands on the ground, getting ready to push himself up once again. But his left hand met some unexpected resistance. Some unexpected, furry resistance. What? Ryan stared, bewildered, at what had most certainly not been there last night. It was the rabbit he had caught the previous day. It was dead, and the teeth marks made it obvious that it had been killed by some predator. He almost threw up at the sight. But he didn't have the luxury of being squeamish. Not anymore. The strangest part of all of it, though, was that none of the "meat" seemed to be actually missing. In fact, there wasn't really any actual blood left in, almost like what he might have bought at the store. Except... with the rest of the rabbit there. Ryan shivered with sudden energy. He needed a fire. Now. But... all the wood was wet. And he had found out the hard way that wood recently separated from the trees in this forest did not dry out fast at all. No, he didn't need a fire. He needed to eat. And he had food now. It wasn't a matter of how it got here or how humans aren't supposed to eat raw meat. His stomach was telling him something very different. Ryan adjusted his makeshift tunic, readying his much improved spear as he ventured once more into the woods. He hated this grisly work, yet at the same time, there was an excitement that would not leave him, no matter how much he tried to suppress it. The mirror had been dead for a week. And if he had not adapted, he would have been, too. And yet, where was he? Who had lived in that old castle? And why did the Forest call to him so insistently? Ryan moved silently on his way, oblivious to the pair of green orbs that observed him with interest.