//------------------------------//
// Chapter 1 
// Story: Anon's Detour 
// by NeonDF 
//------------------------------//

Anonymous has always considered himself impartial when it comes to nature. He was not an avid lover, ready to touch grass and hug trees at every opportunity, but neither he disliked it, sometimes going so far as to take a half-hour detour through the nearby park to enjoy the view and settle nerves after work.

One such detour got him to where he is now: ravenously hungry, hopelessly lost in the woods and wishing every curse on the nature he spent the last 24 hours “enjoying”. The park turned out to be bigger on the inside, with a heavily forested section vast enough there was no cell reception, and the floor rich with undergrowth usually absent from the more maintained parts.

There were no trails, power lines, cell towers or other similar signs of human presence. Even the most ubiquitous one – trash – was nowhere to be seen, which worried him the most.

Climbing over a fallen tree and ascending to a relatively open hill, Anon stopped for a bit to catch his breath and attempt to spot some landmark. There was nothing of note, but the opposite side featured a steep descend and thick vegetation, which brought hope of finding water. Taking a deep breath, Anon went off in that direction, taking care to maintain stable footing and avoiding any nasty shrubbery.

After 15 minutes of slow progress, he reached the bottom of the ravine. There, indeed, was a brook, happily making its way through the soft turf and leaving behind a yellow road of sand. Relieved, Anon rushed the rest of the way and kneeled, plunging his hands into the cool water.

He quickly washed the grime away and greedily drank from the stream, silently praying the water was clean enough it wouldn’t make him sick later, and then took his time to clean his legs, washing away the dirt and caked blood from the small cuts accumulated during the ordeal and letting the coolness sooth his tired muscles.

A loud snap brought him back to reality though, and Anon whipped his head towards the sound. There, on the other side of the brook some 15 meters away was a wolf. Or, some… thing resembling a wolf. It was brownish-green in coloration with tufts of hair sticking out all over the body, but the most startling feature were a pair of glowing green eyes. The eyes which were tracking him, as the thing slowly made its way closer.

Fight or flight response took over, and a moment later Anon found himself tearing through the underbrush climbing back the way he came. Quickly reaching the top and breathing heavily, he took off as fast as he could in a random direction.

Tearing through bushes and ducking under low-hanging branches, Anon worked his legs off putting as much distance from the wolf thing as he could. A late thought crossed his mind – if he were to run along the brook instead of climbing back, he would’ve not only conserved stamina, but also eventually found some sign of civilization – but it was quickly squashed as his spleen made itself known with a sharp pang of pain.

After sprinting some more, he eventually dared to slow a bit and tack a glance back, only to see nothing but trees. Slowing down to a jog and holding his pained side with his hand, Anon kept moving for a few more minutes, occasionally scanning the surroundings.

There were no signs of the wolf thing pursuing.

Finally deciding he was far enough, Anon stopped and leaned against a tree, feeling his body coming down from the adrenaline high. Hands shaking, he slid down to the ground and let out a few shuddering breaths. Whatever it was, it seems to have lost him.

Shifting into a more comfortable position and taking deep and steady breaths to calm down, Anon took note of his surroundings. He was still in the forest, but this area seems to be on a wilder side, with massive trees towering above, their thick canopy letting little light in. Dark clouds could be seen through the openings, and various shrubs Anon didn’t know the names of surrounded him on almost all sides, blocking the line of sight. A quick check with the smartphone showed the continuing lack of reception, as not even emergency calls were available – something he always used to take for granted.

But there was still light at the end of the tunnel, in somewhat literal sense. In one direction the forest seemed to be thinning out, with little vegetation and sparsely growing trees letting considerably more light in. A fresh breeze was blowing from there as well, bringing in the smell of fresh hay and manure.

Never in his life Anon thought he’d be so happy to the smell the manure. Manure means cattle, cattle means farm, farm means civilization, and civilization means getting home, stuffing himself silly with food, taking a hot shower and passing out in a comfy bed.

Thoroughly inspired, Anon sprang back from the ground and took off at a brisk walk, relying on his nose for guidance. It didn’t take long to break the tree line, which revealed a vast orchard with apple trees growing in neat rows. The apples were small and green, evidently a few months away from harvest, but that was expected of May. Snagging one, Anon took a bite. It was hard and bitter, but circumstances made it easily the best apple he tasted in his life.

The clouds overhead were getting noticeably darker. Rain was coming soon, and it would be wise to seek shelter. Anon decided to turn left and follow the edge of the orchard, snacking on an apple occasionally and hoping to eventually hit a road or some building.

Another half an hour passed, and from behind the tree peeked out a two-story house surrounded by a fence. It was painted red with windows highlighted by hand carved white trim, its gable roof sporting an attic tower which had an apple-shaped wind dial at the top. It was safe to assume this was the orchard owners’ house.

The sight of it made Anon cry out in joy and relief, and he quickly made his way towards the house. Climbing over the chest-high fence, he saw entirety of the fenced off area which turned out to also contain three barns with cows mingling in a nearby enclosure, as well as multiple sheds and a small wooden hut in the far corner. An empty wooden cart stood near the house entrance, which featured a wide porch with similarly wide overhang above it, a massive wooden door and a vintage doorbell, which was an actual bell with a short rope attached.

Heavy rain drops began falling from the skies, Anon crossed the opening and ascended the stairs, seeking shelter under the overhang. He took a minute to prepare for meeting the owner, or owners, combing his hair with fingers to regain some modesty and mentally going over what he would say if they were to pull a gun at him. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst, right?

As the rain intensified and turned into downpour, Anon raised his right hand, grabbed the bell’s rope and gave it a sharp tug. The sound it made was loud and oddly pleasant, its ringing easily carrying through the noise of the rain, but nonetheless Anon gave it a few more rings for the good measure.

Nothing happened at first, and Anon was about to reach for the rope again, but then he heard some indiscernible voices from beyond the door and a slam of the deadbolt.

Anon exhaled and put on a smile. The door opened.