//------------------------------//
// First Contact 
// Story: Savage: Encounters 
// by Ese Wey 
//------------------------------//

He had never been claustrophobic, but when he heard the glass door shut, his heart raced, almost as if trying to escape his ribcage. He was startled by the sudden rumbling all around him. The machine had come to life. Slowly, he watched the bottom of the cylinder he was in begin to fill with white mist. Flashes of light started to partially blind him from the other side of the glass, tall figures behind them.

When his eyes started to see well again, he turned to two figures behind a big computer. One was shouting orders to other figures sitting behind similar machines, while the other was just behind its back watching everything unfold. The noise from the machine suddenly grew, as well as the vibrations. He could clearly hear the glass vibrate now.

He turned back to the two figures. The face from the one behind the computer changed, and he began to yell even more instructions this time more loudly. The one behind, meanwhile, was as stoic as he had been when it all began. He asked the one in front a question. When they gave him a response, his facial expression finally changed. 

He turned to him for the first time during all this. The look in the man’s eyes sent a jolt down his back. This was not good, clearly, whatever answer the man got was not good for him. His heart started to race, and he began to violently pound his fists on the glass. He wanted to get out of the machine as soon as possible, but the glass would not budge.

He was in the middle of another strike to the glass when he saw the main computer start to spark, spitting out smoke after a few seconds. Then, the other computers started to follow suit, each one being encased in sparks and smoke. The white mist was now almost up to his head, causing his breathing to become more erratic than before. 

He kept hitting the glass when all of a sudden, his legs began to feel an all-too-familiar tingling sensation. He stopped his barrage on the glass door. It was in that moment that he knew he was doomed. The sensation began to creep up his legs and onto his midsection. Leaning his arms and head on the glass, he closed his eyes, resignation clearly on his face. He had nothing more to do now but wait for his demise.

The mist now filled the chamber, obscuring his view to the outside world. The tingling sensation now reached his lower neck. His legs no longer responded. He couldn’t even feel them any more. Slowly the tingling crawled up his head, with the loss of sensation of his body not far behind.











His eyes shot open, accompanied by a sharp gasp for air. 

Jerking up from his laying position, he took in his surroundings. He was still surrounded by the cold rock of the cave he had found. Once again, he’d been woken up by that recurring dream. Time after time it kept occurring. Always reminding him of his painful arrival to this wretched place all those years ago. Always leading to the same result: waking up in cold sweat and breathing heavily. He couldn’t help but wonder why. Why couldn’t those memories leave him alone?

His thoughts, however, were broken by a very upset-sounding stomach that voiced its displeasure in not having been given anything to eat lately. Things had been getting worse these past couple of weeks. He had gone from a regular meal of white-tailed deer and other small wild animals the first few years to not so frequent meals the following, and now these last years, he’d had to rely on scavenging what he could from dead animals and other predators. He did get a successful hunt from time to time, but not nearly as much as when he had first arrived. Whether he liked it or not, he had been relying more and more on instincts instead of reason. He was slowly becoming more like the creatures of this damned place he was stuck in.

All the while, the environment he was in had changed dramatically from when he had first arrived. It had changed from the serene woods filled with life to a dark, eerie forest. The trees no longer held that natural relaxing vibe. Now they only looked darker, shorter and more menacing. It had been a gradual shift at first, but now that he thought back to where he had came from, the contrast was very stark.

It didn’t help that it appeared that he was slowly growing mad over the years. Some months back, he swore the night had lasted longer than it had to, then the moon lost the strange shadow it had in its surface, and now he swore he could hear a lion’s roar from time to time as well as other unidentifiable animal sounds. He was only grateful that he had not yet the found out if they were real or not. 

Setting those thoughts aside, he got up from the bear hide that made for a very uncomfortable bed and dusted it off so he could wear it without having a nasty bug catch a ride on his body. Stretching out until he heard the satisfying pop of his spine, he began to check his things. First off, his crudely made bow. He grabbed it with one hand and pulled back with the other, listening carefully for any sign of it wanting to break. Fortunately, it still looked sturdy. He got down to inspect his quiver. Five arrows still remained in it.

Next, he went to his spear that was propped up against the cave wall. Grabbing a hold of the shaft with both hands, he examined the head. It looked like it was still serviceable. He now went to the belt where he had his trusty survival knife. Unsheathing it, he grabbed the tip of his very long, bushy beard and sliced through it like butter. 

Pleased with the blade, he now went for his axe. Taking it out of its leather sheath, he gave the blade a quick once-over with his eyes. Kneeling down, he raised it over his head and brought it down on some of the remaining firewood from last night, splitting it without much effort. Still as sharp as ever. 

All of his things were in order. He placed his bow and quiver on his back, secured his knife and axe to his waist and grabbed his spear. On his way out, he spotted his ragged travel pack, the once-pristine canvas and leather pack now dotted with patches of animal skin where holes used to be. It reminded him back to that fateful day, how he didn’t want to take all those unnecessary things. After all, the trip was supposed to be short. It seemed making a big impression with the media was the right choice after all.

Before leaving, he headed to his worn-out pack and rummaged inside for a bit. Finding what he was looking for, he brought out a couple of small bone knives that he managed to make out of his past hunts. He knew that he had a better functioning knife on his waist, but he preferred to use the smaller ones to not wear it down from excessive use. Now fully ready, he adjusted his bear coat and went out into the forest. Hopefully, he would finally find something worthwhile this time around.

There was something about this forest that was always off to him. It felt much more natural than where he had been days prior. Yet there was still something that felt very wrong about it. Something that always had his instincts on high alert. As he continued his advance through the forest, however, he heard something in the distance. 

His paces became slower, and he crouched lower. He could hear it a lot clearer now. It sounded as if something was... chipping away at wood. Positioning his body against a nearby tree, he took his bow off of his back and prepared an arrow. Peering from behind the trunk, he found the sight of a beaver eating away at a small tree. Soon enough, it wouldn’t be only the beaver eating away at something. 

He brought up his bow to his face and pulled back at the cord. Taking good aim at the unsuspecting animal, he tried to center it as best he could. The damned arrows tended to curve in mid-air from time to time.

He was about to release his hold on the arrow when three short calls from a bird caught both of their attention. As if trying to warn it from him, the beaver turned and made eye contact with him. Realizing that its life was in danger, it quickly stopped what it was doing and darted to its right at full speed. At the same time he saw the beaver notice him, he shot his arrow. 

Defying the man’s wishes, the arrow decided that it was a good time to curve left, completely missing its target. With a grunt of frustration, he got up and began to give chase to the small creature. Being the smaller, more agile figure, the beaver evaded him much better than a bigger animal. Unfortunately for him, the human wasn’t one to let go of his prey, even if it had a lead. Sooner or later the beaver had to tire, and when it did, it would be game over.

Just when the man began to gain on the beaver, he was met with one of his biggest enemies when hunting: a rock. A particularly big and painful one. The loss of his footing, combined with the momentum that he had acquired while chasing the animal, caused the human to drop to ground with an audible grunt of pain. Lifting his head from the ground, he got to just barely see his prey getting away before he let his head drop down again in defeat. The fall had taken the remaining breath out of his lungs; there was no way to catch up to that beaver anymore.

Lifting himself up from his depressing defeat at the hands of a rock, he rested his back on a tree trunk to help him regain his breath. While he was regaining his breath, he brought his foot up to where he could see and saw that it was not bleeding. There was only a big red sore spot where he had stepped on it. Oh, how I miss having shoes, he thought as he massaged his foot. 

After he regained his breath, he got back up and began once more to scout the forest, now only with a small limp. He did not know what kind of god he had offended before all this happened to deserve this. His absentminded scouting continued for some time before it was interrupted when a rhythmic sound at the distance broke his train of thought.

It sounded... strange. It didn’t sound like a bird call, and yet it had a certain rhythm to it that reminded him of a sort of song, bird or otherwise. It felt almost… entrancing.  He began following his ears, letting them guide him through the forest to where the sound originated. Once he could hear it closer, he began to make his way silently through the trees. Whatever it was, he had to make sure he did not scare it away. 

Finally being able to pinpoint the origin of the strange rhythm, he began to hear something else accompanying it. It sounded a lot like… hoofsteps. Realizing that the sounds were getting closer, he quickly hid behind a bush, making sure that the bush concealed his body the best it could, and waited for the sounds to come nearer. It didn’t take long for it to get close, but once it was close enough, he brought out his head the slightest bit to catch a glimpse of it.

His eyes went wide at the sight of the creature that he was seeing. A zebra… just in front of his eyes and in the middle of a forest was a zebra, a very strange looking zebra at that. His memories of the animal were vague, but even so, he was sure that that was not the way they should look. Many golden rings decorated it, both on its foreleg and neck, as well as an earring on one of its ears. Another strange thing about it was that on both flanks it had a strange swirling pattern. All of that, however was not what truly confused him.
 
Its eyes were unusually big: the whites of the eye were clearly visible and had deep cyan irises. Just looking at its eyes brought a chill to his spine. The resemblance to the human eye was too close for his liking.

What also didn’t check out with his memory were its proportions. It was short for a zebra, its head maybe reaching his chest. Its legs were also different. They were shorter and thicker, something that did not match the long and slender legs that his mind still remembered. All in all, the zebra looked meatier than the beaver or any other forest herbivores. Much... much meatier. 

His stomach, it seemed, agreed with him wholeheartedly, growling loud enough to almost cost him his cover. Strangeness be damned. He had not eaten anything this big in a very long time, and he was not about to let this chance go by. He might not be able to eat it completely, but the remainder of the zebra would no doubt attract other animals attention, guaranteeing him another meal.

He brought out his bow one more time. This time he took the time to search for the straightest of his few remaining arrows. When he spotted the best-looking arrow, he quickly brought it to his bow. He didn’t have much time. This zebra was one of those kills that he needed desperately to survive. Making sure that that the zebra was not looking his way, he got up, aimed carefully at his prey and shot.

As soon as the arrow left his grasp, he happily noted how the arrow’s flight was indeed making a beeline for his target’s upper neck. That was, until the zebra ducked its head to grab a strange-looking herb from the ground. Instead of lodging itself into the zebra’s neck to make his chase shorter, it missed by a hair’s length and instead struck a tree. His kill shot had been wasted thanks to the damned zebra’s appetite.

As the zebra began to look every which way trying to locate where it had come from, its eyes finally landed on him, and so with a predatory roar, the man came out from his hiding place, abandoning stealth completely in his frustration.

With his cover now blown, his prey darted off as fast as it could, with him not far behind. He hadn’t expected the zebra to be this quick. The shorter, stubbier legs should have at least made her much slower. Instead, it was as if someone combined speed with agility and put it in a small, meaty, striped package. The zebra was already beginning to gain a growing lead.

This wasn’t going to stop him, however. The white-tailed deer that he used to hunt were an even bigger challenge, and even then, they kept falling prey to his mighty will. He needed to exhaust it before it did the same to him. He saw how it chanced a look back, its eyes widening strangely, and picked up its pace. Excellent. The faster it ran, the faster it would end up becoming lunch. 

He began to pace himself a bit more as to not tire quickly. After a few minutes, the zebra’s speed began to slow down. His hard work was paying off, and this time, there did not seem to be a rock in his way to stop him.

The chase drew on, and he was making his way bit by bit closer to his prey. Increasing his pace again, the zebra was now at a distance where he could throw his spear at it. Grabbing a better hold on his spear, he extended his arm back and began to take careful aim. The zebra on the other hand decided to look back again and see if it had somehow lost its persisting predator. 
If he thought that its strange large eyes couldn’t get any bigger, the doubt was cleared the moment the zebra saw him with his spear held up high.

Deciding to put an end to this chase, he finally launched his spear at his prey. However, in his over-excitement in finally catching a worthy meal, the force with which he threw it caused it to fly over his target. He was about to let another angered shout, when he saw that the zebra did not notice that the spear sank itself in front of her, and it tripped on it.











It all had happened too fast.

It had all started when she looking for a herb she needed, singing a tribal chant while she looked for it. When she heard something hard strike a nearby tree, she immediately dropped the herb on the ground and turned her head to where she heard the sound. When she what it was, she realized that it was an arrow... An arrow that was meant for her. As she began to look around, her eyes met those of a strange creature. 

A tall, spear-wielding, bear-skin-wearing and very beastly-looking creature that she had never seen in the forest. When their eyes had met, she could have sworn that she had looked right into the eyes of Hades himself. She needed to get to her hut, or close enough to it at least. Before she had a chance to react, the beast let out a loud roar and charged at her.

Back in the present, Zecora found herself crashing into the ground after a long, aggravating chase. The very painful and drastic stop took her breath away, rendering her unable to move. Opening her eyes, she saw that she was in a small clearing. She let out one last cry for help; maybe her savior was close enough now. The zebra tried to get up, but in less than a moment's notice, she suddenly felt a very heavy weight landing on her.

Looking up, she saw the strange predator now on top of her. The look in its eyes was one of pure crazed hunger. She tried to get up, the difficult action now almost impossible with its added weight. Before she knew it, it took hold of her head with both of its strange minotaur-like hands and started to bang her head hard on the cold, hard ground. Each blow brought her closer to unconsciousness. 

Finally, the creature relented its attack on her. Opening one of her eyes slowly, she saw as it brought its hand to its midsection and brought out a very sharp-looking blade.The last thing she was able to see was the arm of the creature being brought up over its head, the blade catching a stray beam of light from the top of the trees before it came down upon her.