Beyond the Forest
After being roused from my dreamless sleep by a surprisingly loud bird just outside, I rise from my mat and slip on my boots. Looking out the small opening of a window, I see it's still dark outside. I usually get up before dawn anyway, so no harm done. I’m still gonna kill that bird, though.
Looking around, I take stock of what's in my damp little hut: my armor is hanging on the wall, dried pelts and other bits of animals are piled in the corner, dozens of books, ragged and earmarked, are stacked along the back wall, and what few personal belongings I have are in the locked box by my sleeping mat. The place reeks of dried meat, possibly due to the small hole in the corner where I store my food. Cat is nowhere to be seen, but that's normal; she's usually out foraging at this hour.
I feel strangely compelled to look in the box. It’s not so much what’s left of our lives than a record of our achievements. The key, as it should be, is on a leather cord around my neck. Opening the box, I’m greeted by the same items as always: a cracked pair of glasses with one arm missing, a radio (batteries not included), a laminated aviator's map, another ragged book, a large chunk of emerald, and a sharp black claw. There is also a spare key and a faded leather wallet with forty-two dollars, a credit card, and a Starbuck’s reciept. Other than the one in the box and the one I wear, the only other key in existence is around Cat’s neck. Looking through my few possessions reminds me of how I ended up here.
"You ready to go yet?" my annoyed brother Troy asks as he looks back at me from the cockpit. The last hour has been spent preparing for takeoff, and he's almost out of patience.
I climb into the plane and make sure my stuff is secured while Troy finishes up the pre-flight checklist. We're both a little nervous; Troy is an experienced pilot, but this is his first time in something this small. He usually flies the giant commercial planes for Oceanic Airways, but this time he's just taking us home to New York for the summer.
"This is Transatlantic Flight 529, ready for takeoff." The engine revs up as the propeller starts to spin, and an unsettling amount of smoke pours out. My brother bangs on the side a bit and the craft lurches forward.
I walk to the hook on the wall and put on my armor. This chestplate is invaluable to me. Being made of timberwolf hide, it's extremely strong and doubles as camouflage. I had been out hunting early one morning when I stumbled across a dead timberwolf that had just whelped a small litter of pups. I began to skin the mother, taking care not to damage its tough, woody hide and wrapped up what little meat was salvageable for later. Cat hates the things, and I didn't need any more competition for food, so I slew the babies, too. It was probably for the best; they wouldn't have survived out there for very long.
I returned home and began to cut it to shape, but it got harder as it dried. Resembling an oak tree fused with tanned leather and smelling like a wet dog, nothing short of my axe could cut the stuff. I turned the pups into a pair of boots, and the mother became the tunic I now wear.
I reach for the tools I need for hunting: my homemade bow and arrows (which are desperately in need of new fletchings), deerskin game bag, and steel knife. Chewing on a piece of dried venison, I pull the door open and almost knock Cat to the ground.
"Hey! Be careful, I almost spilled the berries I found!" She huffs as she holds up a leather sack full of blackberries. I move to take one but she slaps my hand away. “No, these are for dessert later.”
"Fine, I can wait. I'm going grocery shopping, you know what to do."
"Keep wood on the fire and eyes on the sky, I know, I know..."
"That's right." I plant a kiss on her forehead. "I'll be back with dinner. If you get hungry, we have some leftover dinner in the food box." As I start towards the woods, I turn back and examine the clearing. Our little hut sits in the middle of a small circle of level ground in the middle of an immense forest. Next to the structure sets a small fire pit and a pile of chopped wood. I make a mental note to add some more wood to the pile when I return.
"WAAAAAIIIIT!” Cat runs after the plane, pulling a pink suitcase behind her and screaming at the top of her little lungs. “Don’t go! Hold up! Let me on!” I tell Troy to slow down so she can climb in. When the door is closed and Cat is strapped in, we finally leave the ground.
"I thought you said you didn't want to come to New York with me. You said it would be... What was it again? Oh yeah, boring?" Cat blushes.
"Well, I'd rather be with you for the summer than with smelly old great-aunt-Suzie."
At this, Troy calls back to us, "I can't imagine anything more boring than staying with my brother, she must be horrible."
"Oh, she is! This one time I asked for macaroni and cheese, and she-"
"Caitlyn!" I cut her off, "Don't talk about your great-aunt like that, she's the only family you have left. I may be your godfather and guardian, but that doesn't mean I outrank blood relatives." She raises an eyebrow. "..although, I will admit her place does smell a bit strange. And all of those cats don't help either."
We mostly just made small talk until England was out of view. It was shaping up to be a great flight.
After smiting that damned bird, I follow a trail for a few minutes. I don’t see anything useful, so I decide to climb a nearby tree. The tall spruce is covered with sap, so it's hard to fall off. When I get to the top, I take a minute to enjoy the cool morning breeze in my hair and the fresh smell of pine. I survey the area, looking for anything edible and see a cluster of what looks like deer about a kilometer to the north.
The sun has already risen when I reach the clearing and the deer. There are five or six of them, the closest about ten meters away. I back up until I hit a tree and crouch, my armor making me invisible to the small-minded deer. Silent as a shadow, I remove an arrow and put it on my bow. I pull the string back, take aim, and... all of the deer turn their heads and run into the forest. I curse to myself. They must have heard me, or smelled me, or-
My thoughts are cut short by some sort of giant beast breaking into the clearing, uprooting several trees in the process. About halfway through the clearing, it stops chasing the deer and smells its new target: me. It has the body of a lion, two leathery black wings, and a spiked tail dripping with poison. I guess manticores are smarter than deer, because my camouflage doesn't fool it for a second. It bears its long teeth and charges me, and I instinctively release the arrow. which only makes it angrier.
I stumble to my feet and start running, but the beast quickly closes the distance. I desperately scramble to climb up a tree, but it grabs my leg and pulls me to the ground, tearing large gashes in my calf. As it opens its ferocious maw, I pull out my knife to try and defend myself. Its jaws clamp down on my torso, and I start stabbing the monster in the face. The manticore roars and shakes me violently like a dog with a chew toy. I sink my knife up to the handle in its eye, and the beast throws me into a nearby tree. I hear a loud CRACK and fall to the ground, afraid to move in case I broke something. I struggle to keep my eyes open as the beast thrashes about, trying to remove the blade from its eye. It rams its face into a tree, shoving the blade in deeper and into its frontal lobe. I watch my assailant fall to the ground, blood running down the side of its face, its body spasming violently, and I slip into unconsciousness.
"Uhh, guys? We're in for a bit of trouble here." Troy calls back to us from the pilot's seat. I look up from my book and Cat stops drawing as we look out the window. We're suddenly in the middle of a huge lightning storm. Troy looks at his control panel and wipes the sweat from his forehead.
"Oh God, what's going on? None of my instruments are working!" He gestures to the dials in front of him, and, sure enough, the compass is spinning in circles and the altimeter is impersonating a metronome. Always quick to panic, he almost yells into his radio, "Hello, can anyone hear me, over?" The radio replies with very loud static.
"Calm down, can't you just go around it?" I grab a map out of the seat pocket and start navigating. "If we left around eight, we're probably around... *here*." I point to just before the midway mark on our course line, right in the middle of the Atlantic. "Now if we just... what the hell?"
Through a bare spot in the clouds, we get a glimpse of the surface below. Instead of rolling ocean, an immense forest is sprawled out below.
Here’s a rewrite of Chapter One. I added a bit more detail and set up some stuff for later.
Bless your face, if you sneezed while reading this bless you.
Peace off!