The forest loomed ahead like a living painting — vast, ancient, and whispering with unseen life. Pramit hesitated at its edge, listening to the melody of rustling leaves and distant calls of creatures he couldn't name. The light here was softer, filtered through tall trees whose trunks shimmered faintly, as if the wood itself held veins of light.
Each step he took stirred the earth beneath his boots, sending up the scent of moss and wild herbs. Birds with jeweled feathers darted between branches, their songs echoing like fragments of forgotten language. The air hummed with quiet energy — a heartbeat that wasn't his own.
He followed the sound of running water until he reached a small clearing. A narrow stream wound through it, its surface gleaming like glass. Kneeling, Pramit dipped his hands into the cool flow and drank. The water tasted purer than anything he'd ever known — crisp, alive, as though it carried the magic of this world itself.
But then — a sound.
A low growl rippled through the air.
Pramit froze. The bushes behind him trembled. Slowly, he turned. Two glowing eyes watched him from the shadows — sharp, unblinking, predatory.
From the darkness stepped a wolf — or something close to it. Its fur shimmered silver under the light, and faint blue veins of energy pulsed beneath its skin. The air around it crackled softly with power.
Pramit's breath caught in his throat. "A magic beast…?" he whispered.
The creature bared its fangs, circling him with cautious grace. His pulse quickened — fear and awe entwined in equal measure.
And then, for just an instant, the air around his body flickered — faint light rising like smoke.
Something deep inside him was awakening.
As the sun began to dip behind the distant hills, Pramit realized he couldn't wander aimlessly forever. Hunger gnawed at him, reminding him that even in this strange, magical world, he had needs — and laziness wouldn't survive the night.
He scanned the forest edge carefully. A small hollow beneath a cluster of towering trees caught his eye. Their thick, twisted roots wove a natural barrier, while the branches overhead arched protectively. It wasn't perfect, but it would do.
Pramit trudged toward it, brushing aside hanging vines. The moss beneath his boots was soft, damp, and strangely fragrant. He muttered to himself, half-grumbling, half-amused: "Better than sleeping out in the open, I guess…"
Nearby, he spotted bushes heavy with unfamiliar fruit. He picked a few, inspecting them cautiously before tossing them into his satchel. Hunger outweighed caution, and besides, he thought, how dangerous could fruit be?
At a sparkling stream, he knelt, scooping cold water into his hands. He drank deeply, savoring its purity. The water's crisp freshness made him shiver with delight — life here, despite its strangeness, felt… alive.
Next came fire. He struck two stones together, sparks flying, cursing under his breath with every failed attempt. The third try caught, a small flame flickering to life. He blew gently, coaxing it into a modest fire that cast long shadows across the roots.
Pramit sat cross-legged beside it, poking at the embers, letting the warmth seep into his bones. For the first time since waking in this world, he allowed himself to relax. The forest around him hummed softly — the distant call of birds, the rustle of leaves, and the faint crackle of his fire.
He leaned back against a tree, staring into the dancing flames. His hands itched with the memory of the strange energy he had felt earlier — a pulse of power lingering at the edge of his awareness. But tonight, he decided, was for survival, not discovery.
Under the blanket of a sky slowly filling with stars, Pramit closed his eyes, letting the quiet world lull him into his first real sleep.