Darkness. Silence. Nothing but the faint, cold weight pressing against his chest.
''It's OKAY!'' He shouted. ''Wha''
He tried to move, the sensation was strange foreign. Not the sharp pain in the alley, not the warmth of the blood. Only a chilling emptiness that spread through his limbs.
A breath. Shallow. Tentative. And then another
He opened his eyes.
Nothing. Only black mist curling around him, endless and silent. The ground or what he assumed was ground was hard and cold beneath him. The air tasted of metal and frost.
He sat up slowly, trying to shake off the lingering panic nothing moved. No sound no life. Only him and this unending black mist.
A faint smile tugged at his lips despite the strangeness, despite the fear.
''It's okay'' he whispered, voice low but steady as if reassuring himself.
He stood, testing his body. Everything felt whole. Stronger somehow yet different. The wounds from the alley were gone, replaced by this unnerving unfamiliar vitality.
The mist lifted slowly, curling away from the trees like smoke disappearing into the sky. He opened his eyes to green, everywhere dense and alive. Birds flitted above, squirrels darted along the branches and the distant howl of a wolf echoed through the valley.
The air was crisp, cold, smelling of pine and earth. He move testing his limbs. Wounds that should have crippled him were gone. He breathed deeply.
''It's okay'' he murmured again, as if convincing himself this was real.
He stood feeling the ground firm beneath his feet. The forest seemed endless, ancient, untouched. Streams gurgled, leaves rustled under the wind, and somewhere a deer raised its head, watching silently.
Instinct kicked in. Hunger, thirst the need to move carefully his mind adapted quickly. Every shadow, every sound mattered.
From a fallen branch, he picked up a sturdy stick testing its weight. It was simple, crude but enough for now. He trained himself as he moved swings thrusts, footwork feeling the strength in his arms the coordination in his legs.
Days blurred into nights. He learned the forest: which berries were safe, how to follow the tracks of animals when to rest when to run. Wolves patrolled their territory, deer grazed birds nested and he became part observer, part predator, part human alone in a wild old world.
Days passed. He learned the rhythm of the forest: when wolves hunted, where deer crossed, how the streams curved through valleys. His body no longer protested the labor carrying wood, running long distances, swinging makeshift weapons. His muscles tightened, his senses sharpened.
One morning the air felt different.
The birds were restless, flying lower than usual. Even the wind seemed to blow in a single direction steady and insistent, as if guiding him. He followed it stepping through thick brush, pushing past moss covered trees, until the forest began to thin. Sunlight opened wider between branches, revealing a stretch of ground packed hard and straight.
A road.
Not a dirt trail formed by animals but a road shaped carefully by hands and travel. Grass flattened at the edges, stones pressed into the soil. He crouched fingers brushing the surface.
He found two distinct marks crossing side by side not paws not hooves something carved deeper into the ground, curved slightly at the ends.
Wheel tracks
Then further ahead, clearer: hoof prints. Dozens of them.
A wagon. Horses. Civilization
He stood still for a long moment, eyes narrowing analyzing. He had spent weeks alone; rushing toward people would be foolish. He needed information first. So he moved slightly off-road, high enough behind the trees to watch but close enough to listen. He waited.
Then distant sounds. Hooves. Multiple.
The rhythmic clatter grew louder, accompanied by jingling metal and muffled voices. A caravan emerged around the bend: armored riders on horseback banners fluttering in the air. Behind them, a decorated carriage rolled in steady pace. Its polished wood glinted under sunlight. Curtains of silk swayed gently.Inside through a slight gap, he caught sight of a figure draped in royal colors, posture straight, guarded. A girl. No someone higher. Noble. A princess, judging by the guards, by the emblem on their banners.
Then, a branch snapped under his foot a careless misstep and a guard's head flicked sharply in his direction.
The forest and road froze. The guard's eyes scanned the treelike, narrowing. The princess shifted slightly, her gaze caught in the sunlight through the laves, though she did not see him clearly.
He remained perfectly still, like a statue carved from the forest itself. He did nothing.
After a tense moment, the caravan resumed its path the guards relaxing, and the carriage disappeared down he winding road.
He exhaled softly, muscles loosening, mind already analyzing the encounter. For the first time since waking in this world, he realized that human paths could be as dangerous as calculated, and as revealing as the wildest forest.
And in that fleeting glimpse he understood: observation was power. Waiting, patient and unnoticed, could change the outcome of events.
The morning after the brief encounter with the caravan, he left his forest camp with the first light. The previous day's observation had left him thinking civilization was near.
He moved along the edge of the road, careful not to draw attention.
After a few hours, the trees thinned and the road widened. A faint creak reached him a wagon approaching. He froze, hiding slightly in the brush.
A small wagon emerged, pulled by a brown mule. The driver, a middle aged man with a practical scruffy beard, squinted as he spotted the boy at the forest's edge.
''Hey there!'' The man called voice rough but friendly.
''You're a long way from any village. Heading to Domai?''
The boy nodded once, cautious but silent.
''Name's Daren'' the man continued, slowing the mule.
''I'm hauling herbs and cloth. Roads can get strange out here. Want a ride?''
He studied the offer carefully. Moving alone meant speed and protection. But trust was a calculation. After a moment, he nodded again and climbed onto the wagon, sitting amid sacks of spices and folded cloth.
The wheels creaked under the mule's steady pace. Daren began humming a low tune, occasionally muttering about prices and village politics. The boy listened, absorbing each word.
How do I understand his words clearly?