The night was long, rain drizzled all through, and as such, he barely got any sleep, and was wheezing by morning. The loose soil felt terribly uncomfortable beneath his feet, it was like the rain unraveled the soil of the critters beneath it.
Utterly naked, and utterly lost. Nevertheless, he continued his journey, for anything was better than simply remaining stagnant. He walked for two good hours when the radiant suns of Loonè revealed themselves, they eased his pain somehow. It was fascinating, of all the things he had experienced so far, the magical radiant beasts, his powerful chains, and his sudden wind prowess, of all, the suns were what captivated him.
How did a planet come to have two suns? A living planet with habitants that don't have extreme properties for survival, it was utterly unheard of, he may be no scientist but that he knew was impossible, and nothing short of fantastical.
He continued his slog across the loose sand when he spotted something in the distance—something that was neither vegetation nor a bird, and he hastened to it. Upon getting close, he saw that it was a chest, though it laid empty.
"Argh!"
'Must have come from the sea.' he deduced before continuing on, an empty chest was of no use to him anyways.
He took a few steps then he noticed it, a color that was neither the green of trees nor the black of their barks, right between rows of trees. He looked curiously from where he stood, it was a cart, that much he could tell.
It was not attached to anything nor were people by it, and when he realized that the coast was clear, he walked to it.
He was wrong, there were people by it alright, it was just that they were grey, and unbreathing, their bodies emaciated and grim. It stank of the smell of death.
Mike paused at the sight, he froze for a few seconds.
'People,' he thought until he crept closer and saw that they had longer ears than a typical human did, and longer nose. Their ears were just as shaped and lengthy as Enojar's, yes, they were elves.
Four laid dead and decaying beneath him, he could see worms crawl within the belly of one where a weapon has caused a gape.
Three men and a woman, he could tell from their clothes. The men wore similar clothes: loose-fitting, and utilitarian. The woman on the other hand wore an exorbitant red dress with lots of designs across it, though the clothing with all the holes it had looked unwearable.
The scene was revolting, the smell even more so. They all appeared to have had terrible wounds inflicted upon them.
'They were attacked.' That much was crystal clear. He let out a sigh, and turned to the cart. There was a large splotch of red across the woody-brown that was the color of the cart.
He peered in the cart, and nothing, whoever had attacked these well dressed corpses had taken all but their clothes, and then Mike connected it; it was likely that the chest had been from here. He had thought that the sea had washed it to the beach.
Though the scene was terrible, it gave Mike useful information, and that was: civilization was close, and so were bandits.
He felt bad and very disgusted at his action, he was desecrating a corpse, practically plundering the dead, but it was not his fault that he lacked pants, and he desperately needed a pair.
After struggling to yank it free from the elf's waist, it eventually came off, with its terrible smell of rot. A large slick stain was on the inside of the trousers.
With a long gentle blow of wind, Mike was able to get most of the terrible smell and stain from the trousers. He would like to take the shirt too, but he was worried. If his intuition was correct, these three men were guards of some sort and these were their uniforms, a pair of trousers he could do but the shirt, that would draw too much attention, and he worried that he would be put in situations where he would not know the way out of.
So just the pants it was. He tried looking for the tracks of the cart but the rain last night had washed them away.
If he had seen them, he would have been able to get an idea of what directions to take to possibly get to a town, city, village, anything that had a number of people, hopefully hospitable people.
His legs felt warm, the fabric was comfortable. Unfortunately, the bandits had also taken the footwears of their victims. He reckoned that they definitely wore some if they dressed this well, it was just given, it had to be the case.
Nevertheless, Mike continued his journey. He had walked for tens of kilometers now, and he was still far from exhaustion. The murder scene had momentarily broken the monotony of the forest, and oddly enough, he felt motivated to continue.
He heard the rustle of leaves, and he stopped. He heard them no longer, and he turned to where the sound had come from.
'Must be the wind.' he thought.
Then he heard it again, and this one was no natural rustling of leaves, something was responsible for this, he could tell. He stopped, looked around, his fists clenched. It was a shame that he was terribly low on radiance.
His suspicion manifested, and figures sprang out from the bushes.
"Give us what you have!" One said, which sounded like nothing but a hoarse rageful utterance.