He walked, barely a few metres beyond the gates of his clan, and already he could feel a chill running down his spine, a creeping cold that had little to do with the wind and everything to do with the unfamiliar weight pressing on his chest.
His mind was a haze, a blank slate struggling to make sense of what was happening. He had never done anything like this before.
The only times he'd ever ventured into the wild were during the occasional hunting trips or patrols his father had taken them on, rare outings that happened maybe twice a year at best.
And even then, they never stayed out long. A few hours, a quick round through the woods, maybe the thrill of spotting a beast or two, and they were back within the safety of the walls before nightfall.
But this was different. This wasn't a patrol. It wasn't a lesson in survival or a test of strength under his father's watchful eye. This time, there was no one to return to, no gate waiting to be opened for him.
He had no choice but to live in the wilderness now, because he no longer belonged to the clan. Because his father, the same man who once guided him through these very woods, had banished him.
The words still echoed in his head, disjointed and surreal. He still couldn't believe it had happened.
No matter how many times he replayed it, it felt like something from a nightmare, a moment that didn't belong to him, like he was watching someone else's life unravel, but it was real.
"I guess this is my life now, wandering the woods without a purpose..." he raised his head, watching as the sun began to set slowly. Nightfall was approaching faster than usual, and he still hadn't found any place to stay or rest for the night.
"I mean, where the hell am I supposed to stay?"
He stood by a nearby tree trunk, his limbs heavy with exhaustion and disbelief, then slipped the worn bag from his shoulder, letting it fall to the ground with a soft thud.
Without thinking, he leaned against the rough bark and let his body slide down in one fluid motion, collapsing into a seated position with his back pressed firmly to the tree.
"Think, Ralph, think... there has to be somewhere I could stay for the night."
He rummaged through his memories, searching for something useful, some shred of a plan, a direction, anything at all.
Most of what filled his mind were sunlit days, laughter over warm meals, the comfort of his family's presence.
Happy memories, yes, but none of them helpful now. There was hardly anything solid he could grasp when it came to life beyond the safety of the clan walls. It was all vague, distant, and irrelevant.
Until, like a flicker in the dark, something surfaced.
His mind latched onto it, and slowly, the pieces began to fit together. A memory, faint at first, but growing clearer by the second. It was from years ago, back when his uncle was still alive.
His uncle had always held a special place in his heart. Unlike the others in the clan, the man treated him less like a future heir or a boy with responsibilities to bear, and more like… a person.
A curious child, eager for stories and hungry for adventure. And stories, those, his uncle had in abundance.
He was a spy for the clan. One of the few trusted enough to move beyond the gates on dangerous missions.
Each time he returned, he brought with him tales that were half-wrapped in mystery, half-wrapped in danger, and always thrilling to hear.
Ralph would sit by the hearth and listen wide-eyed, absorbing every word like it was a mystery.
One story stood out now.
It was on a rare occasion when his uncle had returned unexpectedly, bruised, bloodied, and breathless.
Ralph still remembered the chaos of that evening, how the man had burst through the gates, barely escaping a rival clan's pursuit. Everyone had panicked, but he had made it, just in time.
Later, when the dust had settled and he was bandaged up, he shared with Ralph the full tale. About how he had hidden in a forgotten little shed not far from the outer walls. It wasn't much, just a small structure left to rot under vines and dirt, but it had been enough.
He stayed there for three nights, silent and still, waiting for the heat to die down before making his way back home.
Ralph remembered how serious his uncle's face had turned when he spoke about it.
"If you ever get separated from the patrols," he'd said, resting a firm hand on Ralph's shoulder,
"and you can't make it back to the clan right away… find that shed. It's not much, but it'll keep you safe for a night or two. Just until you figure out your next move."
That memory, tucked away for so long, now burned bright in his mind.
"Yes! I remember! The shed!" He looked up, trying to recall where his uncle had said it was hiding.
"He said it was... it was by a riverbank not too far away from here!"
"Keep going until you see a big boulder, turn left and move forward without stop then... then, what next did he say?"
He filtered through his mind, sifting through old memories in hopes of piecing together the rest of the path to the shed.
It hadn't just been a simple direction back then, his uncle had turned it into a playful jingle, a silly tune meant to help him remember.
The melody danced at the edge of his memory, faint and elusive, like something just out of reach, but he knew if he focused hard enough, the words would come back to him.
"Walk the path where the reeds grow high,
Where dragonflies and minnows lie.
Past the tree with the twisted back,
Follow the river, stay on track.
When water bends and stones run thin,
The shed will wait, just tucked within."
He slowly sang the jingle, afraid it would slip his mind if he went too fast.
"That's the way to the shed." He glanced up and stared at the setting sun; it was still up, though not by very much.
He stood up and picked up his bag. Now he remembered the way to somewhere safe, and he wasn't planning on wasting any more time.