He stood up and moved toward it slowly, drawn by the distinct features that made it stand out. As he got closer, he realized, it wasn't an ordinary branch at all. It was a shed, perched atop the thick limb like a hidden tree home.
"It's not possible, how was it built?!" he gasped in shock as he stared at the design of the shed.
He moved closer and studied the tree, scanning for sprouting branches sturdy enough to climb. Once he had a path in mind, he began his ascent, making his way carefully toward the middle, where the shed rested.
He climbed onto the last branch and carefully settled his weight in the center, making sure not to slip or lose his footing. Then, steadying himself, he moved toward the shed and opened the front door.
It was unlike anything he had seen in his entire existence. The interior was carefully decorated and masterfully designed to fit the shed's shape and weight.
Nothing seemed too heavy, and nothing too light. Every item was balanced with intention—like an invention his mind was only just beginning to comprehend.
"I can't believe something like this actually exists! It all makes sense how they couldn't find him back then. He must have hid here until he saw it was safe enough to get down."
He moved about the shed, noticing and taking notes of everything inside without missing a point.
"This has to be a good place to stay until I can find a replacement," he murmured to himself as he drifted back toward the door.
"Now I've just got to get my items back here, that shouldn't be so hard."
As he slid down the tree, he reached out and snapped off a thick, sturdy branch, using it to carve a crude "X" into the bark at shoulder height, just enough to remind himself where he'd found the shed tucked away.
He stepped back to study the mark, committing the twisted tree and its surroundings to memory before turning away.
Retracing his steps, he made his way back toward the spot where he had left his belongings. The underbrush rustled softly beneath his feet, and the muffled gurgle of the nearby river guided his path.
When he finally reached the clearing, a quiet sigh of relief escaped him, everything was just as he had left it. No animal had disturbed his makeshift pile, and the contents remained untouched.
Wasting no time, he gathered the items into his arms, damp clothes, salvaged herbs, and the few tools he possessed.
Shifting their weight to balance better, he gave one last glance around the area, then turned and made his way back toward the shed with a purposeful, almost casual pace.
His mind was already spinning with possibilities, but for now, the priority was shelter, and the strange shed that had somehow survived the wild.
He ascended the tree with careful, deliberate movements, his belongings bundled tightly and slung across his back. Each step upward was driven by instinct, not thought, his body moving while his mind clung to a single, unshakable focus: safety.
The brittle creak of branches and the occasional scrape of bark against his skin meant little to him now. He didn't care about the discomfort, the weight, or even the direction of the wind.
Nothing else held meaning at this moment, not hunger, not exhaustion, not even the questions still lingering in the corners of his mind.
All that mattered was getting above ground, out of reach, and into a place where he could finally breathe without watching over his shoulder.
He finally made it up the tree, gripping the rough bark with aching fingers as he hauled himself and his belongings, still miraculously intact, into the hidden shed above.
The ascent had been far more difficult this time; every movement felt heavier, more punishing, as if gravity itself was trying to pull him back down into the dangers below. His limbs trembled from exertion, and his breath came in sharp bursts, but none of that mattered now. He was inside.
For the first time in what felt like forever, he could breathe, really breathe, without the constant pressure of survival clawing at the edge of his thoughts.
No more worrying about being ambushed in his sleep, dragged away in the dark by wild beasts or worse. No more second-guessing every direction, fearing he'd lose his way for good. Here, in this concealed sanctuary nestled above the ground, he could finally rest.
Not just physically, but mentally. He could close his eyes without dread knotting in his chest, knowing, at least for the time being, he was safe.
"Finally, I thought I would never find this place."
He glanced around the shed, but it wasn't nearly as reassuring as he had hoped. Time had left its mark as years of rain, sun, and neglect had worn it down from whatever sturdy structure it might have once been.
The wood had darkened and warped in places, its edges softened by weather and decay. Some of the support beams creaked under their own weight, and faint streaks of light pierced through hairline cracks in the walls and roof.
But that wasn't bothering him in the least, because he had finally found somewhere to rest without fear.
"I should probably get some rest first before anything else. My energy has been drained beyond recovery," he murmured to himself as he lay on the floor, not minding its dirtiness or the coldness on his skin, and soon he drifted off to sleep.
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The faint rustling of tree-dwelling animals and the low, persistent churn of his stomach stirred him gently from sleep. It wasn't abrupt, just a quiet nudge back into awareness.
As his eyes blinked open, the haze that had clouded his mind earlier seemed to have lifted, if only slightly.
His body felt lighter now, less weighed down by exhaustion. The sharp aches in his limbs had dulled to a tolerable throb, and the pounding headache that once made it hard to focus had softened to a distant hum.
He wasn't at full strength, not yet, but compared to the state he'd arrived in, he felt subtly renewed, enough to think clearly, enough to start planning his next move.