"I feel a bit refreshed... but now I need to find food and some resources," he murmured under his breath, voice scratchy with lingering fatigue as he slowly pushed himself upright.
His movements were steadier now, less shaky, and with a faint groan, he began sorting through his belongings, placing them into the corners of the shed with a quiet sense of order. It was a small ritual, but it gave him a sense of control.
He reached into his pack and pulled out the fish he'd caught earlier. It was still damp, its scales glinting faintly in the scattered light that filtered through the wooden cracks.
A few hours had passed since he'd caught it, maybe more, but to his surprise, it didn't look entirely spoiled.
"I wonder if it's still safe to eat this..." he muttered, eyeing it cautiously.
'Leaving a fish out for hours at room temperature raises the risk of bacterial contamination,' he thought, staring at it more intently now.
'But in my current state, I might be able to stomach it.'
His stomach gave a low, urgent growl, reminding him that survival often demanded risk. But still, something held him back.
'Or... maybe it's best to leave it. I could try hunting a fresh one instead.'
He stood, his body still adjusting to the movement, and walked over to the makeshift window carved into the far end of the shed. The cool breeze brushed against his skin as he leaned forward slightly, gazing outside.
From here, the view was expansive. He could see the treetops rolling out into the distance, the faint shimmer of the river cutting through the greenery like a silver thread.
The shed had been built at just the right height and angle, it blended so naturally into its surroundings, its color and texture almost indistinguishable from the bark and leaves that cradled it. Hidden in plain sight. To someone passing below, it was nothing more than a shadow among the trees.
He exhaled softly, resting his hand on the window frame. Up here, he had a vantage point. A place to breathe, to think, to plan. But he wouldn't last long without food, that much was certain.
"I've got to find something to eat soon before I pass out."
He turned and cast one last glance across the dim interior of the shed. The scattered belongings, the worn floorboards, the faint streams of light slipping through the cracks, it was a fragile sort of safety, but it was his for now.
Without wasting more time, he moved toward the exit, pushing aside the faded cloth that acted as a curtain. The wind outside greeted him again, cooler this time, brushing past his face like a warning.
He gripped the trunk and began his descent, slow and cautious. Every footstep was deliberate. His eyes darted from branch to bark to forest floor, scanning the world below for any sign of movement, any shadow out of place, any sound that didn't belong.
Just the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant call of birds. Still, he didn't relax. Not until both feet were firmly planted on the forest floor and the tree stood silently behind him, its secret still safe.
'At this point, the best place to hunt for food would be by the river. Most animals come there to drink water, so there's a higher chance of me catching one there.'
He made his way toward the river, moving with quiet steps through the underbrush until the familiar rush of water reached his ears. As he approached the bank, he paused, eyes narrowing as he studied the terrain.
The current was fast, just as it had been the day before. That was a good sign. Back in the clan, they'd taught him that steady flow meant consistent fish movement and less chance of stagnation. It also meant fewer predators lingering nearby to drink.
His gaze dropped to the ground. The soil here was soft, damp, pliable. He crouched and ran his fingers through it, nodding slightly to himself.
'This could work.'
It was the kind of terrain perfect for setting a trap, something simple, like a dugout pit covered with foliage, or a false floor made from woven branches and leaves.
Anything that could give him an edge. Whether it caught food or bought him time against something far worse, having it here might make the difference between surviving the day or not.
He glanced back and took a sizeable branch from a tree, one that looked like it could dig up a hole, along with some tablet stones that looked like shovels or parkers.
'Hmm, they should work out.'
He returned to the patch of softened earth and knelt down, sinking his hands into the dirt to check its softness. It gave way easily beneath his fingers, and then, as he took the tablets, he began to dig, slow, steady movements at first, then faster as urgency crept in.
The goal was clear: a hole deep enough for a full-grown man to fall into and struggle to climb out of. Something that could delay a beast or catch prey off guard.
But hunger dragged at his limbs like invisible weights. His arms ached with every scoop, and sweat clung to his skin despite the shade. Each handful of soil felt heavier than the last, and his breath grew ragged as the minutes crawled by.
The sun, once hidden behind clouds, had risen high and bright above the canopy now, casting long streaks of light across the forest floor. It painted the hours he had lost with guilt.
By now, lunch would have come and gone. If this were still the clan, he would've been fed, trained, and resting by this hour. Back then, he never worried about food, it simply arrived.
But now, his stomach groaned in protest, hollow and sharp, reminding him of how naïve he'd been to think he'd have found something better by now. That was the old life. This one demanded something different.
'Probably should have just eaten that fish back then. How stupid of me to think I would have found something better by now.'
After digging relentlessly with the flat edge of his stone tablets, the pit was finally as deep as he had envisioned. He tested it by lowering himself into the hole, and immediately realized how steep it truly was.
Climbing out wasn't easy. He slipped once, scraped his elbow on the way up, and had to dig his fingers into the dirt wall just to haul himself over the edge.
'Either it's deep enough,' he thought, panting,
'or I'm just too damn hungry to pull myself out properly.'
Once out, he didn't rest because there was no time for that. He moved around the nearby brush and began collecting large, broad leaves, thick ones with veins like netting, the kind that wouldn't snap under pressure.
He gathered as many as he could carry in one trip, then returned and began layering them over the opening with patient hands.
Each leaf was placed with care. He alternated textures, broke a few sticks to mimic scattered forest debris, and even sprinkled loose dirt and dead twigs across the surface to disguise any signs of disruption. From a distance, it looked natural, just another patch of uneven ground among the trees.
He stood back, studying his work. It blended in well, better than he expected.
It wasn't perfect, but it didn't need to be. All it had to do was hold long enough, for a beast, or for a chance at something edible.