Scias woke before dawn, his body stiff from sleeping on the hard stone floor.
Darkness was all around him, broken only by faint starlight comming through the cave entrance. His unfamiliar body ached in places he wouldn't expect, since he was used to sleeping outside during his military expeditions.
He was parched. The eggs from previous night left him feeling thirsty.
Scias made his way through the dark toward the creek he discovered yesterday.
The creek gurgled invitingly in the darkness. He knelt at its edge, cupping a cool liquid in his hands and drinking deeply.
After quenching his thirst, Scias considered his disheveled state. His borrowed clothes—pieced together from the dead men's garments—were stiff with dirt and sweat. He'd cut the bloodied pieces away.
Without hesitation, he stripped down and walked into the shallow water. The chill sent a shock through his system, fully waking him up.
He scrubbed his skin vigorously, watching dirt wash away in the current. Next, he attacked his crude clothing, beating the fabric against smooth stones until the worst of the grime loosened.
As he worked, the eastern sky began to lighten.
Scias paused, water dripping from his body, as the first rays of sunlight began to show.
Unlike the familiar yellow sun of Eswua, this star burned a deep crimson, painting the landscape in shades of scarlet and amber.
"Magnificent," he whispered, watching the red orb climb slowly into the sky, momentarily forgetting what he was doing.
The forest around him transformed in the ruddy light, trees casting long shadows.
When he woke up from his stupor, he finished washing what could barely be called clothes.
He dressed in his damp clothes, the cool fabric uncomfortable but preferable to filth or being naked.
His stomach growled insistently. The meal from last night, that could be called an appetizer, left him even hungrier now in the morning.
'Time to hunt,' Scias thought, patting the dagger at his waist.
He ventured deeper into the forest, moving with surprising stealth for someone unaccustomed to hunting.
His steps were nearly silent on the forest floor, his breathing controlled and even.
This new body he inhabited seemed to possess skills he never had.
For over an hour, Scias stalked through the trees, searching for prey.
He avoided patches of dry leaves, ducked beneath low-hanging branches, and followed game trails.
Patience came naturally to him—a commander couldn't rush a battle plan, after all.
Eventually, the forest opened into a sunlit clearing.
Scias dropped to a crouch at its edge, scanning the open space. His heart quickened when he spotted movement.
Graceful creatures with slender legs and tawny coats grazed peacefully in the meadow. Their bodies were lean yet muscular, white spots covering their brown fur.
Most distinctive were the branching protrusions that crowned the heads of the larger animals—bony structures that resembled bare tree branches reaching toward the sky.
Scias had never seen such animals in Eswua. They moved with delicate precision, heads bobbing occasionally as they ate grass.
Some lay resting in the sunlight, legs tucked beneath them, while vigilant members of the herd kept watch, large ears swiveling to catch any sound of danger.
'Beautiful creatures,' he thought.
'But I'm hungry,' he continued thinking, assessing them as potential prey.
The largest adults would be too challenging with only a dagger, but the smaller ones might be manageable. Still, approach would be difficult across the open ground.
Scias remained motionless, considering his options.
The dagger, while sharp, was a poor hunting weapon. He rejected the rusted sword from the cave—a wise decision, he now realized. Such a cumbersome weapon would only hinder his hunting.
Afterall, sword is even worse for hunting than dagger.
Though he lacked formal hunting experience, Scias found himself moving and assessing with unexpected ease.
His body seemed to know what to do even if his mind didn't. He continued observing, waiting for an opportunity rather than rushing in unprepared.
A flicker of movement across the clearing caught his eye. Scias tensed, narrowing his gaze.
Gray shapes slunk through the trees on the far side of the meadow—predators with pointed ears and bushy tails. Their movements were coordinated, purposeful. Their lean bodies and intelligent eyes were unmistakable even at this distance.
'Wolves,' Scias recognized with a jolt. These, at least, were familiar from Eswua.
The situation had grown complicated. Now he needed to ensure he didn't become prey himself while attempting to secure his own meal.
The wolves didn't notice him, their attention fixed on the grazing herd.
Scias saw opportunity in the tension unfolding before him. If he played this right, he might use the wolves to his advantage.
He picked up a stone, testing its weight in his palm.
With practiced aim—another skill he didn't know he had—he hurled it toward the wolves' position. The stone crashed through underbrush near the predators with a satisfying rustle.
The reaction was immediate. The horned creatures jerked their heads up, nostrils flaring as they stared toward the disturbance.
The wolves stirred, caught off-guard before they could properly position themselves.
Sensing danger, the herd bolted. It wasn't a coordinated stampede Scias had anticipated but a frantic scattering as individual animals fled in different directions.
Scias pressed himself behind a broad tree trunk, making himself as small as possible.
The wolves burst from cover, giving chase to their selected targets. Neither predators nor prey paid him any attention in the chaos.
Moving quickly, Scias began throwing more stones at one particular animal—smaller than the others, lacking the branched protrusions.
He aimed strategically, not to injure it but to make it change direction. His goal was to make the animal run toward him.
The frightened animal darted past his hiding spot, exactly as he hoped.
Scias launched himself from behind the tree with unexpected speed, tackling the creature to the ground. It thrashed beneath him, surprisingly strong. Using the dagger's pommel, he struck the creature's head, rendering it unconscious.
Scias lifted the limp body over his shoulders, marveling at his own strength.
He couldn't risk killing it yet. Blood would likely catch the wolves' attention.
Moving swiftly away from the clearing, he put substantial distance between himself and the hunting pack.
When he judged himself safely away, Scias lowered his prey to the ground.
With regretful necessity, he delivered another blow to its head to ensure the animal remained unconscious, then efficiently cut its throat. The creature's blood seeped into the soil.
His first kill.
Thirst overwhelmed him after the exertion. He made his way back to the creek, leaving his kill temporarily hidden.
After drinking deeply, Scias considered his next steps. The animal's bladder could be fashioned into a waterskin—a vital tool for survival.
He returned to his kill and hoisted it once more, adjusting to the weight as he made the long trek back to his cave.
The red sun climbed high overhead by the time he returned, muscles burning with effort.
Without delay, Scias began field dressing the carcass outside the cave entrance. His hands moved skillfully as he removed the internal organs, separating those that were edible from those that weren't.
He set bladder carefully aside for his waterskin.
Next, he ventured into the surrounding area to gather suitable wood.
He needed sturdy poles for drying the hide and ample firewood for cooking and preserving the meat. The task took longer than expected, requiring multiple trips.
When he assembled his materials, Scias returned to the carcass and began the painstaking process of skinning.
His fingers worked the blade beneath the hide, separating it from the flesh with minimal damage. The skin came away in mostly one piece, a testament to his skill.
He constructed a simple frame from the gathered poles, driving them into ground near the cave entrance.
There, he stretched the hide, scraping away remnants of fat and tissue before securing it to dry in the sun.
Turning back to the meat, Scias butchered the carcass methodically.
Some portions he set aside for immediate cooking, but most he cut into thin strips for drying. He worked until his hands were slick with blood and fat, his movements never faltering despite his conscious uncertainty about the process.
The preservation method came to him instinctively—salting wasn't an option, but smoke-drying would work.
He arranged the meat strips carefully on a rack fashioned from green branches placed over his fire pit.
By the time he finished his tasks, the red sun had begun its descent.
Exhaustion and thirst overtook him again. Scias made his way back to the creek, hands and forearms stained with blood despite his efforts to clean them in the soil.
On his way there he thought how inconvenient it is to not have any container for water.
Then, he recalled the bladder and how it would serve as a good waterskin. He smiled at the thought.
As he knelt by the water's edge, scrubbing his skin clean, a troubling thought surfaced. His hands knew exactly what to do all day. His body moved with the confidence and skill of an experienced hunter.
Yet Scias—High Commander of the Astana Empire—never dressed a kill in his life. He never constructed a drying rack or prepared meat for smoking.
These were not skills taught to military commanders raised in the luxury of empire.
"How?" he murmured to his reflection in the water. "How did I know what to do?"
Scias returned to the cave, his skin still damp from the creek but clean.
The nagging questions about his newfound skills lingered in his mind, but the immediate demands of hunger pushed them temporarily aside.
The fire he built earlier was smoldering. With practiced movements that again felt suspiciously natural, he coaxed it back to life, adding small twigs until flames danced merrily among the larger pieces of wood.
The aroma of the cooking meat filled the cave as he skewered chunks on a sharpened stick, turning them periodically to ensure even cooking.
Fat dripped into the fire, causing occasional flare-ups that illuminated the cave walls with flickering shadows.
When the first piece cooked sufficiently, Scias tested it cautiously. The meat was gamey but tender, carrying a rich flavor unlike anything he tasted in Eswua.
He ate slowly, savoring each bite and feeling strength return to him.
The simple meal, prepared without seasonings, satisfied him more than any elaborate feast he enjoyed in his previous life.
There is something satisfying about eating what he hunted and prepared with his own hands.
As Scias chewed the last bite, his gaze wandered outside. Both moons were high in the sky now.
Fatigue slowly settled into Scias's muscles as he watched night sky.
The purple and blue moons hung like mismatched eyes watching over this alien land. The constellations formed unfamiliar patterns, reminding him yet again of how far he was from everything he ever knew.
Returning to the cave, Scias arranged his makeshift bedding of dried leaves and scraps of fabric.
His body ached pleasantly from the day's exertions, the kind of tiredness that promised deep, restorative sleep.
He would need his strength tomorrow, for more exploration of the immediate area and understanding of this new world.
As his consciousness faded, Scias welcomed the darkness, knowing dawn would bring fresh challenges.