I brushed the dirt from my hands and stood, scanning the edges of the patch for anything useful. A half-buried handle caught my eye in the tangled bushes. I stepped closer, pushing aside branches until I saw it clearly—a wooden sword, worn smooth by time and weather.
I tugged it free, feeling the weight in my hand. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.
Hmmm… maybe I should try hunting something. I need to eat.
Clutching the sword, I left the small cluster of houses behind. The narrow path wound toward a place I had noticed before—a moss-covered wall with an opening hidden behind thick vines. I pushed them aside, revealing a dark stone passage. The air inside was cooler, smelling faintly of earth and water.
My footsteps echoed softly as I moved through, the walls glowing faintly with seams of silver light that traced along the stone. Soon, the passage opened to the outside world, the air warmer and filled with the scent of pine.
I stepped out, scanning the tree line. The forest spread endlessly before me. I didn't dare go too far—not until I learned the lay of the land—but I needed food. I gripped the sword tighter and began moving slowly, ears tuned for the slightest rustle or snap that might betray prey.
I walked for quite some time, careful to keep my steps light on the mossy ground. Every few moments, I paused to listen—the forest had its own quiet rhythm, full of rustles, soft wingbeats, and the distant tapping of some unseen bird on wood.
Then I saw it—a rabbit, small and gray, crouched in a patch of dappled sunlight, nibbling on tender shoots. My breath caught. Slowly, I bent my knees, shifting my weight forward. But the moment my foot pressed into a twig, it snapped. The rabbit's head shot up, ears twitching. Before I could even take another step, it bounded away. All I saw was its round little tail bouncing through the ferns.
I exhaled sharply, half amused, half frustrated. What a hard thing… I thought. Fishing was easier—at least the water didn't suddenly leap away from you. Hunting on land was different, far more difficult without the right tools or snares.
I moved on, brushing past damp leaves that left little dark marks on my clothes. Sunlight trickled through the canopy in narrow streams, and every so often, a cool breeze carried the scent of pine and earth. I searched the ground for tracks, the low shrubs for signs of movement, but the forest kept most of its secrets well hidden.
After a while, luck finally turned in my favor. Beneath a tangle of thorny branches, I noticed a patch of soft down. Parting the leaves carefully, I found a small nest tucked inside—four pale bird eggs, warm to the touch. My stomach gave a quiet growl.
It wasn't much, but it was enough for today. I gathered them gently, cradling them in the crook of my arm so they wouldn't crack, and began the slow walk back. The muscles in my legs throbbed from the morning's training, and my arms felt heavier than they should.
I retraced my path until I reached the smooth stone passage hidden behind the rocks. Its surface glimmered faintly in the dim light, guiding me back to the village.
When I stepped inside my little house, the air felt still and cool. I placed the eggs on the wooden table and sank into the pillow with a long, relieved sigh. My body ached, my mind was tired, but I had something to eat—and for now, that was enough.
I stepped towards hot pool, the ache in my shoulders reminding me of every strike and dodge from earlier. The bird eggs felt fragile in my hand, warm from the nest. My stomach gave a low growl, urging me to figure something out fast.
The small hotspring pool shimmered invitingly in the corner, its surface sending up faint curls of steam. I crouched beside it, testing the water with my fingers. The deeper I reached toward the center, the hotter it became — almost too hot to keep my hand there. Perfect.
I rummaged through a pile of forgotten things near the wall until I found an old rag, worn but still holding together. I tore a strip from it and tied it tightly around the end of a short wooden stick. Carefully, I cradled the eggs in the cloth and lowered them into the hottest part of the pool, letting the steam curl around them. The warmth seeped into my skin even from here.
I slipped out of my clothes, letting them fall into a heap on the floor, and eased myself into the shallower edge of the spring. The water embraced me instantly, a gentle burn that melted the knots in my muscles. My tired body sank deeper until only my face was above the surface.
Every so often, I leaned forward to check on the eggs, turning the stick slightly so they cooked evenly in their floating cradle. The scent of mineral water filled my nose, earthy and clean, and I let my head rest against the smooth stone edge.
For the first time today, I let myself simply breathe.
The heat worked its magic, loosening the last threads of tension in my back. The soft bubbling of the spring and the faint crack of eggshells shifting under heat were the only sounds in the room. I watched a tiny wisp of steam rise from the bundle, carrying with it a faint, savory scent that made my mouth water.
When I judged they were ready, I pulled the stick up slowly, droplets sliding down the rag and back into the pool. The eggshells were warm to the touch, almost too hot for my fingers, but I cradled them carefully and cracked the first one open.
The taste was simple — just soft, tender yolk with a hint of the spring's mineral tang. I ate slowly, letting the warmth spread from my mouth down into my belly. Each bite was small but enough to steady me, to quiet the hollow ache in my stomach.
I leaned back again, letting the water lap at my collarbones, and stared at the stone ceiling above. My body felt heavy but in a good way, like it finally trusted me to rest. Out there, beyond the hidden passage, the forest waited — quick rabbits, nests hidden in brambles, a thousand small challenges.
But for tonight, this would be enough. Warm water. A full stomach. The quiet company of the spring.