The sweetness of the fruit still lingered on Escanor's tongue as he wiped the juice from his chin. For the first time since the storm, he felt human again. Alive. But food alone wouldn't keep him standing. His throat was dry, rough like sandpaper.
"I need water," he muttered. His voice sounded steadier now, more confident.
With his newly found sword strapped awkwardly at his side, he pushed deeper into the forest. Sunlight streamed through the canopy, scattering golden patches across the ground. The air was fresh, cool, filled with the scent of leaves and damp earth.
Every step reminded him just how different this world was from the one he left behind in 2025. Birds with bright feathers darted overhead, calling in cries he had never heard before. A deer leapt gracefully between the trees, vanishing before he could take a second look. Everything was alive, untamed, untouched by man.
But with beauty came danger.
He froze when he noticed tracks in the dirt. Large paw prints, pressed deep into the soil. Too large for a dog. His stomach tightened.
"A wolf?" he whispered.
The thought made his grip tighten on the sword. Escanor had trained with weapons in Spain, his body remembered the drills and discipline. But he had never truly faced wild beasts before.
The forest grew thicker as he moved, the sounds shifting. Crickets, birds, and the distant rustle of something moving between the bushes. He tried to ignore it, focusing on his goal.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he heard it.
The sound of water.
Rushing, steady, promising life. He broke into a run, pushing branches aside until he stumbled out onto the bank of a small river. The water sparkled under the sun, clear and inviting. Relief washed over him as he knelt, cupping handfuls of water and drinking greedily. Cool. Pure. Life-saving.
He splashed some on his face, letting the tension bleed away.
But the peace didn't last.
From across the river, in the shadows of the trees, something was watching. He felt it before he saw it—the weight of eyes tracking his every move. Slowly, he raised his head.
There. Between the branches. Yellow eyes glowed faintly in the dark.
A low growl rumbled across the water.
Escanor's blood ran cold.
"…Wolf."
He staggered back, drawing his sword. The blade was worn, chipped at the edge, but it was steel. The only thing between him and death.
The wolf didn't attack. Not yet. It lingered, staring at him, testing him. Another growl, then silence. And just as suddenly as it appeared, the beast vanished into the undergrowth.
Escanor's chest heaved with each breath. His knuckles were white around the hilt of his sword.
"That… was too close."
He stayed by the river a while longer, drinking, calming himself, trying to convince his pounding heart that he was safe. But he knew the truth.
This land was alive, and he was not welcome here.
When the sun began to sink once more, he carried what fruit he could find back toward his cave. Every shadow between the trees felt heavier now, every sound sharper. He had survived another day—but tomorrow, the wilderness might not let him go so easily