The first thing that hit me wasn't the cold of the damp earth beneath my palms, or the sharp scent of pine and wet stone filling my lungs—it was the silence. Not the quiet of an empty room, but a vast, living stillness that stretched out as far as I could see, broken only by the gentle gurgle of water somewhere ahead. I pushed myself up from the patch of soft moss I'd been lying on, my muscles screaming in protest as if I'd been thrown from a moving vehicle. My clothes were torn and caked with mud, but they weren't mine—not the ones I'd worn when I'd closed my eyes last night in my small apartment in the city.
I looked down at my hands. Calloused, stronger than I remembered, marked with small cuts and scrapes that I couldn't explain. Around my wrist was a thick leather band with a strange, glowing stone set into it—pulsing with a soft blue light that seemed to thrum in time with my heartbeat. Where was I? How did I get here? The last thing I could recall was staring at my grandfather's old journal, the pages filled with faded maps and cryptic notes about a "world beyond our own, where every soul must fight to build their place." I'd thought it was just the ramblings of an old man lost in his fantasies. Now, as I scanned the landscape before me, I knew better.
Rolling hills covered in emerald grass rolled toward distant mountains capped with snow that glinted like diamonds under a sun that seemed slightly larger than the one I'd always known. To my left, a dense forest rose up, its trees so tall their tops disappeared into a canopy of leaves so thick they blocked out most of the sky. To my right, cutting through the greenery like a silver ribbon, was the stream I'd heard earlier—clear and fast-moving, with what looked like silver fish darting beneath its surface.
Unsure of what these lands may hold, I knew I couldn't afford to stand still and wait for answers. Survival came first. I'd always been practical, even back home—fixing things with my own hands, growing herbs on my windowsill, learning how to fish at my grandfather's cabin every summer. Those skills felt more vital now than ever. I decided it was best to grow my own settlement here, to carve out a space that could keep me safe and sustain me until I figured out how to get back—or if going back was even an option.
Looking at my surroundings, this new place had a lot of potential. Greeneries were everywhere—wild berries dotted the bushes along the stream bank, tall stalks of grain-like plants swayed in the breeze, and fruit trees heavy with unfamiliar but promising-looking produce grew at the edge of the forest. But water and food were the foundation of any home, and the stream was too valuable to ignore. A found stream—guest this could be my settlement's first source of food. I should build a fishery here.
I spent the first hour just observing, moving carefully through the tall grass to avoid disturbing anything that might be hiding in it. The forest edge yielded fallen branches of sturdy wood—oak, by the look and feel of it—along with vines strong enough to bind them together. I gathered stones from the stream bed, smooth and heavy, perfect for anchoring structures. My hands moved with a familiarity that surprised me, as if I'd done this a hundred times before. The glowing stone on my wrist warmed as I worked, and every so often, a small pulse of light would make the wood and vines in my hands feel lighter, easier to shape.
I start collecting woods and some material I need to build the fishery, stacking them in a clear spot just above the stream's highest water line. I marked out the area with stakes I'd carved from thinner branches, creating a rectangular frame ten feet long and five feet wide. The plan was simple: build a low wall of stones along the stream bank to create a shallow pool where fish could be corralled, then construct a wooden platform with a roof to shelter the area and provide a place to process my catch. I'd add woven baskets at the entrance to let small fish pass through while trapping the larger ones—something my grandfather had taught me for the lakes back home.
I build the fishery first because I need to secure my food first. With each stone I placed, each beam I hammered into place using a heavy branch as a mallet, I felt a sense of purpose growing stronger inside me. This wasn't just about survival anymore—it was about building something from nothing, about claiming a piece of this strange world as my own. As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, painting the clouds in shades of orange and purple, I stepped back to look at what I'd created.
The fishery stood solid against the stream bank, its wooden beams fitted together so tightly they barely shifted when I pushed against them. The stone wall held firm, and already I could see fish swimming into the shallow pool I'd made. I'd woven a rough net from vines and grasses, and as I lowered it into the water, I felt the familiar tug of something heavy on the line. With a quick pull, I lifted out a silver fish about the size of my forearm—sleek and healthy, its scales shimmering in the fading light.
I built a small fire pit a safe distance from the wooden structure, using dry leaves and twigs to start a flame. As I cleaned and cooked the fish over the fire, the smell of roasting meat filled the air, making my empty stomach clench with hunger. But as I sat there, eating my first meal in this new world and watching the stars begin to appear in the darkening sky, I noticed something else. The glowing stone on my wrist was brighter now, and in its light, I could see faint lines in the ground around my fishery—marks that looked almost like roads, leading deeper into the forest and toward the distant hills.
And then I heard it. A sound that made my blood run cold—a low growl, coming from the trees just beyond my firelight. It was bigger than any animal I'd ever heard back home, and it was getting closer. I grabbed the heavy branch I'd used as a mallet, holding it like a club as I stood up, my muscles tensed and ready to fight. My fishery was secure. My first meal was eaten. But I knew now that building a home in this world would take more than just wood and stone—it would take strength, courage, and the will to face whatever dangers lay hidden in the shadows.
The growl echoed again, closer this time, and I could see pairs of glowing yellow eyes reflecting the light of my fire. This was just the beginning. My quest to build a home here had only started—and already, the action was about to begin.