"Yawen!" A young boy shouted from a distance, busy picking a flower from a dark nook of a tree.
"Yes, Xavier?" Yawen shouted back as she started heading in his direction. She had picked up a few words already, mostly basic ones like yes, no, more, thank you, I am, you are. It allowed her to talk very brokenly, but she was not worried.
She loved languages and always learned them quickly. Hence why she already knew over six before her forties, while also having worked and gained her Phd.
This might sound insane, but most of the people she worked with had similar talents. All of them being the top in at least one area.
"Look what I found," Xavier said excitedly as he showed Yawen the flower he had picked. Taking it from Xavier, Yawen looked at it in curiosity.
The flower looked like a rose, petals tightly packed. Yet the color was strange, it was slightly glowing blue while having purple petals. Taking it to the shade of one of the trees she could see the glow clearer.
"Wow!" Gala exclaimed, having completely missed the glowing effect while the flower was in the sun.
"It's beautiful," Yawen said, wishing she knew the words to allow the children to understand her. Looking at it she also wished for something to write on, wishing to note down the lovely moment.
They continued to explore, making sure to bring all the interesting and tasty things to Yawen for her to see. Soon she was fully covered in flowers and fruits.
{"We should head back now,"} Gala said, her brother pulling her sleeve as he wanted to go and find more things.
{"But the sun isn't down yet…"} He complained, causing Yawen to giggle.
She might not understand what they said, but she knew that tone. The tone of a child pleading for more of something, even though the child knew it was wrong. It reminded her of her daughter Tracy who would always want more and more if they would allow it.
The thought saddened her for a moment as she wondered if Edvard was alive. Whether he had dematerialized like many others, or whether he was somewhere safe or somewhere dangerous.
The kids stopped their fighting when they felt the sadness suddenly coming from Yawen. They quickly tried to cheer her up, Xavier putting his complaints behind him and helping Gala lead their new friend to their home. Hoping that a change of scenery would make her feel better.
Gala smiled brightly as she managed to reel her brother in for the first time, though she was worried why Yawen suddenly became sad. The joy of victory however won over her worry and caused her to strut proudly into the village.
Brimming with pride she led the worried Xavier and lost Yawen to her home. A cozy small wooden house on the outskirts of a farming village. Only twenty houses making up the entire village.
{"Oh! Who do we have here?"} An elderly man asked with a kind smile as he struck his farming fork into the tilled earth.
{"Papa, this is Yawen. Isn't she pretty?"} Gala answered as she hoped a flame would ignite between her papa and Yawen. Xavier and her having lost their mother some years ago due to a severe case of the common cold.
The elderly man had a few gray streaks in his hair, but his physique was good. Hard work had kept his body in shape, but also taken a toll on his bones. He was starting to feel it more with every passing day. Especially on rainy cold nights.
{"She certainly is, almost like your mother."} The elderly man said, ruffling Gala's hair and looking up at Yawen. {"Where are you from?"}
Putting her worries behind her, knowing it would do no good, Yawen looked at the man. Realizing it was a question but not how to answer, nor what was asked.
Luckily the kids took over and explained how they had found her on their way back from the Palika trees. A small natural orchard growing near the village.
{"Oh, you can't speak?"} The man asked, the kids quickly shaking their heads and explaining that she spoke a weird language.
{"I see. I am Piér,"} The man said, indicating to their village after introducing himself, {"And this is our home, Alryne. You are most welcome here."}
The man was slightly apprehensive hearing that the woman his kids had brought home could not speak their language. However, he was not one to show someone out for such a reason. Like most in the village, they cared not for what nationality someone was.
They cared only if the person was a good person, and Yawen had yet to show any indication of her not being someone decent.
{"Thank you,"} Yawen said after realizing that the man was welcoming her. Not knowing the customs of the land she slightly bowed her head, following the kids who dragged her to their home.
The house was amateurishly constructed. Made of wood and gaps large enough for a finger or even a hand often visible. Windows were simply places where no wall was, the door flimsy at best. In fact it would not take more than one or two pulls to ruin it.
Yawen did her best to not show her frown to the kids or Piér. She did not wish to seem ungrateful, but the house did not seem welcoming to her.
The inside was not better than the outside, in fact, it was far worse. The furniture was basic wooden structures crudely made, the floor a dirt floor. In one of the corners fruits were stored in baskets, with some having fallen out and lying on the ground.
In the center of the room there was a hearth, the entire house just one room. No toilet, no bedrooms. No privacy.
'This is better than sleeping outside,' Yawen comforted herself even though she did not agree with the sentiment. Finding that they did not even have beds did not help her convince herself.
What they used as bedding was just a bit of hay thrown over the ground. Allowing one to not be mud-covered when waking, but certainly not doing anything for comfort or even hygiene. Especially since she doubted that they would use new ones often.
It did not seem like the village had such a luxury based on the state of the houses.
...
Desperately clutching at his neck. Gasping for air. It took Edvard some time to realize that he could breathe normally. That there was no blood. It took even more to realize that he was in fact fine.
However, as he realized this he came to realize again that he was naked in a forest. Having no idea if this was the same area or not.
Yet he could not contemplate what was going on as a headache assaulted him as he tried to stand up. Falling back down he screamed in agony, his screams drowning out the howl of a wolf.
That was until the wolf walked through the dense vegetation and entered the small clearing Edvard was lying in.
Staring at its snarling mouth, Edvard forgot about the headache for a moment. However as he tried to climb onto his feet, the headache brought him back down.
Soon, he died again.
Time passed and the diversity of the animals coming to kill him kept increasing. Soon Edvard lost count of not just what animals might appear, but even of how many times he had died.Each time he would be frozen by the pain of his last death and a splitting headache. Until finally he managed to move despite the pain. It was still there, just as bad as always, but knowing that he would be ripped to shreds again got him to move through it.Hearing the howl, Edvard was half glad that it was a wolf. Efficient in killing and not one to play with their food. They made death far less painful than some others, specifically the big cats. Yet even they paled in comparison compared to hyenas.It had only happened once, yet it remained firmly in Edvard's thoughts. The bastard had torn at him without bothering to kill him. Enjoying its meal without doing him the basic courtesy of killing him.Stumbling to his feet, Edvard moved with unsteady steps to a nearby tree. Do
Wiping his head side to side, Edvard searched desperately for something he could use. Ignoring the pain that each breath brought him and the loss of feeling in his legs. He searched like he had never searched before.When he saw a stone nearby he desperately pulled himself towards it. Stretching his arm, his fingers, his hips. A searing pain flowing through him as his broken ribs pierced into his body. As he forced his body into a position it had never gone into before.'Got you now.' Edvard thought as his fingers just barely touched the stone. Wiggling it closer he managed to take it in his hand. Without delay, he swung. He swung so hard that his arm, his hand, his shoulder, they all cried out in pain. Yet he did not stop.With each swing he could hear the crack of the tiger's skull. Yet he did not stop, not even after it died. He kept swinging until his arm would no longer move.'Thank goodness…' Edvard thought as he finally relaxed. Still being
Edvard cursed as a piercing pain shot through him from his left shoulder. Luckily the momentum from the ape brought him to the ground, Edvard using it to fall onto the ape. Causing it to shriek out in pain and let go of his shoulder.Rolling to the side, Edvard swung madly with the club in his left hand. The ape shrieking in pain as the hit landed. Not wasting any time Edvard focused on getting up and only then turning around.Finding the ape also on its feet and baring its fangs at him."Come on!" Edvard shouted, feinting with the short spear in his right. The ape jumping back to avoid the strike. "Come on!" He shouted again.Roaring, the ape suddenly charged. Edvard only barely managing to bring the spear in its path. It stopped just short of it, not seeing the coming club. With a crack, the ape flew to the side as the club fell from Edvard's arm."Fuck!" He shouted in pain, his entire left arm numb after that hit. His back and chest warmed by th
This repeated a number of times. However, sometimes it was not sleep that got him. Rather it was food poisoning. Knowing that he would likely only survive a day or two, Edvard made sure to sample a different type of berry, fruit, nut, mushroom, anything edible each day.Slowly he learned what was poisonous, what was hallucinogenic, and what was just normal food.With time, the deaths became more often than not caused by the food. When Edvard died on the third day, having managed to wake to the slightest sound, he started feeling that he should only eat what he knew was safe.This single change allowed him to survive for an entire week. By which time he had died hundreds of times. His mind had changed, his perception of life becoming one of survival and constant fights. With his nights spent thinking of a life long passed.He would constantly talk with himself like a madman. How else was he to vent his anger?It was also at this time when the animal
Rushing to make some distance, Edvard picked up one of his other spears, having many placed in strategic locations around his sleeping area.The orc roared in anger as it saw Edvard continuing to dodge its attacks. An act of cowardice, one which could only be atoned for through death.With little care for being unarmed, the orc rushed towards Edvard. Throwing explosive punches in a truly magnificent show of speed and strength. Edvard only barely managed to keep sight of the flurry of fists, relying more on his body's instincts than his sights.Finally, after a great deal of dodging, Edvard managed to find an opening. Ducking to the side he slid under the attack and thrust with his spear. A good hit, the entire stone blade entering the orcs side.Yet, instead of crying in pain, the orc smiled. Sending another punch which Edvard only managed to dodge by abandoning his spear which had become stuck in the orc's side."Fucking hell. What is he made of?"
Instead, he started searching for a cave and slowly made new traps to secure the area. It took a few months, but he felt quite good about the new situation.The cave he had chosen was on the side of a mountain, not high up and easy to access. It was also close to a nearby spring and had plenty of obsidian nearby. The mountainous area Edvard felt confident few would come from, allowing him to place his focus on securing the cave and the area in front of it.He had realized the danger of the cave. It was not deep, just 10 or so meters (33ft). If he was to find himself trapped inside he realized he would have little chance of surviving the encounter.So, to counter this he started by making fences and later a garden to make life easier. His hope was to turn the fences into walls, though he failed to see how he was supposed to accomplish that alone.The fences however were not hard to make and Edvard felt they would do the job. They were not pretty, with spik
Looking at the bloodied area with the now mangled bodies of what he could only think of as children. Edvard felt terrible, he felt like a monster. Images of Roland and Tracy overlapped in his mind, causing him to fall to his knees in horror.He could not bear this and in anger and despair, he shouted to the heavens. "Why!? Why must you torture me! First physical torment! And now... Have you no soul!?"He had no thought that he would receive a reply, but venting helped him at least stabilize. Yet, he kept staring at what he had done and it kept eating at him.He wished he could take the time to bury the six childlike figures, but he knew it was useless. More would come and he couldn't spare the time. Yet, as he stood up and started moving away rationale and logic did not help him feel any better.No matter what he tried he could not block the images from his mind, tormenting him each step of the way.He tried his best to focus on work, to apply the
For the next week he struggled with these thoughts, surviving against teen beasts of prey no longer difficult for him. Slowly he managed to close his heart to emotion, leaving only a small hole in this enclosure. His wife and children filling it and no one else.So, time started flowing again, Edvard becoming colder and colder as the weeks turned into months. Even his memory of Yawen and his children started to fade. At night he would toss and turn as he failed to recall their voices.Slowly even their faces started fading. Only his love for them stayed strong and kept him from growing insane and completely detached from life.In this life, he had realized the limitations of a cave. Not only could it easily be flooded, but it could also become his grave. Yet, the same could be said of a normal house.Instead, Edvard took to the trees. Having become proficient in rope making and weaving, and having the tools at the ready, he started with a basic treehouse