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Extract overheard by a nameless soldier during a short lull in the Forsaken Pass siege.
Speakers identified as the Warring Duchess of Istral and her majordomo.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit!”
Soil and shattered bones were flying in every direction. The beast had quickly reacted to the boy’s sprint and, fully woken, was now chasing him, tons and tons of murderous fury eating at the terrain with the speed of a galloping horse.
The cavern floor trembled under the bear’s thunderous steps, each bringing him nearer to his prey.
Its terrible maw foamed with anticipation, showing rows of razor-sharp fangs the size of a small sword.
Not every day, dinner comes of its own accord, and the titan wanted to take this opportunity fully.
Omri never even looked back, the world around him turning into a blur, a single sight clear in his vision: the fissure in the wall from which he came, now his salvation, just a few seconds out of his reach.
Fighting the huge animal was not an option, not in the slightest. He knew that if the creature managed to catch him he would snap like a twig.
Each lunge of the ursine creature's massive legs covered four times the distance of Omri’s stride, every frantic heartbeat bringing them closer, close enough that he could now smell the oppressive stench of rotten meat coming from the bear's mouth.
When he finally reached the crevice, Omri dove into it, almost slamming into the wall, disregarding the long cuts left by the sharp seams of the tunnel, desperate to get some distance from the thing reaching for him.
Squeezing against the rocks like an eel, the thought of the bear stopping his pursuit briefly touched his mind.
The ground trembled as the giant collided with the narrow entrance.
Fortunately, his legs ignored the thought, starting to pump even faster.
They proved wiser than his brain.
The beast didn’t even pause after impact, its massive claws scraping on the rocks striding like nails on a chalkboard. The boy would not stay long enough to see if the monster's effort bore fruit.
Omri stopped only when his heart threatened to burst out of his chest.
It took him a couple of minutes to calm down, as the adrenaline quickly gave way to pain.
His body was a web of cuts and bruises, the maddening dash through the tunnels, out of the cliff walls, and into the undergrowth taking its toll.
He searched the dark from the top of a tree he climbed in the hazy run, not finding any sign of his pursuer.
Feeling a bit safer the reality of the situation made him almost cry.
Finding out this way what was actually on top of the island's pecking order was not an experience he enjoyed.
“How the hell am I supposed to fight something like that?” He thought, reminiscing about his last encounter.
An old memory came unbidden, his mind mocking him with some of the wisdom his master used to share.
“Prepare yourself Omri, analyze what you know, plan accordingly, use well all your tools, and no obstacle will seem too steep to climb”.
He took a minute to reassess.
“Considering the situation, the tools at my disposal, and the quality of my enemy I would say that I’m quite thoroughly fucked”.
Thinking back on everything he saw during his short stay on this random island in the middle of nowhere, the young hunter came to a realization.
“The wilderness, the real wilderness, is not something I’ve truly experienced. My training happened in a controlled environment that held no actual danger”.
Stretching his tired shoulders a bit, Omri changed his position on the branches, finding some relief for his tired limbs.
“Well, it challenged me plenty, and the peril was real, but I’ve not faced anything that could kill me as an afterthought, not in the temple, nor on our outings”.
For the first time since his shipwreck, he truly reflected on the possibility of braving the ocean waters.
“Maybe I can try my luck with a raft… maybe I can reach one of the other islands, and from there, land. Maybe it will be a more hospitable place than this deathtrap”.
His musings turned sour, ideas of makeshift ships scrapped one after the other, concluding that in the end, he would probably have to settle for some sort of canoe-like small boat.
Anger started bubbling inside him, pushing away the crippling fear that had taken hold of the boy.
“It is unacceptable. What’s the difference? This island, another island, does it matter where I go? If every corner of the wilds hides a new threat on my life, will running do anything?”
Finding his answer was easy, coming as fast as his anger had risen.
“It does not. I need to be better. Stronger, able to fight for myself in any fucked up place I may find myself into”.
And for the first time, he fully embraced his chosen path.
Fight or flight.
The answer was obvious.
He would fight, and he would prevail like he did against the sneaky bastard whose hide now rested on his shoulders.
Cold, calculated rage replaced the burning fury in his chest.
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With this new perspective in mind, he knew that things until now had been too easy, he knew he wasn’t doing enough.
But that would change.
Various explorations had given him a map of where he could and could not stick his nose, and as long as he stopped jumping into every horrifying situation dangled in front of him, he had time to train, learn, and improve.
Hours passed in the still-singing forest, the faint light of a thousand celestial bodies shining on the treetops, looking down from their perch in the sky as a lost young warrior wrestled with his insecurities, turning them into fuel for his growth.
The bear was more than another wake-up call.
It was a pivotal moment in the journey of someone who one day would reach for the stars in his quest for greatness.
He couldn’t sleep that night and waited for the sun to rise, his current shelter too precarious to let him rest.
When the first light of dawn came, he was already on the move.
As the sun started to kiss the treetops above, a tired and sore Omri reached the shallow river near his refuge.
Removing his makeshift clothing and weapons, he plunged into the cleansing waters, its cold embrace a relief for the bruised teen, and as he fully submerged in the azure stream, he was able to feel it again.
All the aches from his body, battered and broken, slowly faded away, as the boy focused on the faint tug at the center of his chest.
It wasn’t the powerful urge he felt in the cave, but the faint call was unmistakable, pulling him deeper toward the spring source as if carried by the flowing currents.
Still thinking, he got out of the river, quickly got his clothes and weapons back on, and started to walk with the stream in his hideout direction.
The island was weird, the animals were weird, and what was happening there was definitely weird.
He heard rumors about powerful beasts, about the perils of the forest depths, even back at the temple.
Everyone shrugged them off, usually telling him he was just hearing stories from some drunk lumberjack wanting to impress his friends.
Leaving aside how wrong they were, one thing he never heard about was water evoking any kind of freak sensation, and so a new picture started to form in Omri’s mind.
Pieces of the puzzle were coming together, still a hazy outline full of holes, but he guessed it was better than nothing.
“Whatever this is, the cliffs are probably holding, my answer”.
The tug was stronger deep in the caverns, could be felt in the sea, or, more generally, underwater, and it was calling him towards the stream source, or at least closer to the rocky walls hiding it.
“And I’m pretty sure it’s also related to the unusual sizes I’m seeing everywhere”.
Leaving aside all the animals, the vegetation was also all kinds of suspicious. He had similarly sized giants in the forest back home, but they also felt ancient, their branches no longer full of life.
Here, everything was thriving, fighting to grow more and more, viridian, verdant sprouts a neverending sight wherever he looked.
The youngster was satisfied with his theory but still didn’t know what to do with the musings.
Pushing aside the issue for a bit, he glanced up at the sun, finding it still far from its highest point, and when he looked down, ready to take the turn that would bring him home, the sight of his unmarred face staring at him from a still puddle on the ground stopped him on his tracks.
He brought a hand to his face, feeling only smooth skin.
“Where are all the scrapes?” He murmured, kneeling on the ground.
The faint outlines of where twigs, tree branches, and ferns hit him during his mad dash through the forest could be seen, but otherwise what stared back at him was the image of a perfectly healthy, if tired, young man. A pale young man.
“I don’t even have the shadow of a tan?”
His hands searched all over himself, tracing along what should have been crusty long cuts along his shoulders and ribcage, the inclement rocks scoring deeper wounds than the willowy woods.
He found superficial scarring, the bumps on his skin faintly itching, and nothing more.
He checked his tights, thinking about the crisscrossing mesh of bloody scrapes left after his feline encounter, and found not the shadow of a lesion.
He stood back up, shocked.
“Am I really that blind?”.
He quickly made his way to the creek, took out his knife, and without hesitation, scored a shallow cut on his outer thigh, before soaking himself in the water.
The wound stung a bit, cooled by the gentle currents, but when he got out, it was still bleeding, the sides of the slash visibly red.
Omri felt really stupid for a moment, before shaking his head and starting the trek to his temporary home, the faint slit tingling slightly.
“Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. I probably should have caught a small animal to test on tho…”.
After a while, exhaustion and embarrassment tinging his cheeks, he reached his usual hiding spot, located one of his stashes, grabbed some fruits to fill his stomach with, and fell on the pile of ferns and moss he used as a bed.
His eyes closed as soon as he touched the makeshift bunk, and the sweet relief of sleep claimed him.
He woke up, his stomach grumbling loudly, light faintly peeking through the branches covering the entrance of his resting place.
Omri felt strangely energetic, the ordeals of the previous day no longer weighing so much on his shoulders.
Leaving the small alcove, he had to do a double take, as the first rays of the rising sun shone in his eyes.
His brows rose in surprise, realizing he had slept for almost twenty-four hours.
Getting back into the cave with a frustrated expression, the boy gathered his weapons, adding his sword to the tally, picking up the steely implement for the first time since he got on the island.
He made his way toward the closest safe clearing he found in his explorations, and put down his spears, instead holding both of his blades in a tilted cross, the salute ingrained from years of repetition.
The youngster knew, instinctively, that he had been slacking.
Wondering, exploring, and hunting were all things he had to do to survive, but he could have easily carved some hours out of the long days to simply train his body, to keep his skills sharp.
Instead, freed from the yoke of his masters, he immediately defected in a more “relaxed” pattern. The peril was still there, but physically, he only pushed himself when something else intruded on his laziness.
And so, he would cast away his weakness, beginning to train in the only way he fully understood.
He sheathed the shorter dirk, and movement started flowing from his sword, slowly at first, as he patiently moved through each form of his routine.
The silvery metal in his hand began to pick up more and more speed, soon becoming a flash, cutting the air with razor-sharp precision.
Absentmindedly, the boy kept pushing his limit, not finding it where he expected, as whistling sounds now filled the clearing.
Sweat started to drip from his brows, scrunched up in focus, as he fluidly moved from one stance to the next.
“I’ve never been this fast”.
He brought his sword up in a long diagonal cut, before flourishing it to the right and sheathing it on his left side, in a last efficient display of skill.
Breathing heavily, Omri looked down at his hands.
“I’ve never even come close to being this fast”.
The surprises didn’t stop there, as the youth ate through his exercises effortlessly.
Once he was done, he sat down, a thin sheen of sweat covering him from head to toe.
Wordlessly, he got back up, walked toward a fallen tree eying him from one edge of his training spot, grabbed the lighter top side, and lifted it in a single movement.
He went to the thicker end, and struggling a bit, brought the large mass over his head.
Trying to pick up the whole thing proved too much, but moving it a few inches from the ground was enough to confirm his suspicions.
He was stronger. Noticeably stronger. People don’t get stronger eating fruits and scarce cuts of meat while walking half a marathon every day.
Again, he examined his body, something gnawing at the edge of his brain.
He still recognized himself, with the same lithe physique as ever, corded muscles twisting as he moved around in his look-over.
Not an ounce thinner. The shallow cut on his thigh no longer present.
The laugh that left his lips was a wild, malicious thing.
“Maybe I’m not so dumb. Maybe, just maybe, I truly have a chance”.