The first thing he feels is a slight tickle on his fingers and the cool sensation of wind on his cheek. Then, a rough surface, pressed against his entire backside.

  His eyelids twitch, conscious slowly returning. A deep groan escapes his lips. There’s no pain anymore, but there is a slight soreness in the head. Whatever that agony was, it’s gone now.

  Is that what dreams are like? That sucked… bad.

  It was one of the strangest nights he had ever had. Yesterday wasn’t even all that special, he has no clue where that dream even came from. Maybe it's because he keeps going to bed late, it’s the only real explanation for his mind creating that sensory-overload torture-nightmare. Seems he might need to reconsider that talk with his manager.

  Regardless, all days start with getting out of bed. So with silent joy that the awful experience was over, Todd opens his eyes to the beginning of a new morning.

  What he expected to see was the lifeless gray surface that acts as the ceiling to his crappy apartment. What he sees instead, is the smooth rustling of luscious green leaves.

  It’s funny how the mind can freeze like this, when faced with something impossible. Every synapse in Todd’s mind works furiously, trying to rationalize why his apartment ceiling was a forest canopy, and not gray painted plaster.

  Is my roof gone?

  He shakes himself from his stupor and sits up. Just as he figures, he’s not in his apartment. He's in a forest, with wide trees surrounding him on all sides, green leaves adorn their outstretched branches, moss and small fungal growths wrap themselves around their trunks.

  A variety of plant life—flowers and sprouts of all shapes—lay across the chaotic underbrush. Strong wooden roots snake though the floor, breaking through various patches of dirt, bushes, and stone.

  The forest is thick indeed, no matter how far he looks, all he can see is trees and more trees. He turns to look all around him, no change there, just more greenery as far as his vision can go.

  A few chirping birds, and a calming breeze is all he can hear. Despite the fact that he’s in a random forest that he has zero memory of entering, the place is undeniably beautiful. It’d be so peaceful if he weren't so shocked.

  Okay. Everything is okay. You're fine. You're fine and everything else is fine. It’s just a forest. What's so scary about a forest? Bears? Wolves?

  He decides to discard that line of thought.

  How could something like this happen? Did somebody take him from his apartment and place him here? He’s a very light sleeper, if somebody tried to break into his apartment, he’d wake up. And even if they broke in without a sound, they would still have to lift him out of bed! No way he wouldn't wake up to that!

  Unless he was drugged. As horrifying as that is, it’s the only reasonable conclusion. He moves a hand to his head, it still feels sore.

  What if…? What if that wasn’t a dream? What if those two voices broke into his apartment, drugged him, did something to him, and left him in the middle of a forest.

  He remembers last night, that splitting pain, that bright light, it all felt so real. What did they even do to him?

  He feels around his head, the same place of that miserable agony. He brushes his fingers over the area of interest, nothing seems different at first, until he feels a tiny scar beneath his hair. It's small—barely perceptible—but it's long, it goes from the top of his hairline to the very back of his neck. It's as if someone bisected his head down the middle, and quickly stitched him together.

  A shaky breath leaves his mouth. That confirms it then, that wasn’t a dream. It couldn't be. A scar so perfectly placed as to match his dream, it’s all too specific.

  Those two men did something to him, something that would scar the entire top of his head. But that just raises more questions. For instance, why is the scar healed? If his head was split open, then it would take far more time than a single night for it to scar over like this. The scar feels old, somehow.

  Also, why the forest, and why him? He runs the thoughts over in his head, the implications are disturbing. He’s on the edge of panic.

  Yet, no matter the fear, that doesn’t change the simple fact that he’s lost in the middle of a forest, with his ass in the dirt.

  I should check around, t-they could still be here.

  Todd tries to bring himself to his feet, he puts his palms on the ground and pushes, ready to bear the weight of his entire body. Yet, instead of feeling a familiar resistance, his arms shoot straight to full length, as if the ground isn’t there at all.

  Before he can think, Todd is wildly flipping through the air, a whole meter off the ground. Wind zips past his eyes, and his world is turned upside down, over and over again.

  “What the hell-! ” He yelps.

  His impromptu flight lasts only a few seconds, before he makes an abrupt landing—with his face flat on the ground. As his face sifts through the dirt, a moan of frustration slips out before he rolls himself over. His eyes dart around the forest. He’s a few meters away from where he was before, but aside from that, everything is exactly the same. Whatever just did that to him wasn’t here anymore.

  A hand raises to touch his face, despite being driven right into the dirt, it doesn’t hurt all that much… Actually—correction—it doesn’t hurt, period! There’s no blood, no scrapes, just a few specks of dirt. What!?

  Something threw him through the air like a toy, and slammed his face directly into the solid ground. A fall like that could kill a man, or at the very least scratch up their face good. What the hell happened!?

  He stares at his hands, Todd has an idea, but he must first put it to the test. He flips himself onto his stomach—he must be covered in dirt by now.

  Carefully, he places his two palms on the ground, each on one side of him.

  A proper push-up is something that Todd knows well enough. He got plenty of practice during his weird crossfit phase. But he’s not trying to exercise now, he just wants to check something.

  His legs are stretched, and his arms are where they should be, it’s good enough. With minimal effort, Todd begins lightly pushing against the ground, and like magic, he begins to move upwards.

  It's utterly insane, completely unbelievable, absurd to the highest degree. His arms barely shudder, not a single hint of exertion. It’s like he’s floating. This exercise killed him back in the day, and now he’s doing it without struggle.

  He goes up and down, up and down, up and down, and still, he feels like he could go on forever. Todd can’t imagine anybody moving like this, even the strongest person in the world must feel something when they do a push-up. But he feels, quite literally, nothing.

  That must be what sent him flying earlier—his own strength. He sent himself flying, because he tried to get up too fast.

  Carefully this time, he slowly raises himself into a standing position. Todd is trembling. He can’t peel his eyes away from his hands. These hands easily threw him several meters, and could very well do worse. At least if those men come back, he could defend himself.

  He needs to put this to the real test. He glances at a nearby tree, that one should work. He moves to the selected tree, even walking feels strangely easy. Up close, the tree is quite something, it’s stubby compared to the others, but it's as thick as an armchair and tall as a two story house. It must weigh tons.

  He braces his legs and places both palms on the bark, it feels mossy and rough under his touch. Slowly, he leans forward, putting pressure on the trunk. Not enough, he steadily increases his incline, pushing harder and harder.

  Soon, he hears what he’s afraid to hear—a creak. The tree groans under the pressure, it screams as it begins to lean against Todd’s strength. He looks down to his legs, his boots dig themselves into dirt to handle the burden. A sharp crack sounds out through the forest, the tree bark around his hands shatter inwards from the stress. Todd isn't even trying that hard, and yet the tree’s about to collapse!

  He quickly stops the pushing and scampers away. Looking at the tree, there are two deep indentations in the trunk, exactly where his hands were. The tree has been given a very noticeable slant.

  It’s unbelievable. Todd almost fell a tree, he pushed a tree so hard it cracked and tilted in place. And he did it with his bare hands. If he didn’t stop, he could have easily up-rooted the entire thing.

  His mind goes stark blank, his train-of-thought derailed.

  “This isn't possible… T-This is all completely wrong… I-I-” He stutters his words, trying to comprehend something that simply should not be possible.

  Humans, no matter what, have a limit of what they can do physically, and that limit cannot be broken. There have been many recorded instances of humans performing “superhuman feats,” like lifting cars and such. That's all well and good of course, but to push over an entire tree—roots and all? That is well within the realm of impossibility.

  Ever since he woke up, he’s been faced with absurdity after absurdity. The forest, the scar, and now… some kind of super-strength!? Did they do this to him, those voices, what did they do!?

  He stumbles around. His own body carries itself in a random direction, and leans against a tree. It’s covered in fungus, but he can't bring himself to care. Nothing makes sense, it’s all so much. His brain is overloading.

  He needs to call somebody, he needs his parents, he needs to hear them. They’ll tell him he’s fine, that all he needs to do is stay right there and they’ll come and pick him up. Just like that birthday party at the Nedleys’ house.

  He instinctively tries to grab his phone from his coat pocket, but his hand bumps against solid leather, a failed attempt to reach a pocket that isn’t there.

  From the constant bombardment of stress, he hadn’t even gotten a good look at himself.

  His eyes cautiously wander down his body, he isn’t wearing his coat, and he isn’t wearing the t-shirt and jeans he went to bed in either. He’s wearing something completely outlandish.

  A black, long-sleeved shirt of cotton cloth adorns his body and tucks into his pants. A length of white string is loosely woven into the cuffs and collar, likely to adjust the width for the wrists and neck. It's sturdy, comfortable, and likely well used, if the rips and frayed strands were anything to go by.

  A sleeveless leather vest is worn over the black shirt. Stamped across its surface are various studs made of bronze and iron. What little stitchwork can be found is masterfully done, with golden threads instead of a normal cotton. The most eye-catching aspect though, is the intricate designs covering the leather surface, thousands of little nicks and indents from a leatherworker’s tools come together to create an incredible pattern of spires, waves, and roots.

  On his knees and elbows are armored pads made of bright steel, wrapped tightly to his joints with solid leather belts. The armor itself is incredibly thick, if it wasn’t for his sudden burst of super-strength, it would probably feel like lead bars were strapped to his limbs. Concerningly, the metal surface is scraped and dented to hell.

  His pants are made of cotton, frayed all the same as his shirt, and tied to his waist with a rope instead of a belt.

  On his feet are black leather boots, reaching up his legs and stopping right before his knees. Steel plating is adhered to both the toe and the heel of the soles. They too have the detailed leather-work of the vest—probably made by the same person, if he had to guess.

  These clothes are the furthest one can get from the dress-ware of a normal person, and they are most certainly not what he went to sleep in. He looks like a cosplayer, it’s as if he walked straight out of a convention, or a renaissance fair.

  He’s done, he can’t take it anymore. He’s been awake for less than five minutes and the only thing saving his mind from a full-on panic attack, is that he keeps finding more reasons to have a panic-attack.

  The leg muscles give out from beneath him, and slowly, he slides his back down the tree until his ass is once more in the dirt. He stares ahead with a glossy look in his eyes.

  “Am I dead…?” A quiet tone of fear within his voice.

  Considering everything before him, the scar, the clothes, the forest, the physics defying strength he suddenly acquired. He’s almost certainly not dead, but he can’t be sure of that. His eyes glance off into the forest, looking at nothing in particular.

  If he is dead, he wishes his parents wouldn't find out. They don’t deserve that, they’re wonderful people, and they shouldn't waste tears on him. His siblings too, they got great lives ahead of them, burying their brother shouldn't be a part of that. In fact, it might just be for the best that they never find him ever again.

  “No.” He interrupts the dark thoughts rising in his head.

  A deep breath, in through the nose, then out the mouth. Just like mom taught him. He scratches his cheek with a finger, he savors the feeling.

  “I’m not dead, not yet.”

  It would be just like him to give up, throw in the towel at the first sign of pressure. It’s why he failed College, it's why he ended up in that miserable apartment.

  Doesn’t he want to be exceptional? Or is he gonna give that up too? All his life, he wanted to make something of himself, but he can’t do that if he's dead in the middle of a forest.

  Plus, he needs to try—to save his family from the pain of a dead son.

  With a back straightened out, Todd’s arms grab the fungus ridden trunk and lift him up to his feet with ease.

  He has no clue where he is, how he got here, or what happened to him in the first place. But this isn't College, you can’t just run away from it all and rot.

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Whatever questions he has can be filed away for later, what matters now is… survival. Black boots march their way back to where it began, a Todd shaped imprint is visible on the forest floor, it's where he woke up.

  He stands in the imprint, arms crossed, a look of solid steel in his eyes.

  “Alright!” He claps his hands once, with vigor. “Let's figure this out!”

  Looking around the forest, he attempts to recall any useful information, specifically from those wilderness survival shows he used to watch. He remembers how they always made a big deal about directions, so Todd looks up to gauge the sun’s position, the light barely peeks through the canopy. It’s mid-day, so he can’t use the sun to find east and west just yet.

  He goes down on his knees, surveying the various grass and plant-life. Nothing is recognizable. The only plant he could recognize is poison ivy, and he can’t see any of that around here.

  He approaches a tree, taking in the sight of an ever-expanding colony of fungal disks and caps growing out of the moist bark. Todd walks away, he doesn’t know crap about mushrooms anyhow.

  A few more minutes are spent carefully inspecting the area. Walking around. Making mental notes. Taking in the sights, the sounds, and the feeling of the woods.

  After carefully investigating his fourth patch of rocks, Todd sits on a fallen log, and puts his head in his hands.

  “Yeah, I haven’t a fucking clue what i'm doing,” dejection leaks from his voice. “Bear Grylls… I failed you.”

  The information from those programs didn’t stick as much as he would have hoped. He’s not sniveling on the floor like a child, as he was before, but his position hasn't changed much.

  Hunched over his legs, he takes a brief look at his hand. Even if it makes no sense, he does have some form of super-strength. Starting a fire, and maybe hunting for food, should be easy with power like this. If it’s in his tool-box, might as well use it.

  He begins to stand up before, suddenly, a small glint of metal catches his eyes. Just a few feet away from where he’s sat, a small glimmer is shining through a small brush of plants.

  It’s hardly noticeable, he almost missed it, but it's intriguing enough to investigate. Todd gets up from the fallen log and slowly makes his way to the glimmer. Peering into the brush, he spots something both surprising, and very useful.

  It's an axe. More specifically, it's a battle axe. Not an axe for chopping wood as much as it is an axe for chopping heads. It’s lying down in the plants, displayed on a pedestal of greenery.

  It’s got a sturdy wooden handle, as long as his arm, and lacquered to a dark shine. On the end of the handle is a metal pommel, with a bright green ribbon wrapped around it, fluttering about. The axe is double-headed, with large and intimidating steel blades jutting out on both sides. Etched into the head is more of that intricate design that was found on the vest and boots—it might be another part of a set.

  Currently, the axe is in a sheath, a circular leather band wraps completely around both blades, covering the sharp bits, but exposing the designs. The sheath also possesses a long strap, used to sling around one’s back, like a single-strap duffle-bag.

  People don’t just leave weapons lying around in random forests. So considering all reasonable logic, the axe was probably left for him. It’s great to have a tool like this, without it, Todd thought he would have to split wood with bare strength alone.

  He reaches down and picks it out from the bush, the green ribbon trailing behind it. Unsurprisingly, the axe weighs nothing in his hands. Yet, for some reason he cannot explain, it feels… good to hold. The axe feels welcome in his grip, as if it was made for his hands, and his hands alone.

  Creepy.

  He only ever swung an axe once, during a family camping trip where his dad asked if he wanted to chop the wood. He took the axe in his hands, swung down at the log, and damn near took his foot off. His dad decided to take over from there.

  He was 12 then, but he’s 19 now. So maybe with extra years of experience—and super-strength—he’ll be able to chop wood properly.

  The sheathed axe is flung over his shoulders, the strap wraps around his vest, securing it on his back with the blades facing downwards, the ribbon flutters behind him in the wind. It doesn’t weigh a thing.

  There’s a large log on the ground not far from where the axe was sitting. It’s long, wide, and dried out, all the markings for good firewood. But it will need a slight size reduction. Todd begins to fiddle with the straps on his back, trying to get the axe out its sheath.

  As he makes his way over to his future firewood, he finally manages to unlatch the axe from its leather prison, and holds up the steel weapon for all to see.

  It's sharp. Obscenely so. The edges glisten as the sun’s light leaks through the upper canopy. Holding it to his eyes, the blades look perfect, no impurities at all. It's 2 crescents of precise destruction on a stick, you could do brain surgery with an implement like this.

  His legs move away from each other as he holds the axe above his head. Eyes remain on the log, visualizing the blade coming down on it. He needs to control his strength here. If twitching his arms too much can launch himself, then he must be careful with how he handles swinging an axe.

  His shoulders are square and his eyes are forward, dad’s own advice. When he finally feels ready, Todd unleashes the sharp edge on the wood, swinging down with just enough force to—hopefully—cut the log in two.

  When the axe makes contact, two things happen at once. First: the axe smashes through the log, cutting through the entire width, and continuing into the ground with a loud crack. Second: the log explodes at the sudden trauma, sending two smaller pieces—and a million little wood-chips—flying in every direction.

  “Dammit!” He screams in anger, particles getting in his eyes.

  He lets go of the axe, stumbles backwards, and shakes himself off. Small wood chips fall off him with the movement. Hands rub his eyes and attempt to clear the debris. When he regains his sight, he looks upon the chaos he wrought.

  The two smaller log-pieces were very far apart, their cross-sections are anything but clean. Small chips of freshly exposed wood cover the impact zone. The axe itself is still embedded in the ground.

  Further inspection shows that the log was apparently not lying on the soft forest soil, but instead, on an exposed stone floor covered in moss, a stone floor which Todd just drove his only tool straight into.

  The green ribbon flaps like a flag on a flag-pole. Todd reaches for the handle with a grumble. Less than a minute since he got it, and he probably chipped the damn thing. With a firm grip, he effortlessly yanks the thing out of the stone, and inspect the blade.

  Surprisingly, the edge is still intact, as perfect as it was before. He puts a finger against the glimmering edge. Despite being hacked against solid rock, it was still sharp as hell.

  “Sturdy… good to know.” He says to himself. He flexes an arm, “Jeez, how strong am I?”

  He barely struck the log, and still he went too far. The axe even sank a whole foot into solid rock. It’s a disturbing thought but, how far can he go? He brushes it off, just another question distracting him from survival.

  Todd lays the axe on the ground. He’s about to grab one of the log pieces, before he spots something deeper into the forest.

  Past the tree’s, as far as he can see. Todd spots something there, and instantly throws himself into action.

  Its movement. Something is approaching him, shaking the foliage as it crosses the woods.

  Todd doesn't see what it is, and he doesn’t stay around to check. The moment he recognizes danger, he leaps into a nearby bush. It could be a deer, or maybe a rabbit, but it doesn’t matter to him. It's something, and it's coming towards him.

  Breaths stifled and shaking suppressed, Todd hopes it leaves him alone. The thing in the woods, it's closer now, he can even begin to hear the distant rustling. It keeps a steady pace as it moves, blatant in its approach. The thing doesn't need to hide, It owns this forest.

  Oh god, Oh god! I was so confident. He thinks, subsumed in his bushy hiding spot. I should of ran! Why didn’t I run! I should of taken the axe, and just ran! The ax-.

  The axe! His eyes leave the bush. The axe was laying on the ground next to the two logs, completely forgotten. If it sees it, it might get suspicious.

  You stupid, stupid, stupid fucking idiot! Coward! He shakes with barely contained rage, mostly at himself.

  It’s steps come closer, and closer, they sound clear as day. Even if he did run, it would see him, and he dreads the idea that it would give chase. He chose this bush, now he has to lie in it.

  The monster steps out of the deeper woods, brushing the plants aside. The sun above shines upon its form. Its fearless strides continue onward, as it makes itself clear to view.

  But it isn’t a monster, or an animal. It’s a person. A girl! She walks by Todd, oblivious to his hiding spot, and makes her way forward.

  Her spine is ramrod straight, arms behind her back, her whole demeanor just screams discipline. She walks through the rough terrain with endless grace, boots always hitting their mark, landing in the perfect spot with barely a stumble. She has no need to look down, she’s confident in her strides.

  Black hair, unnaturally straight, flows from the top of her head, cut off in a perfect line right before the shoulders. It's well maintained, not a single hair is out of place, despite her trek through the thicket.

  She looks back and forth, marching undisturbed. Her turning head briefly gives Todd a look at her face. It’s the face of a stern instructor, not cold, but certainly calculating. Her eyes are black pits, squinted in focus, and her mouth is pinched shut. With the way her face is structured, it’s impossible to guess her age, she could be in her 20s or in her 40s.

  Just like Todd, she’s also wearing wild fantasy clothing. Her upper body is covered in a bright white tunic, unbuttoned, and at least a few sizes too big for her. String is tied around various parts of her arms, to keep the extra abundance of cloth contained. It seems the tunic would have draped much farther down her body, if the extra cloth wasn’t tied around her waist line.

  On her legs, she’s wearing a set of black baggy pants that Todd could only describe as “pantaloons.”

  The only part of clothing that seems to fit are the boots. Shiny, black leather boots reach up to her knees, completely unsuited to a forest hike, unlike Todd’s steel reinforced pair.

  Her purposeful march stops abruptly as she spots Todd’s axe, and the disaster surrounding it.

  She strolls over the discarded weapon, bending down and slowly running a hand over the dark handle.

  Then, she shoots to her feet, and immediately drops into a battle stance. Her body turns, revealing a sword on her waist. It’s long, straight, and thin, like a rapier, but missing a cross-guard. More a long knife, than a sword.

  There's no sheath to hold it, but instead, the blade is precariously tied to a length of rope around her waist. It would be very easy for her to cut herself, storing a weapon like that.

  One hand delicately touches the bare edge of the blade, while the other is wrapped around the handle, ready to draw and cut down whatever moves.

  She canvasses the surrounding forest, looking every which way, preparing to respond if any threat would make itself known. The look in her eyes tell of her intentions, she’s dangerous, and dead serious.

  Todd has no doubts in his mind, if this shark of a woman finds him, she’ll kill him. He dares not move a muscle in her presence. If he’s discovered, he's dead, it doesn't matter if he has super-strength now, just look at the way she moves. He could wail on her all he likes, he’ll just miss, he's certain of it.

  She turns about, locked in her stance, aware of every little thing but Todd himself. Her eyes just missing him, over and over.

  Then, she stops on a dime. Todd’s breath hitches, as she turns to face his hiding place. Her black eyes aren’t passing over him this time, because now, she's looking directly at him. He’s found, he’s dead.

  The severe expression on her face softens as she sees him, her hands leave the sword on her hip, and rest behind her back once again. The tension in her body ceases, as she straightens her back, standing in what seems to be her… “default posture.”

  She opens her mouth to address him, an unfamiliar accent defines a calm and dignified voice.

  “Galligher, why are you in a bush?” She asks bluntly.

  That's his name!? She just addressed him with his name, his family name, but still! Todd doesn't know this person, but should he? He'd probably remember someone like her. She knows him, though. Should he respond?

  “I see you Galligher, I am—quite literally—looking at the whites of your eyes.” She speaks up, her tone is dead-pan.

  She knows he’s here, she doesn’t look ready to kill anymore, but you never know. Her eyebrow raises in confusion. He can’t stall anymore, a move needs to be made!

  With no options left, Todd slowly raises himself out of the bush, hands raised in submission. He hopes she doesn't notice the fear on his face, but who’s he kidding, she definitely sees his fear. Once he finally makes his way out of the bush, she addresses him again, the stern expression never leaving her face.

  “Ah… finally, he makes his grand entrance. Splendid.” She spreads her arms out, her tone reeks with sarcasm.

  Todd doesn't know how to reply to this, she doesn't look at him as a stranger, but with familiarity, she knows his face, and his name.

  “I feel as if I must ask, though, for what reason were you hiding in a bush?” She raises an eyebrow.

  He didn’t prepare for that question. Todd can’t help himself, nothing comes to mind, he opens his mouth without thinking.

  “A…a bear?” He stutters out a weak reply.

  “You saw…a bear?” Her eyebrow raises even higher.

  “...Yes?”

  “You saw a bear…in the forest…famed for having no bears in it. Is that right?” She sounds doubtful.

  Her lifeless gaze bores into him, she’s immense. He's just a puzzle to her, a very easy puzzle. Todd can’t even reply to that question, it seems she knows that too.

  “Oh well…” She shrugs. “If you saw a bear, then you saw a bear. Though, I suppose that means these woods are due for a name-change, yes?” She asks with amusement.

  “...Um, sure?” He gives her a nervous smile, she does not give one back.

  She turns her back to him, approaches his axe, and picks it off the floor, talking as she does so.

  “You have been gone for three hours now, we believed you were just training, but it is nice to see you were…collecting firewood.” She gestures to the mess of wood-chips and failure. “The effort is…appreciated.” Her words are tinged with mockery.

  Her hands move forward, offering the axe to him, handle first. Now that she’s close, it’s clear to see that she’s a little bit taller than he is.

  He cautiously takes the axe from her, worried she might try something. As soon as it’s in his hands again, she leaves to collect the two logs.

  The ravaged logs both leave the ground and find their way gracefully into her outstretched arms, she doesn’t even flinch at the effort, it might be super-strength, like his.

  She takes her leave, with the two logs in her arms. The black shiny boots begin stepping in the same direction they appeared from, the extra burden having no effect on the refined march. Before she walks deeper into the forest, she turns around to look at Todd questioningly.

  “Are you not coming back to camp? You informed us you would be gone for only an hour. It has been three, Galligher. Lord Frammis is getting impatient.” She looks away for a moment. “...and insufferable.”

  His feet are melded to the ground. This woman doesn’t seem like she’s trying to trick him, but who knows, she could be a master manipulator. What if he says no to her?

  Todd doesn't know this strange woman, and doesn’t know how she knows him, but you usually don’t give weapons to people you want to kill, so he could probably trust her. Just a little bit.

  She carries herself like a professional, with confidence in every action, so she must clearly know what’s going on here. Maybe she can answer some of his questions, she might even know about the two voices.

  Plus, she mentioned a camp. Camps are usually known to have food, water, shelter, and all manner of things for survival. Todd isn’t really sure he would do well out here by himself, super-powers or not.

  This lady is probably his best bet.

  “Uh…yeah, I'm coming!” He stumbles over to her, axe held in hand. She gives a quick nod, and begins her walk into the forest. Todd follows right behind her.