So yeah, there I was.

  Lying in a pile of grass waiting for the sun to come back up.

  I was itchy, cold, and covered in bugs.

  So basically just another day at the office.

  Whoever said prairies don’t get cold at night needs to be sued for damages.

  Past me included.

  Ugh. This sucks.

  The grass was like a thousand needles digging into me. Every rustle of a grass sounded like something was coming to eat me. And, sure enough, there was a spider crawling up my leg with a death wish.

  At least there’s only a bit of night left.

  I did manage to get some sleep too so there’s that.

  But really, if this is how I have to spend every night I’m going to lose my sanity long before I get eaten by a dragon.

  Oh is that the sun coming up over the horizon?

  Perfect timing.

  I stood up, stretched, wiped myself off, and shook off the creepy-crawlies who had made me their personal heater.

  Buncha pests.

  I emptied out my shirt and ignored whatever crawled out before putting it back on.

  Hygiene was dead. I had to move on.

  I couldn’t help but think about how nice it would be to have a shower. That is, until my stomach started hurting.

  Was this hunger?

  I felt this tight knot in my stomach.

  I knew it’d been a while since I ate, but surely… this wasn’t real hunger right?

  I needed food.

  Now.

  I took a look at my surroundings.

  Still nothing except the tips of trees in the distance.

  Okay. That’s my goal.

  Reach trees.

  I rolled my neck, cracked my fingers, and stretched my legs.

  If I was going to seriously try to reach them today then I needed to prepare myself.

  Based on how long I walked yesterday they still seem to be a good way off.

  Time to run.

  I set myself into a runner’s starting position like I knew what I was doing.

  Spoiler alert: I did not.

  On your marks!

  Get set!

  Go!

  As soon as I took a step forward I got a cramp in my calf and collapsed.

  “SHIT.”

  Sleeping on the ground sucked balls!

  Carefully I massaged my leg, waiting for the cramp to subside.

  I knew I wasn’t very athletic but seriously? This bad?

  Jeez.

  Once the pain faded I stood back up and just started walking.

  Was I fast?

  No.

  But the light breeze felt nice, and after sleeping on the ground any progress was good.

  So I walked.

  And walked.

  And stumbled, and tripped, and cursed under my breath.

  Each step felt like it took an eternity, but hey—progress was progress.

  My stomach was a twisted knot of pain and torture. Like a rabid animal looking for anything to chew on.

  This was definitely hunger.

  Not the ‘Oh, I missed lunch’ kind, but the ‘Corporate forgot to order catering for an all-day meeting and now you’re stuck pretending you’re fine’ kind.

  But hey!

  I think those trees are getting closer! I can see more of them now!

  No longer just some vague green off in the distance, I can see some brown bark too!

  Wow.

  Who knew nature was so beautiful.

  It still took a long time, but when I finally realized the scale of them I was almost there.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  I could actually see roots!

  A couple hours later (I checked by looking at the sun… Still barely moving. Dick.) I was finally staring up at the trees.

  They were massive.

  Five hundred feet, easy.

  Either they had their own zip code or a secret tree gym membership.

  I went to the nearest one and gave it a hug.

  My outstretched arms didn’t even come close to reaching around it.

  These things were freaking massive.

  Made me wonder if they were compensating for something.

  At this rate the only thing I could do was stare up at them and hope they didn’t decide to eat me for lunch.

  The bark was thick and gnarled.

  No way could I scratch the surface, let alone tear off chunks.

  Not a chance in hell of building anything out of it. Not unless I spent days hacking at it with a giant sword and some magic.

  I tried to ignore the weird sounds in the distance.

  Hopefully they were just racoons or something harmless.

  But who knows? With my luck I was in the land of giant mutant mosquitos or rats the size of cars.

  I’d definitely take the racoons.

  It was at this point I’d started to wonder if I had made a huge mistake, not because I missed my old life (no, screw that), but because holy shit was this hard.

  Those survival documentaries always made it seem so easy.

  Just another corporate con I guess. Like those ‘paid training’ jobs that turn out to be unpaid internships.

  And I mean really. I’d had an eventful 72 hours.

  I’d been hit by a truck, met some freaky divine hiring manager who wanted me to work overtime for the rest of my life, and now I was surrounded by trees that looked like they were hitting the gym harder than me.

  My body ached, my stomach was trying to cannibalize the rest of me, and I could swear I could hear running water.

  My brain, the lying deceiving bastard that it was, kept whispering that there was a dripping faucet in the other room. Except there was no room. Just dirt. And me.

  It made me painfully aware that the last thing I’d drank was a cup of coffee in the middle of my last shift.

  All I wanted was a soft mattress. Hell, I’d even take the office floor at this point. Somewhere warm and safe.

  Well. I figured a shelter wouldn’t build itself. Time to start doing something.

  Okay…

  …Shelter.

  I stared up at the massive trees, their ancient limbs creaking in the wind.

  The bright sky could barely be seen through their leaves, casting long shadows over the forest floor. It was beautiful in that “wow, nature is amazing” kind of way.

  It was also terrifying in the “wow, nature is going to murder me” kind of way.

  I let out a slow breath, forcing myself to focus. Panic wouldn’t help. Planning would.

  Shit.

  Alright.

  Focus.

  Shelter.

  I needed a plan.

  First, a rope of some kind—good for tying things together. Then logs or sticks, I guess? Something to actually build the damn thing.

  Oh, and firewood.

  No way in hell was I freezing my ass off for a second night in a row.

  Alright, step one: rope.

  I could try weaving together some grass. That seemed doable. Maybe grab some extra for kindling while I was at it.

  I took a deep breath, turned toward the plains, and sighed.

  “Guess I’m a grass farmer now.”

  With no better option, I left the trees behind (goodbye beloved, and terrifying, giants) and trudged back to the open field. I yanked out a handful of grass and gave it a test pull.

  “Long, dry, sturdy. Yep. This’ll do.”

  I ripped out as much as I could carry and hauled it back to the edge of the forest, plopping myself down on a rock to start weaving.

  I had no idea what I was doing, but I was pretty sure I saw this on a survival show once. That episode had spent a lot of time on rope-making, so it seemed important.

  Late night marathons had failed me in a lot of ways, but at least I learned something.

  I grabbed a few strands of grass and twisted them together.

  Easy, right?

  Wrong.

  The first attempt fell apart in seconds – the strands slipped loose, unraveling into a sad little pile.

  The second was even worse, breaking apart the moment I tried to tug it tight.

  By the third, I was starting to wonder if “grass rope” was just a myth invented by survival show producers to make the rest of us feel inadequate.

  I gritted my teeth and tried again, this time twisting it as tight as possible.

  Slowly.

  Finally.

  It held.

  After way longer than expected I had a couple dozen sections of makeshift rope. I turned them over in my hands, testing the knots, giving them a little tug.

  It worked!

  Hell yeah! Rope acquired. +1 survival skills.

  Then my stomach reminded me that pride didn’t put food in my belly.

  I was halfway through my third bundle of grass when I noticed my hands were shaking.

  Weird.

  Maybe I was just tired?

  I kept working, but my head was starting to feel light.

  My stomach twisted, an uncomfortable gnawing feeling growing sharper by the second. I clenched my jaw and forced myself to keep going.

  Didn’t work.

  Oh.

  Oh no.

  This wasn’t just hunger. This was starvation.

  Enter what I dubbed: Extreme Hunger mode.

  My meat sticks were almost empty. I could barely move. My HP bar was about to start blinking red.

  I needed food.

  Now.

  I stashed my ropes next to a tree, marking the spot with a small pile of rocks so I could find my way back.

  Felt kinda like playing a survival game.

  The only thing missing was some blocky torches.

  Instead of lamenting the lack of square terrain, I dragged my starving body into the forest.

  Step two: find food.

  Fruits, mushrooms, bugs—anything that wouldn’t kill me immediately.

  The undergrowth was dense, the air was damp, and everything smelled… alive. It was like stepping into another world. Darker, quieter, full of unknown threats lurking just beyond sight.

  Time to buckle up and figure it out.

  I was on the hunt for food. That meant fruits, mushrooms, and (Goddess above) grubs.

  Mushrooms were by far the easiest to find. They were everywhere—sprouting from trees, fallen logs, even the dirt.

  I had no clue which ones were edible, so I did the only logical thing: I picked them all.

  Yep. Looking back, maybe not the smartest idea.

  Corporate bozo who’s never foraged in his life grabbing random mushrooms like they were free samples at the grocery store.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  While stuffing my shirt full of fungal question marks, I also kept an eye out for anything… well, meatier. And that’s when I found it.

  An ant colony.

  And not just regular ant-sized ants, either. Giant ants. Each one was the size of my damn hand.

  Now, here’s something you should know about me. I can handle a lot of things.

  But ants?

  Ants bug me. (Ha. Get it?)

  Still. I was desperate.

  I’d picked up a walking stick earlier, and now, it had a new job: ant stabber.

  I hesitated. Just for a second.

  The ant stared at me.

  I stared back.

  It twitched its antennae, like a middle manager sensing layoffs were coming.

  I speared it.

  Crunch.

  Goo.

  Twitching.

  I couldn’t help but gag.

  Smelled like burnt plastic and wet dog. Fantastic.

  Three more stabs, just to be sure.

  This was officially the worst meat-on-a-stick experience of my life.

  I forced an easy smile despite the creeping realization that I’d actually have to cook and eat it. But that was future me’s problem.

  With mushrooms, ants, and a full-blown existential crisis in my inventory, it was time to build a base.

  A) Starving.

  B) Fighting giant ants.

  C) Realizing you have no clue what mushrooms are edible.

  D) Trick question: It’s all hell.