Mother nature is the greatest teacher.

  I left my camp in the early morning determined to find a water source—the thirst was getting to me—but I quickly encountered difficulties. The first difficulty was the dense foliage further inland. There were no pre established paths through the rainforest for me to follow. My path forward was my own to cut.

  The other major difficulty, this one more damming, was my fear of the unknown. Every time I heard a rustle or saw the flight of a bird I felt the need to stop and to make sure nothing was near. I was in a constant state of alertness. Paranoia. It made me tire faster, and eventually I was forced to take a break in a small clearing near a thicker trunked palm tree.

  I wiped the sweat from my brow and sat down below the tree for shade, then summoned my system page.

  [Designation: Hiro Johnson 0000127460118]

  [Level: 0]

  [Class: unchosen]

  [Active spells: 1. Unchosen 2. Unchosen 3.Unchosen]

  [Passive spells: 1. Unchosen 2. Unchosen 3.Unchosen]

  [System Arts: 0]

  [Body: 1]

  [Mana: 0]

  [Spirit: 0]

  The system page looked the same as it did the night before. The day prior I’d likened it to a video game status sheet. It met all the criteria. There were levels and spells and stats, but unlike a game, there were no rules, only the mission log. And according to the mission log, I was in the tutorial, a proving ground for something more. All I needed to do was to live long enough to see that something more.

  As I considered the page further something roared in the distance. The roar sounded like the shrieking mix of a stuttering turkey gobble and a lion, or maybe a tiger. I wasn't an expert in pre-integration animals.

  Startled, I closed my system page—it was possible with single thought— and raised Widower.

  My eyes scanned the canopy, searching for the roar maker. I saw nothing besides the flora—bright green leaves and colorful flowers that I’d overlooked the beauty of during my walk. The animal that had made my heart beat so fast was nowhere to be seen.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  I waited, listening and watching until both became tiresome tasks. Nothing was coming. The roar had come from far away. I’d worried myself over nothing.

  “It's getting to me. Crazy already in less than twenty-four hours,” I giggled to myself before plopping down on the earth, exhausted.

  There was something about the humidity in the air that made me feel sluggish. I planned to leave after another short rest. The previous rest was moot because I'd gotten all worked up over the roar.

  I leaned my back against the tree, and against my will, I was lulled to sleep.

  *************************

  I awoke under the cover of night to the sound of crashing in the forest. Fear seized me instantly, and I reached for Widower, but my hand couldn’t make it. My entire body was immobilized; something had bound my lower half, including my hand, to the ground. Though I couldn’t see what held me down, I could feel it—thick and coarse, like rope.

  “H-Hello,” I choked out. My throat burned as I said the word—I had no saliva.

  The burning sensation wasn’t exclusive to my throat. My whole body was burning up. It was like I had a fever, but the sickness was everywhere. Something was wrong with my nervous system.

  I gathered my courage and started to thrash against the bindings. The more I moved the worse it got for me; the bindings tightened around my abdomen and throat restraining my lungs. It was as if I were caught in a Chinese finger trap.

  As I gasped for air, my hand brushed up against the pommel of my sword. My crazed effort hadn’t been for naught. I’d loosened the bonds around my hand just enough to reach Widower.

  I slid the blade closer to me while struggling to breathe, and used it to cut the bindings on my arm. Widower was so sharp that just a touch from its edge could cut the bonds of whatever was holding me. I was freed in the matter of minutes.

  “Who is there? Why did you tie me up?” I cried out into the darkness. Blindness and fear turned me into an armadillo. I was balled up on the ground with my sword pointed outward in case someone wanted to throw themselves on it—a cowardly action far from the stories that cling to my name, but I was not yet that man.

  When no answer came, I was forced to buck up. I was in the jungle at night. Anything could come for me, and I doubted following the path back to the beach would be smart.

  I dragged myself from my curled up position to a standing one, and tossed the rope bindings under my arm—they were closer to strong vines than actually rope.

  There were trees around me. I could climb, and sleep in a tree. My thinking was the person who’d tied me up wouldn’t be able to get me there.

  I staggered forward in the dark, my only source of light the reflection of the moon on my sword.

  Somehow I made it to the treeline without falling. I chose a tall tree, a different tree, than the palm trees around. It had a sturdier base and looked easier to climb.

  I sheathed my blade and placed it in my mouth, and bit down hard on the sheathe to keep it there. It left my hands free to climb.

  The climb was rewarding but difficult. After minutes of excruciating effort I found myself with my legs tied to a large branch with my back leaned up against the trunk of the tree—My years in boy scouts weren’t wasted. I was safe.

  ****************************

  I cried that night in the tree.

  Reflecting, I feel ashamed, but lucky that my first lesson on survival wasn’t fatal. I survived my first night in the jungle.