She had always sidered herself resilient, but these days that was beied more and more. The heat of the battle still burned in her veins, the adrenaline making her senses feel alive and sharp—yet, she knew deep down that her strength was beginning to falter. The weight of this strange world she found herself in—it was wearing her down, piece by piece.

  The creature's body y at her feet—a twisted heap of shredded meat. It resembled no animal she had ever seen. Its form reminded her of the monsters iories she was told before bed. Her makeshift on—a simple stiow cracked from the battle, was still gripped tightly in her hand. It wasn’t much. She longed for the fortable weight of her sword, but this had served its purpose well enough.

  She dropped the stick, its dull thud eg iillness, the aftershocks of battle still ringing in her ears. The creature had fought fiercely, but it made a fatal mistake in showing its face. It should have tio stalk her from the treeline.

  Well, anyhow—with it dead, she could cross one more problem off her ever-growing list. She felt the gnawing hunger in her gut and gnced down at the creature’s lifeless body. Could she eat it? The thought turned her stomach. She remembered the st meal she’d shared with her family—the warm bread, the fresh fruit. It felt like a distant, almost impossible memory. But then again, she’d lived this long by making hard choices. She could do this. She had to. Nothing would stop her now. Not hunger, not shame. Nothing would break her.

  She grabbed hold of the creature and began dragging it to somewhere safer. Its torn flesh left a dark smear across the ground, the st of blood thi the air. She wrinkled her kept moving—survival came first.

  ing upoher side of a massive tree—easily thirty feet in diameter—she paused to catch her breath. This would do. Leaning against its t trunk, here—she could decide what to do with the creature, without the malevolent sky pressing down on her.

  She set off to gather fire-making materials—sticks, loose branches, peared like moss. Her hands worked quickly, driven by the hunger eating at her gut. Dry wood was scarce, but she picked through the underbrush, searg for anything that could catch light easily.

  After colleg an impressive heap of twigs, moss, pnts, and the like, she carried them back to the tree. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. Kneeling beside the pile, she set her hand inches away from the base, and willed.

  Feeling the familiar essence surge through her arm, she focused her mind on fire itself, visualizing the chemical rea that would unfold. She thought about the oxygen in the air reag with the carbon in the wood, the heat breaking down the cellulose fibers to release votile gases. As she willed the spark ience, she could almost see the molecules of oxygen and carbon bining, f carbon dioxide and water vapor as the fire began to burn. The Essentia responded, accelerating the process, the fmes crag as the energy released from the bustion spread outward, warming the air around her.

  Pulling her hand back, feeling the slight mental fatigue that came with maniputing fual forces. A moment of dizziness made her sway slightly, but she quickly steadied herself. She turned her attention to the creature. With the fire done, now she actually had to cook the thing. She sed the area, eyes searg for a stone, something malleable.

  Her eyes nded on a good didate, an ordinary rock, solid and heavy. Pg a stick that she had picked up o it, she positioned both hands oems. She focused, willing the Essentia to flow through her and into the stid rock. Energy swirled around the rod stick, the raw force of her will shaping them. Slowly, the stick began to soften and curve, the rock sharpening into an edge. Within moments, the two were fused together—a crude, but effective stone knife.

  Searg through her sea of memories, she recalled fleeting moments of watg cooks cut opeures, their steady hands slig with precision as they prepared them for cooking, the ease with which they turned raw flesh into something edible. It was a simple act, or so she thought. She had hought about actually doing it herself.

  But now, standing over this creature, it felt different. She felt disected from that past self, the one who had never known hunger like this, never been faced with the o survive at any cost. She thought she had struggled before, but this was different.

  The huwisted inside her, a deep, ag emptihat pressed against her chest. She reached down, fingers steadied. The tightness in her chest, the tension in her limbs, they all faded as she tered herself. There was no room for hesitation.

  With slow, deliberate movements, she pressed the stone ko the creature’s flesh. The bde bit into the tough hide with a siing scrape, like grinding stone against bone. She twisted the khe fibers of skin partiantly, splitting open with a wet, fleshy tear. A stench of raw meat filled the air, sharp and pu.

  As she dug deeper, the knife slid into the soft, getinous mass of the creature’s ihe flesh gave away with a siing squelch. Warm blood gushed from the wound, slid slippery, coating her hands in sticky crimson. The entrails inside were a dark mess—stringy and slimy—unfurling in a grotesque tangle. She could feel the soft give ah the bde, the soft, squishy texture of them that made her stomach lur disgust.

  Every cut felt like it was against her very nature, but she didn’t hesitate. The k through veins and tissue with a siing squelch, the air thick with the sharp, metallic st of blood. The warm, viscous liquid spshed onto her hands and forearms, its texture thid uing.

  The minutes blurred by as she worked, cutting through sinew and muscle with impossible precision. Her hands were covered in blood, slid steady as she carved out a sizable pieeat.

  With a final pull, she tore the st strip of meat free and dragged it over the fire, the st of burning wood and charred flesh thi the air. The fire eagerly accepted the , lig at the piece of raw meat with huongues of heat. The sizzling sound filled the quiet space, mingling with the crag of the fire.

  She watched it for a momeranced by the slow transformation, the way the blood turned bd the flesh began to firm, a skin of burnt crust f over the raw ter. The fire was small but effit, crag with an almost predatory rhythm as the meat began to cook.

  Her fingers flexed in anticipation, ae the nature of her meal, a small part of her felt relief. She was surviving. She would live.

  The meat sizzled, the fat rendering and dripping into the fmes. It wasn’t what she’d imagined for her first meal in this strange pce, but it would have to do.

  After a while, the sizzling of the meat softened, and the smell of cooked flesh began to mih the smoky air. The fire had burned down to a steady glow, and the pieeat had bee even darker and crisp oside.

  With a swift movement, she grabbed the meat from the fire, careful not to burn herself. She bit into it, the rough texture and the taste of charred flesh filling her mouth. It wasn’t the best—she’d bme the meat itself, not her cooking, just to keep her pride somewhat intact. The tough fibers of the creature’s flesh were hard to chew, and the burnt parts had a bitter aftertaste, but hunger drove her onward.

  She forced herself to swallow, the texture of the meat stig to the roof of her mouth. Each bite felt like a struggle, but it was fuel—necessary fuel. She tore off another piece, grimag as she chewed. The bitterness still lingered, but it was drowned by the growing satisfa of filling the emptiness iomach.

  She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, staring at the half-eate in front of her. The fire crackled softly, the only sound iillness of the forest. She took a slow breath, letting the siletle around her as she gathered her thoughts. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

  Her mind briefly wao her steps. The creature’s remains would provide her sustenance for some time, but there were other things to sider—where should she go? The forest was both a sanctuary and a prison. Are there others? Where exactly is she? The questions hung in the air, unanswered and heavy.

  She gnced around, her gaze flig through the derees, searg for any signs of movement—wait, there. A shadow shifted in the er of her vision, just beyond the reach of the firelight. Her breath caught, she gripped the crude knife she had willed together, knuckles turning white.

  The shadow moved again, closer this time. A figure. She froze, heart rag, and her breath held deep within her chest. Friend or Foe?

  And then she saw it.