Demon Hunters

Conclusions, Part III

Crawling on his knees, Jonah didn't make for a particularly dignified silhouette. That said, the man had never been particularly keen on his appearance and wasn't one to get fussy over getting his hands dirty – especially as he was currently foraging for food. He spotted a familiar-looking plant bearing berries and crawled over. He first examined the berry and then the shape of the plant itself, and after he had become convinced that it was safe to eat, he picked a few of the berries and stuffed them in his mouth. As the sweet taste spread in Jonah's mouth, he nodded approvingly. While small berries didn't exactly make for much of a meal, they were certainly a welcome addition. He wiped his mouth clean and refocused on his primary mission – finding mushrooms. Seeing as he was more or less stuck behind enemy lines, Jonah had decided that avoiding the locals would be a good idea, and as such, foraging had proven to be the most reliable way for him to feed himself.

Not that I would mind a slice of bread... Oh, and a cup of wine, too... Now that would be heavenly!

Jonah shook his head. Fantasizing was all well and good, but if it made him hungry, it was a problem. He scanned the forest around him. Thus far he had not come across any edible mushrooms, but he was certain that they couldn't be too far off. He got back to his feet, brushed the mud off his knees, and continued traipsing through the forest. Though he had to admit that he very much missed the trappings of civilizations, Jonah wasn't all that heartbroken about having to comb through forests for food. After all, this was something he had had to do a lot back when he had been starting out and when money had been tight.

"Still, back then I was in a much better shape... I don't think my back can take much more of this," he huffed out loud.

Just like foraging, talking to himself had become a habit of Jonah's. Not that he had lost his mind – he had merely grown used to it after his short stint with Jean. He often thought about what had happened to the boy after they had parted, but rarely dwelled on the matter. After all, the world was engulfed in a war, and that meant that the powers that be would certainly be looking to draft people for their armies. Jonah wanted to believe that Jean had managed to dodge this fate, especially after his rather harrowing experience with war, but there was telling if it was even possible for him to avoid being drafted again.

"Now, if I was a mushroom, where would I be? Somewhere dark and damp, that's where."

Naturally, Jonah wasn't expecting a response, so he was quite startled when he heard a groan. He stopped in his tracks and looked around. He couldn't see anybody, but he soon heard the sound again.

"Is there someone there?" he asked, his hand wrapping itself around the hilt of his sword.

There was no response, but after around ten or so seconds of silence, there was yet another groan. This time Jonah was prepared, so he could pinpoint the direction from which these sounds hailed. He drew his sword and started walking toward the source of the disturbance. It didn't take him long to find what he had been looking for: a man was laying on his side behind a fallen tree, the ground around his mouth slick with vomit. A cursory glance of the area – the unfortunate man's camp – revealed the likely culprit, as he noticed a particularly poisonous type of fungus was growing right next to the man.

"Oh, you didn't eat that, did you?" he huffed, leaping over the fallen tree.

The man laying on the ground appeared to be flipping in and out of consciousness, and Jonah wasn't convinced that the man was even aware of his presence. He took a closer look at the mushrooms growing nearby. It looked as if one of them had been plucked from among the others, which confirmed Jonah's fears. This particular type of mushroom was terrifyingly poisonous, and it wasn't certain if the man would survive. After considering the matter for a moment, Jonah shrugged his shoulders. He might as well try to help the victim – and if it came down to it, give him a decent burial. He moved back next to the man and noticed that this poisoning wasn't the only bit of unluck that had befallen him. Not only were the clothes he wore quite tattered, but the man's left hand must have been badly mangled in the past, as most of the fingers were missing. Moreover, a wooden crutch was leaned against a nearby tree, suggesting that the damage wasn't limited to just his arms.