The Veil of Danu

Lost but not Found (9)

The first day on the road was grueling. My feet were sore, my legs stiff, and my stomach growled, though there was little I could do about it. The day had stretched on far longer than I expected, and I was already feeling the toll of the journey. My boots, though sturdy, were beginning to rub painfully at the backs of my heels. Blisters were starting to form, and with every step, the friction made it worse.

I tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, but my thoughts kept returning to the unknown. How far would the next town be? Would I be able to find food or water before I collapsed from exhaustion? I couldn't afford to take breaks too often, not with so much ground to cover, but I knew eventually I would need to stop. I couldn't go on forever without provisions. Fortunately, I still had the bow and a small quiver of arrows, leftovers from the night before. They might come in handy if I found any game along the way.

The road was desolate. I passed no one, saw no signs of life—just trees and the endless stretch of dirt and stone. The quiet was suffocating, almost oppressive. There was no wind, and the only sound was the rhythm of my breath and the occasional rustle of branches swaying in the stillness. I didn't know if that was a blessing or a curse, but either way, I would have preferred a sign of life, any sign that I wasn't completely alone.

By the time the sun started its descent, casting long shadows across the path, I realized I hadn't found a single stream or well. The dry earth beneath my feet seemed to mock me. I had no choice but to push on until I could find something, anything. My throat burned with thirst, and my stomach was a hollow ache. But I couldn't afford to waste time. There was nothing but open wilderness for miles.

As the sun dipped lower, the air grew colder, and the weight of the night began to press down on me. It looked like I would go to bed hungry, and the thought didn't bring the comfort of resignation. I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep going like this.

The forest around me seemed to close in as the light faded, its dark trees shifting into something unfamiliar and sinister. I couldn't shake the memory of last night, the dread that had gripped me as I'd waited in the shadows, unsure of what was lurking out there. Wolves, soldiers—who knew what else had been drawn to the fire? The forest felt too vast, too full of things I couldn't control. The roads were bad enough, but at least there was the illusion of safety on the path.

I needed to find a place to rest, and soon.

I looked around, but the forest seemed inhospitable. There were no clearings, no shelter. The shadows were thickening, and the road ahead was barely visible in the fading light. There would be no way to make it to any town tonight—not unless I was willing to risk the woods.

After a moment of hesitation, I decided I couldn't risk wandering off the path. I might not be able to see the dangers that lurked in the trees, and the last thing I needed was to be caught off guard in the dark. Instead, I took refuge beneath a sturdy tree at the edge of the road, hoping it would provide some shelter from the wind and conceal me from any wandering eyes.

The ground beneath me was hard and uneven, but I had little choice. I unrolled my cloak, the only piece of warmth I had, and curled up beneath the tree, trying to make myself as small and unobtrusive as possible. My stomach twisted with hunger, but I knew there was no point in dwelling on it. I'd survive tonight, just as I had survived so much already.

The night was eerily silent, and the darkness felt heavier now, pressing against me from all sides. The road ahead seemed like a distant memory, swallowed up by the forest. No one would pass by here. The village had been too isolated, and this road led nowhere but to the next stretch of wilderness, far from any other settlement.

I tried to sleep, but the cold kept me awake, the hard ground digging into my back. Every snap of a twig or rustle in the underbrush made my heart race, the fear of being watched always there, lingering just beneath the surface. But as the hours passed and no one came, I finally let exhaustion claim me, my eyes closing in spite of the nagging unease in my gut.