In Blackened Maws

ii // thief

Archer was shocked when he woke up. For multiple reasons, of course, but he was most surprised because he didn't ever remember falling asleep. He remembered watching the stars through the smoke of his little campfire, brown eyes glancing at anything that made any remote sound in the surrounding woods, but never any incentive to sleep. There was a monster out there, how could he sleep?

Regardless, he was awake now, thanks, in part, to the sunlight filtering through the trees behind him, casting the world in a soft orange-yellow. His fire was just cinder at this point, though, perhaps partially because of the sun's glow, some of the blackened logs still seemed to curl at the ends with a fiery orange.

The forest around him began to wake up as well. The birds were beginning their morning song, and while Archer wished he could relax at their melodies, the breeze offset it all, making the forest seem alive.

After finding his wakening senses as satisfied as he could make them with some stretches and yawns, he began reaching for his pack. However, where he should've found his familiar lump of life-saving goodness, he only found grass instead. His eyes widened, and he snapped his head to study the patch, only to immediately yelp and jump back.

There was that black sludge again.

So much for a nice morning.

Archer shot up, ignoring the faint dizziness that took his head as he did so, and stumbled back only to trip on the remains of his fireplace. He cried out at the sudden sting of heat on his leg, though managed to pull back quick enough to prevent his little burn to becoming another inferno.

As he stayed back, he surveyed his former perch with wild eyes, jumping from the inky liquid to the glint of metallic scattered throughout the grass behind it. That metallic made him stop, and after a few moments of nothing but the sounds of birds and wind, he again stood up, though far more slowly than before.

After giving it all a confused stare, he approached the mess with calculated steps. Stepping far more cautiously than before over his makeshift firepit and behind his tree perch, he softly stepped in front of what he could now make out to be a granola wrapper. He felt irritation boiling in his chest, and leaned down to pick it up, though recoiled once he felt the sludge.

The wrapper itself was relatively torn to shreds, with only one or two oat bits stuck to the packaging. The ridges, though, looked as if they were just dunked in black paint.

Its appearance mimicked the same as the remainder of what he'd packed, with chip bags and granola packages strewn about the forest floor, inky sludge trailing between them all.

Archer cursed under his breath as he picked some of the packages up, hoping that maybe the monster had spared him something. Unfortunately, he could only find some crumbs and the occasional half-eaten chip, and even those were still drenched in an inky black that he wasn't too keen on eating. Overall, his limited food supply was gone, all thanks to the mysterious being lurching in the woods around him.

Archer ran a hand through his dark brown hair, closed his eyes with an angry sigh, and kicked the dirt beneath him. Great. So much for survival. At least he still had the chance of getting home.

And with that, his eyes snapped open. Home. His map. Where was his pack?!

With a renewed sense of panic, Archer scrambled through the forest, looking behind trees and underneath bushes, even following the wrappers and the paths they made, though even those were far too sparse to lead anywhere.

When the sun was finally high enough to alight everything in its typical warmth, Archer was on the verge of tears. He settled back down next to his firepit, putting his head in his hands as he struggled against the hopelessness of his situation overtaking him.