10 Days Passed
Ten days had passed, and I'd fallen into a small, monotonous routine: wake up, boil water, check the traps, then head to a nearby tree to strip a chunk of bark for twine. After that, I'd fetch another bucket of water, soak my bandage, and boil it to sterilize. Once it was dry enough, I'd rewrap it and start the cycle again. Meat had been my primary food source whenever I caught something in the traps, but lately, it seemed as though the animals were avoiding my house—or at least the traps.
Around midday, while working on another length of twine, it hit me: even with my broken arm, I needed to explore. There could be something valuable in the area that I hadn't discovered yet. Staying put wouldn't help me prepare for the Wendigo. I felt a growing urgency to get out, to see more of the world beyond my tiny, cold shelter. Maybe there was something I could use, or maybe there was just more to understand about the land I was stranded in. Either way, I couldn't afford to stay idle for too long.
Before heading out, I decided to craft a makeshift coat from the wolf pelts I'd gathered. Using the twine I'd made over the past two days, I spent about three hours stitching them together. Without the sharpness of the wolf's teeth to pierce the pelts, it might've been impossible. Since my injury, the cold seemed to cut deeper, so the coat was a welcome improvement. The warmth of the pelts wrapped around me like a much-needed shield against the constant chill.
Surprisingly, the wolf coat fit decently well, despite the uneven stitching. After gathering my essentials, I set out to explore. My plan was simple: walk an hour in one direction, mark my path, then return home before heading out in another direction. I needed to get a sense of my surroundings, to map the land in my mind, even if I was too injured to move quickly.
As I trudged through the forest—climbing hills, descending slopes, and sidestepping patches of slush—I spotted something in the distance. I climbed a small hill for a better view and realized it was a mountain. Partially hidden by swirling snow, the peak revealed itself as the wind swept the snow aside. But there was more—what I thought was a single mountain turned out to be a range stretching northeast. I stood for a moment, taking in the view. It was a sight to behold, the snow-capped peaks barely visible through the howling wind. It filled me with both awe and a strange sense of isolation, as if this land was untouched by time.
I carved arrows into tree trunks with my knife to mark my way back home, ensuring I wouldn't lose my bearings. Along the way, I glimpsed signs of life: a family of deer grazing in the distance, squirrels darting through the trees, and a few rabbits. Above me, birds soared, far beyond my reach, their forms tiny against the vast sky.
The wind picked up, stinging my face and making progress harder. I decided to find temporary shelter to wait it out. Then, I saw it—off in the distance—the ruins of a structure. Whether it had once been a church or a guard tower, I couldn't tell, but it seemed worth investigating. The snow was picking up, swirling faster around me, and I knew I needed to get out of the elements.
I approached cautiously, gripping my spear tightly in my good hand. As I got closer, something flickered in my peripheral vision. I spun around quickly—nothing. Then, to my right, I saw movement again. I turned once more—still nothing. My eyes darted left, right, and forward—each time catching fleeting glimpses of motion just out of reach. It felt as if something was watching me, stalking me. My heart rate picked up, but I tried to remain calm. I forced myself to breathe deeply. Probably just an animal. Or maybe I'm just tired. I tried to ignore it and steeled my nerves as I continued toward the ruins. My mind was racing, and with each step, the eerie feeling grew, making every sound seem amplified in the stillness of the storm.
I found a spot sheltered from the wind and sat, waiting for the storm to die down. But it didn't. The wind seemed to carry a strange weight, like it was pushing me, urging me to leave. But I didn't. I couldn't.
Then, it hit me. Why was I no longer freezing? I remembered how bitterly cold it had been when I first arrived, but now I felt… warm. Why don't I feel cold? My breath, which should have been visible in the icy air, was no longer condensing in front of me. The warmth was unsettling, out of place in this frozen wilderness. It didn't feel natural.
The wind picked up even more, howling through the trees. I watched the snow and pine needles dance on the ground, swirling in the air like they were alive. I leaned back, resting against the wall, and turned to my left. And that's when I saw her.
A woman with blood-red hair, swirling in the wind, stood there in a green cloak. Beneath it, iron armor gleamed. Her presence was striking, almost otherworldly, as if she didn't belong in this place at all. I hesitated before saying, "Hello there." But when I blinked, she was gone, just like that. Vanished into the storm as if she had never been there at all.
I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. Maybe it was the isolation or the madness of the cold creeping into my mind, but I couldn't ignore the feeling that I wasn't alone. Maybe it was time to head back. I'd get some sleep once the wind died down a bit, though it seemed like it would never stop. The forest, the ruins, the mysterious woman—everything felt... off.