Morning mist clung tightly to the river's surface, hiding the strong current beneath it. The air felt cold against the skin, sharp like a breath slipping through stone cracks. The riverbank looked soft, filled with indistinct tracks, yet large enough to press the soil deeply.
Dio stood a few steps from the water.
He steadied his breath, not wanting to make unnecessary sound.
Second day…
Or perhaps the third.
He tried counting again, tracing his memory of the previous nights. Two cycles of darkness turning to light. At least according to his body.
"Still twenty-one or twenty-two days left," he thought.
A long time if he survived.
A short time if he faltered.
He shifted his gaze toward the forest. No birdsong. No insects that usually appeared in damp mornings like this. Even the wind refused to slip through the branches. A silence too full.
The forest felt watchful.
---
He crouched slightly, examining the soil at the river's edge.
The same tracks he saw last night were here as well—
a large, half-circle scrape, like something with a broad foot dragging mud.
Claw-like, but too long, irregular, and heavy.
"Not a normal animal," he thought. "And I keep seeing more of them."
He brushed his fingertip lightly over the soil, checking its texture. Wet, but not soft enough to sink. The track wasn't fresh, but not old either.
Maybe made a few hours ago.
Or last night.
The river's current moved slowly.
But the longer Dio stared, the more he felt the flow kept shifting—
as if faint ripples beneath the surface didn't follow normal water patterns.
Dio decided not to stare too long.
Too many things seemed to move when he focused on a single point for too long.
He glanced back.
The cloaked figure still lay between the two large rocks, body merging with the shadows. Their breathing remained, but too faint to hear from more than a few steps away.
Dio tightened his grip on the leather pouch.
He knew he had to return quickly.
Water was an urgent need.
But before moving, he checked the surroundings once again.
Silence.
Not natural silence.
A heavy silence, like someone taking a long breath and holding it, waiting for something to happen.
Dio filled the water pouch quickly. He lowered his body, keeping his weight steady so the ground wouldn't crack too loudly under his steps. Once the pouch was full, he stood and sealed it tightly.
When he turned to return to the figure…
The hair on his neck rose.
A tree on the left side of the river shifted slightly.
Just barely—like a shadow moved by something tall behind the leaves.
Dio did not turn.
Not immediately.
He only listened.
The ground didn't tremble.
No heavy breathing.
No large footsteps.
But something was there.
Perhaps the same thing from last night.
Perhaps only an old tree.
He slowly followed his previous path, forcing himself not to speed up.
Every quick movement would make noise.
Every loud sound would be an invitation to something he did not want to meet.
---
He approached the figure with the shield half-raised.
He did not know if the one lying there was truly human.
He did not know if the wounds were from an animal… or something else.
When he knelt, the ground felt cold. Dew clung to his knees. The figure stirred slightly, like someone trying to wake but lacking the strength to rise.
"Water…" they whispered.
A word lighter than wind.
Dio opened the water pouch and lifted the person's head gently, careful not to break anything. He tilted the pouch slightly, letting a few drops reach their cracked lips.
Their throat moved.
Struggling.
Like stone trying to swallow water.
After several sips, their body felt slightly warmer. Not much—just enough to stop the bluish tint on their skin.
Dio looked at the wound on their cloak.
A long, uneven tear along the side of their abdomen.
More like something scraped them than cut them.
A claw?
A sharp branch?
Or something from the river?
He took a short breath.
No fresh blood.
Meaning the wound was over a day old.
If so… how did they end up this far from the river?
If they fled… from what?
Dio felt a small urge to lift the cloak further, checking for more injuries. But he held himself back. He didn't know if touching them would worsen their condition.
"If they regain consciousness…" he thought, "…they might speak. Or give direction."
He shifted his gaze toward the forest.
The rows of trees looked tighter than the morning before. Large roots crossed one another, forming patterns he hadn't seen previously. As if the forest was changing from within, slowly.
He felt something else too.
The air was heavier.
Not dangerous… but pressing.
Like a quiet warning from something without a voice.
Suddenly, a heavy sound echoed from deep within the forest.
Dio froze.
Not a roar.
Not footsteps.
A muted thud, compressed, like the ground struck by something massive.
A sound he recognized.
He turned slowly.
Between the tree gaps—far away—
a large shadow moved.
Its shape unclear.
Its true size uncertain.
But he knew:
The creature was the same.
The same one from the previous night.
The one evaluating his existence.
Dio tightened his grip on the shield.
He would not fight.
He would not win anything.
He could only survive.
The figure beneath the root trembled weakly.
If he wanted to save this person, he had to move them before that shadow came closer.
And the forest…
took another deep breath,
as if waiting to see where his next step would lead.