Chapter Six: The Mountain That Should Not Be
Hunger.
It was all she could think about.
Pangs of hunger assaulted Little One's stomach, making her tremble uncontrollably. They had not eaten anything substantial in four days, and the gnawing emptiness inside her had become almost unbearable.
She felt as though she might lose her mind.
Then again, perhaps the incessant screeching inside her head had already driven her halfway there.
Little One pressed her remaining hand against her stomach and slowly rose to her feet.
Her body was weak, her limbs trembling from exhaustion, yet she felt a faint surge of energy flowing through her. It was not much, but it was enough to keep her standing.
She had to find food.
Anything edible would do.
At this rate, she felt she might actually devour her remaining arm if the hunger continued much longer.
She glanced at her companions.
Addo and Miral were still lying on the ground, too exhausted to move. The poisons lingering in their bodies had weakened them terribly, and their prolonged hunger only made matters worse.
They needed food.
And if she did not find something soon, they might not survive long enough to escape the forest.
Little One raised her head and looked at the stars one last time.
The night sky stretched endlessly above her, its scattered lights offering a strange sense of comfort. She took a deep breath, allowing the cool air to fill her lungs.
For a brief moment, the familiar pressure that had accompanied her for years seemed to settle around her.
Then she felt it again.
That peculiar surge of energy.
It spread throughout her body, bringing a fleeting sense of warmth and comfort.
Little One did not question it.
She had long since learned that there were things about herself she could neither understand nor explain.
Right now, she had more important things to worry about.
Food.
She turned toward the forest and began walking.
The trees stretched in every direction, their branches intertwining overhead. The deeper she went, the more difficult it became to distinguish one tree from another.
Nevertheless, she continued.
After walking for some time, she finally spotted something promising.
A tree bearing bright red fruits stood a short distance away.
Little One's eye lit up.
Food!
Without hesitation, she approached the tree and looked up at its branches.
It was enormous, its thick trunk rising several times higher than she could reach. The lowest branches were still far above her head.
Under ordinary circumstances, climbing such a tree with only one hand would have been difficult, perhaps impossible, for a child her age.
But Little One did not hesitate.
She grabbed the trunk, found a foothold, and began climbing.
Her movements were swift and surprisingly nimble. She moved from one branch to another with an ease that should have been impossible for someone in her condition.
Within moments, she had climbed high enough to reach the fruits.
She plucked one and examined it.
It was round and red, with smooth skin and a faint fragrance that drifted toward her nose.
She had no idea what kind of fruit it was.
Still, hunger won over caution.
Little One brought it to her lips and took a bite.
Sweetness exploded across her tongue.
The fruit was juicy, fragrant, and delicious beyond anything she could remember eating.
Her eye widened.
Before she could even finish chewing, she took another bite.
Then another.
Soon, she was devouring the fruit with an enthusiasm that would have embarrassed anyone watching her.
Juice ran down her fingers, but she paid it no attention.
One fruit was not enough.
She plucked another and ate it just as quickly.
Then another.
And another.
By the time she had eaten several more, the unbearable pangs in her stomach had finally begun to subside.
Little One leaned against the branch and sighed in satisfaction.
For the first time in days, she no longer felt as though her stomach were trying to devour itself.
She could almost cry from happiness.
After eating a few more, she finally forced herself to stop.
She still had two companions to feed.
Using her remaining hand, she tore a broad strip from the tattered clothing she wore. She carefully gathered as many fruits as she could carry, wrapping them in the cloth.
Only when she had collected a sizeable bundle did she begin climbing down.
She returned to the place where Addo and Miral were resting some time later.
The two were still lying on the ground, looking as though they barely had enough strength to open their eyes.
Little One approached them and placed the bundle beside their feet.
"Addo, Miral. I found some fruit. We can eat these."
Both children turned toward her.
For a moment, they simply stared at the red fruits.
Then their expressions changed.
Food.
Real food.
Without needing further encouragement, they struggled to sit up.
Addo reached for a fruit with trembling fingers, while Miral carefully picked up another.
Little One sat down beside them.
The three children began eating.
They ate greedily, almost desperately, as though someone might take the food away if they did not finish it quickly enough.
Juice dripped down Little One's chin and ran along the corners of her mouth. She licked her fingers without the slightest concern for appearances.
It had been far too long since she had eaten anything.
She wanted to savour every last bite.
For a while, none of them spoke.
There was only the sound of chewing and the occasional rustle of cloth as they reached for another fruit.
When the bundle was finally empty, Addo leaned back and wiped his hands against his tattered clothes.
"Thank you, Little One," he said quietly.
His voice was weak, but the gratitude in it was unmistakable.
Little One nodded.
She was glad she had found something they could eat.
At least, for now, they would not have to worry about starving.
Miral looked down at her empty hands before glancing toward the surrounding forest.
"What do we do now?"
Her question brought silence.
They had escaped the physician's lair, but that was all they had accomplished. They had no idea where they were, how far they were from civilization, or which direction would lead them out of the forest.
They were three children with weakened bodies, no supplies, and no one to guide them.
Little One looked at Addo.
He was the oldest among them, yet even he seemed uncertain.
After a moment, he drew a breath and spoke.
"We don't know how to get back, so I think we should choose a direction and keep moving. If we're lucky, we might encounter someone who can show us the way."
He paused, trying to sound more confident than he felt.
"We can't stay here forever."
Miral lowered her gaze, then nodded reluctantly.
Little One did the same.
They had no better choice.
"All right," Addo said, slowly pushing himself to his feet. "Let's get moving."
He swayed as he stood, and Little One instinctively reached out to steady him.
After a moment, he regained his balance.
Together, the three children began their journey through the forest.
---
Their journey was far from easy.
The poisons in their bodies had left them weak, and hunger had drained whatever strength remained. They could not travel for long without stopping to rest.
Sometimes, Addo would lean against a tree, struggling to catch his breath.
At other times, Miral would fall behind, her steps growing slower as the pain in her body returned.
Whenever that happened, Little One waited for them.
Although she was hardly in better condition than her companions, she seemed able to move more freely than either of them.
She could not explain why.
Her body was still thin, and her missing hand made even simple tasks difficult. Yet she could walk for longer stretches without collapsing, and the strange surges of energy occasionally left her feeling stronger than she had any right to be.
She did not think much of it.
After eight years of surviving things that should have killed her, she had grown accustomed to the inexplicable.
For now, she was simply grateful that she could keep moving.
They travelled in the direction they had chosen, stopping whenever their bodies could no longer endure the strain.
Fortunately, the forest provided some food.
They discovered several more fruit-bearing trees along the way. Whenever they found one, they took turns collecting the fruits and sharing them among themselves.
They also found a stream with clear water.
The three children drank eagerly, washing away some of the exhaustion and dryness that had plagued them.
Whenever they could find nothing else, they cautiously sampled leaves and other plants that appeared edible, though they avoided anything that seemed unfamiliar or suspicious.
Their progress was slow.
Their destination was uncertain.
And the forest remained full of dangers they could scarcely imagine.
Yet, despite everything, Little One found herself enjoying the journey.
It was a strange feeling.
For eight years, her world had consisted of four walls, a miserable bed, and the physician's cruel experiments.
Every day had brought pain.
Every night had brought memories of those who had died.
She had grown accustomed to the sight of lifeless bodies and the sound of children crying.
But now, she was walking beneath the open sky.
She could feel the wind against her face. She could hear birds calling from the trees. She could watch sunlight filtering through the leaves and casting shifting patterns across the ground.
And she was not alone.
Addo and Miral were beside her.
They were weak, frightened, and uncertain of what awaited them, but they were alive.
For the first time in years, Little One had companions with whom she could share something other than suffering.
They did not know where they were going.
They did not know whether they would find a town or encounter a monster.
They did not even know whether they would survive the next day.
Still, they continued walking together.
And for Little One, that was enough.
Those few days became some of the happiest she could remember.
---
Several days later, the forest began to change.
The trees gradually became less dense, and the ground beneath their feet sloped upward.
At first, Little One paid little attention to the change.
She was more concerned with finding their next meal and making sure her companions did not collapse from exhaustion.
Then they emerged from a stretch of thick woodland.
And saw it.
A mountain.
No.
Calling it a mountain hardly seemed sufficient.
It was enormous.
The colossal structure towered above the surrounding forest, its summit disappearing into the heavens. From where the children stood, they could not see its peak, no matter how hard they tried.
It seemed to stretch endlessly upward, as though it connected the earth to the sky.
Little One stopped walking.
Her remaining eye widened.
Something was wrong.
She could not explain what it was, but the moment she looked at the mountain, the familiar wailing inside her head grew louder.
The voices that had tormented her since the day she entered the cave suddenly surged with renewed intensity.
They screeched.
They howled.
They overlapped until it felt as though countless unseen beings were screaming directly into her mind.
Little One trembled.
She had endured those voices for years. Eventually, she had learned to ignore them, allowing their constant presence to fade into the background of her consciousness.
But now, they refused to be ignored.
The closer she looked at the mountain, the louder they became.
And beneath the screaming, she felt something else.
Pressure.
An immense, oppressive pressure that seemed to descend upon her from the heavens.
Her heart tightened.
Cold sweat gathered on her skin, and goosebumps spread across her body.
She instinctively took a step backward.
The mountain was terrifying.
Not because of its size alone, but because of the inexplicable feeling it stirred within her.
It was as though something was waiting there.
Something that had been waiting for a very, very long time.
Little One narrowed her eye and looked more carefully at the mountain's surface.
Then she saw it.
A face.
At first, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her.
But the longer she stared, the clearer the image became.
Two enormous eyes, tightly shut.
A nose beneath them.
And below that, a mouth.
The features were faintly outlined across the mountain's colossal surface, as though an invisible sculptor had carved a face into the stone.
Little One's breath caught in her throat.
How could something like that exist?
Who could possibly carve a face into a mountain of such unimaginable size?
The thought was absurd.
Even if someone possessed the strength to carve through solid rock, why would they create something so enormous?
She searched for an explanation.
Perhaps it was simply a natural formation.
Perhaps the shape only resembled a face.
Yes.
That had to be it.
She tried to convince herself that there was nothing unusual about the mountain.
But her body refused to believe it.
The pressure grew heavier.
The voices became more frantic.
And the strange face seemed to loom over her, silent and unmoving.
Little One felt as though she were standing before something that did not belong in the world she knew.
Something ancient.
Something she was never meant to encounter.
She desperately wanted to look away, but her eye remained fixed upon the mountain.
A dreadful certainty began to take shape inside her.
If she went there, something terrible would happen.
She did not know what.
She did not know why.
But she knew she could not go up that mountain.
---
"Whoa!"
Addo's exclamation broke the silence.
He stared at the colossal mountain with wide eyes, his earlier exhaustion momentarily forgotten.
"Have you ever seen anything so enormous?"
Miral shook her head.
"No. I didn't even know a mountain like this existed."
Addo looked toward the towering structure, his expression gradually brightening.
"Do you think there are people living up there?"
The possibility seemed to excite him.
Perhaps there was a settlement on the mountain. Perhaps cultivators lived there. Perhaps they would find someone willing to help them reach civilization.
After everything they had endured, the thought of meeting other people was enough to rekindle a little hope.
"We should go up," Addo suggested. "If we find people, we can ask them for help. They might even know the way out of this forest."
"No!"
The word burst from Little One's mouth before she could stop herself.
Addo and Miral flinched.
Both turned toward her, startled by the sudden force of her response.
Little One's heart was pounding.
She had spoken too loudly.
She had reacted too quickly.
She needed to explain herself before they began asking questions she could not answer.
"I-I don't think that's a good idea," she said, trying to steady her voice. "There might be dangerous beasts on the mountain. We should go around it instead."
Addo frowned.
"But if there are people up there, they might be able to help us."
"We can find people somewhere else."
"But—"
"Please."
The word escaped her more softly this time.
Little One looked down, struggling to control the trembling in her body.
She could not tell them what she had seen.
Could she?
She had no idea whether the face was real or whether the others could see it. Even if she described it, she doubted they would understand the terror she felt.
And she could not explain the voices.
Not the screeching in her head.
Not the overwhelming pressure.
Not the dreadful certainty that something terrible awaited her on that mountain.
She barely understood those things herself.
How could she explain them to someone else?
Addo studied her for a moment.
Then he noticed her trembling.
The girl was usually quiet, but she had endured so much that he had rarely seen her react with such obvious fear.
Whatever she felt, it was enough to make her desperately oppose his suggestion.
He exchanged a glance with Miral.
Miral nodded slightly.
"All right," Addo finally said. "We'll go around it."
Little One released a breath she had not realized she was holding.
"Thank you."
She turned away from the mountain as quickly as she could.
The instant she looked elsewhere, the pressure seemed to ease a little.
The screaming in her head did not disappear, but it gradually returned to the dull, familiar torment she had learned to endure.
She did not wait for her companions to reconsider.
"Let's keep moving," she said.
Addo and Miral followed.
Together, they began travelling along the mountain's base, searching for a path that would lead them around it.
Little One did not look back.
She kept her eye fixed on the ground ahead of her, her steps quickening whenever the mountain came into view between the trees.
She wanted to get away.
Far away.
She did not know what lay upon that mountain, nor why its presence affected her so deeply.
But she knew one thing.
She had spent eight years suffering in a place she had never wanted to enter.
She would not willingly walk into another nightmare.
Not now.
Not when she had finally escaped the last one.
And so, the three children continued their journey, leaving the colossal mountain behind them.
Addo and Miral soon returned to their conversation, discussing the possibility of finding a town or encountering travellers who might help them.
Little One said nothing.
She continued walking, trying to convince herself that she had made the right decision.
Yet the image of that enormous face remained burned into her memory.
And deep within her mind, beneath the endless screeching, something seemed to stir.
For a fleeting moment, she thought she heard a sound unlike the others.
A sound so faint that she could not be certain it was real.
Almost like a breath.
Then silence returned.
Little One's steps faltered.
She glanced back.
Through the distant trees, the colossal mountain remained visible, its summit lost among the clouds.
Its enormous face was no longer clear from this distance.
Its eyes remained shut.
Its mouth remained still.
Nothing appeared to have changed.
Little One quickly turned away and hurried after her companions.
She did not notice that, for the briefest instant, the strange pressure around her had intensified.
Nor did she know that the mountain she had chosen to avoid might be far more connected to her than she could ever imagine.
For some mysteries, turning away is not the same as escaping.