UNSURE (A JOURNEY OF THE UNKNOWN)

Lauren awoke with a start, Moa's voice ringing through her mind like an echo from a dream: Don't return until you've caught a deer. Her stomach growled, a painful reminder of her hunger. She pressed a hand to her belly, but nothing stilled the ache. The faint blush in the sky hinted at dawn's arrival, its soft light reaching between the trees. She rubbed her eyes, struggling to piece together where she was, why she felt like a thread pulled taut. Fragments of yesterday flickered through her mind, but the memories were jumbled, like scattered pages of a storybook.

It was hunger, she decided, shivering as she pushed the memories away. Just a bad dream. Hallucinations are common with hunger, she reminded herself, repeating the words like a mantra to force out the strange recollections.

Lauren rose to her feet, brushing leaves from her tattered clothes as she surveyed the forest. "Why do I even have to be here in the first place?" she muttered under her breath. "Nothing but disappointment since I got here." She swiped a hand through her tangled hair, her frustration spilling into her voice as she paced the forest floor. "I'm so tired of this. Tired of everything."

The first glimmers of sunlight began to warm the misty air, drawing whispers from the shadows. There was nothing to do but wait for the forest to wake up fully, so Lauren sat, her mind set on finding food. Her hunger was a sharp, demanding thing, gnawing at her resolve with every second.

When the light finally filled the forest, she sprang to her feet, her senses sharpened as though the sun itself had fueled her resolve. She scanned her surroundings, eyes trained for the slightest movement, ears attuned to the softest rustle. Her desperation pushed her deeper into the woods, yet every animal seemed to sense her hunger, keeping hidden in the undergrowth, silent and invisible. She scoured every path, but not a single creature dared to cross her line of sight.

Hours stretched on, leaving her weak and parched, her vision flickering with dizziness. Just as her legs began to feel like stone, she stumbled upon a river. Relief surged through her, and she dropped to her knees, bending low to drink greedily. The water was cold and crisp, washing away the dryness in her throat. She drank until she felt she could hold no more, lifting her head only when her thirst was finally sated.

Wiping her mouth, she caught sight of her reflection in the water's surface. She gasped, drawing closer. Her eyes—they seemed brighter, almost as if they were alight with some otherworldly glow. She leaned closer, mesmerized by the twinkling in her gaze, but the longer she stared, the more she felt something was wrong. She was being pulled into her reflection, as though the river's surface was a portal opening beneath her.

Before she could pull back, she slipped, tumbling into the cold, unforgiving water. Panic surged through her as memories she'd forced away threatened to resurface. She kicked her legs, her hands thrashing in desperation as she fought against the river's grasp, flailing until her hand found a branch jutting from the bank. She gripped it tightly, pulling herself out of the water, gasping as she rolled onto the ground, trembling from both the cold and the memory.

Staggering to her feet, she found a sheltered spot beneath the trees and set about gathering sticks for a fire. Her fingers moved on autopilot, her mind still reeling. She struck the flint, sending sparks onto the dry twigs until flames began to dance. Lauren hung her soaked clothes near the fire and sat close, letting its warmth seep into her bones.

What was that? she wondered, replaying the image of her glowing eyes. How could they shine like that? She pressed her hands to her temples as a headache spiked, like a warning to leave the memory buried. The pain cut through her reverie, bringing her back to the present, to the insistent ache of hunger gnawing at her.

Once her clothes dried, she redressed and turned her focus to the river once more. She needed food, and the river was teeming with possibilities. She grabbed a stick, lashing a stray bit of thread she'd found tangled in a branch to its end, fashioning a makeshift fishing rod then she dug up some worms and attached them to the sharp edge of the wood as bait . Kneeling by the water, she cast her line, her eyes fixed on the ripples with unwavering concentration.

The hours dragged as she waited, her patience tested by every unsuccessful attempt. But at last, a tug on the line sent a thrill through her, and she pulled up her first catch. One by one, fish filled her hands, until she had enough to satisfy her hunger. Returning to the fire, she skewered the fish on sticks, watching the flames lick their scales until the aroma of cooked flesh filled the air.

She ate slowly, savoring each bite, feeling strength return to her limbs with every swallow. Her mind cleared, and the dizziness subsided, replaced by a sense of calm. For a while, she sat by the fire in silence, grateful for the warmth, the fullness in her belly, and the peace she'd found.

Refreshed, Lauren rose, her resolve returning with renewed strength. She couldn't afford to linger here another night. She picked a trail and continued deeper into the forest, determination etched into every step. The path soon diverged into two. She paused, considering her options, before taking the left. Her mind was so fixed on her destination that she failed to notice the pit until she was falling.

She landed hard, breath knocked from her lungs. But fortunately, the pit wasn't deep, and she managed to pull herself out without much trouble. Standing at the edge, she felt a spark of inspiration. She gathered vines, tying them together to create a makeshift rope, anchoring one end to a sturdy tree near the pit. She was certain that any wandering animal might soon stumble into it, becoming an easy target.

The deeper she ventured, the darker the woods became, an eerie silence settling over her. She hesitated, feeling the weight of the forest pressing in around her, when a sudden, ear-splitting screech shattered the quiet. She froze, then turned, moving toward the sound with caution. Pushing through a thicket, she spotted two bucks locked in battle, their antlers crashing against one another, their muscles tense with fury. She crouched, transfixed by their strength, watching them spar with primal intensity.

Another shriek pierced the air, louder than the first, as one of the bucks staggered back, wounded. Blood trickled down its side, its opponent's antlers having found their mark. The victorious buck trotted off, leaving the injured one struggling to stand. Recognizing the opportunity, Lauren approached the fallen creature with quiet reverence. Its labored breaths rattled as she knelt beside it. With a silent nod of respect, she ended its suffering swiftly, a wave of both relief and sorrow washing over her.

She grabbed the deer by its antlers, and dragged it back through the forest toward the pit she'd dug. It was exhausting work, each step testing her endurance, but her mind remained fixed on her purpose. Reaching her makeshift snare, she rolled the deer into the pit, covering it with leaves and branches, hiding her prize from the eyes of scavengers.

By then, the sun was beginning to sink behind the trees, casting long shadows across the forest floor. Lauren gathered wood for another fire, her body aching with fatigue. As the flames crackled to life, she leaned against a fallen tree trunk, gazing up at the stars just beginning to speckle the twilight sky. Her thoughts drifted as she watched the canopy sway gently overhead.

The forest was alive with night sounds, a symphony of rustling leaves and distant calls. But for the first time, she felt something other than fear in the darkness; she felt a quiet strength, as though the forest itself was recognizing her resolve.

Lauren's thoughts circled back to her reflection in the river, the glow she'd seen in her eyes. It unsettled her, yet a part of her felt drawn to that strange gleam, as if it held a key to something she had yet to understand. She touched her temple, feeling the faint throb of the earlier headache, a reminder that some mysteries were better left undisturbed.

As she drifted to sleep, the last thing she felt was the warmth of the flames against her skin, and a newfound sense of purpose settling within her.