You see, there’s something I forgot to tell you guys, and Rhys.
Okay, maybe it was intentional.
Every time Rhys kicks the bucket, he sort of, respawns somewhere.
Where he respawns isn’t random though; he respawns on the closest spot where nobody is looking.
It also happens in an instant at first, but can slowly take longer and longer, depending on how many times Rhys has died in a while.
I’m going to tell you right now, this power is going to come in handy.
Now, back to Rhys.
He was currently travelling on foot across the meadows and into foreign territory.
His cackle was still going on, but at least it was a lot fainter.
Now he knows what death feels like.
The coldness, the emptiness, and the shock of waking back up.
He knows all of it now.
Rhys: I hate it here.
I want to die.
I hate it here.
I want to die.
Those words replayed millions of times in his head as he kept cackling.
One of the weirdest trauma responses I’ve ever seen from a being.
He felt completely broken on the inside, viewing his existence onward as nothing but torture and suffering.
Begging for himself to be released into paradise.
The walk ahead was treacherous, with shooting pains going through his feet and into his torso by hour 2.
The scenery hadn’t changed yet.
Still rolling hills, still scattered trees, still mountains in the distance.
By hour 4, his legs were numb.
Almost as if he were floating through the air.
By now, another forest seemed to make its way into his eyesight.
Being the only change in a while, it was a pleasant surprise.
Hour 6 was around the time when he finally made it over to the second forest.
This time, the air felt a lot less dense compared to the last one.
There were a shit ton more critters this time around.
Rhys: wowwwwww…
He couldn’t really give a shit less what the forest felt like at the moment, so he just strolled right in without a care in the world.
It seemed this one didn’t have any human intervention, so no more direct paths to follow.
That obviously didn’t help with the navigation.
Rhys: ow… This chapter is updated first at g.com.
He felt some pain in his legs for the first time in a while.
With him looking down to see that some prickles were stabbing themselves into him.
He didn’t have the energy to deal with them, so off he went with them in tow.
The cackling was still lingering on for dear life, almost like a little pest that didn’t go away.
At least someone muffled it to where nobody could hear it.
Some wolf observed this freak of nature and all this holy wandering around with prickles in its legs.
They all looked at each other before shaking their heads and running away.
The same thing could be said about the deer, who were standing right next to them.
He continued on his journey, stumbling his way through the dense trees and bushes ahead.
That when he all the sudden tripped on what seemed to be a small rock.
Rhys: [*ACK!]
*Splash!
He face-plants right into a tiny puddle.
With mud getting all over his face and into his fur.
This time around, he didn’t struggle to get out.
With him lifting his head out and shaking off the excess mud and water before looking at his reflection once more.
His rainbow eyes were now fully black.
With his scar missing from his forehead as well.
Everything felt off with him.
His whimsical personality, replaced with cold, dead shells of eyes.
The wrinkles and eye bags showed how much he had changed in the course of a night.
As the sun shone through the trees ahead, he couldn’t help but cry.
He cried his eyes out as he reminisced on all the happy memories that were stripped away in an instant.
Wishing that he could’ve stopped that monster and kept everyone he knew alive.
He wished he could see Dylan again.
Anything to see Dylan again.
He stood up and walked back to the rock that had tripped him up.
It was a medium-sized rock that was stuck in the ground, from what he could see.
He managed his way back onto all fours, lining his head up onto the rock, and prepared himself for something desperate.
*BASH!
One strike down, his forehead bled.
*BASH!
Strike two, this one leaving a splotch of blood behind.
Strike three; his head was dizzy, which for him was a good sign.
Only a few more blows to go until he can be done with this world.
*BASH!
*BASH!
*BASH!
Getting closer and closer to the verge of death, he smiles once more, believing whole-heartedly that he didn’t actually die the first time around.
If only a few more hits could come sooner rather than later.
???: [Arrff!!]
That sound shifted what seemed to be the entire forest.
Rhys snapped himself out of his craze and looked left and right to figure out what’s going on.
???: [Arrff…!]
It was coming from a couple of metres ahead of where he was.
This time sounding a lot more faint and dire.
That’s enough to finally get him off his feet; finally remove the prickles.
He had a soft spot for most animals anyway, so this was inevitable.
He ran pretty fast through some bushes and sticks, all the way to where the little thing was.
It seemed to have been in some bushes, so Rhys pulled them apart to get a better look at the thing.
Rhys: Oh shit…
The thing looked like a wolf cub.
Its white fur and skinny frame made it shine in the sun.
That wasn’t the only thing, though.
Its leg was bleeding and probably broken.
Rhys’s fundamental theory was that it got injured, and its mother just let it out of the bushes to die so they could eat its corpse.
Rhys: [You okay there, little guy…?]
He picks the wolf cub up and checks its underside to see if he was right or not.
Rhys: [Well damn, you’re a girl aren’t ya…!]
He was absolutely wrong.
Rhys: [Alright, you’re coming with me… it’s you and me against the world from now on…]
He descends deeper into the forest with the wolf cub in tow.
Trying his best to forget about that entire ordeal a couple of hours ago.
Rhys: [I probably need a name for you… but I don’t really know what.
I guess i’ll just call you Wolf for now…]
But who knows if he’ll ever truly forget.
Who knows if he wants to.
Who knows if I want him to.