“Every beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” — Seneca The cool night air hit Riven as he stepped through the gate.
For a moment, he simply stood there, staring into the darkness beyond the camp.
He had spent so long imagining what it would be like to escape that he almost couldn’t believe it was finally happening.
He was free.
Behind him, the storage hall continued to burn.
The flames illuminated the surrounding buildings, and the distant shouts of the guards carried through the night.
He knew it wouldn’t be long before they realized someone was missing.
Riven tightened his grip on the stolen sword and began walking.
He didn’t dare look back again.
As he entered the forest, the trees grew thicker, blocking out much of the light from the burning camp.
The ground was uneven, covered in roots and fallen branches.
He had to watch where he stepped to avoid tripping.
He continued walking, putting as much distance between himself and the camp as possible.
Yet the farther he went, the more uneasy he became.
He had imagined escaping countless times.
He had thought about what he would do once he was free, where he would go, and how he would survive.
But now that he was actually outside, he realized just how little he had planned.
He had no food, no water, and no idea where the nearest town was.
All he had was a stolen sword, a spear tip, and the clothes on his back.
He was also only five years old.
Riven glanced down at his small hands.
They were still rough and scarred from working in the mines.
His body was thin, and his legs were already beginning to ache.
He had barely recovered from his injuries before attempting to escape.
Now, after everything that had happened that night, he was exhausted.
He stopped beside a large tree and leaned against its trunk.
His thoughts drifted back to the old man.
Riven clenched his fists.
He had saved his life.
But he was dead instead.
Riven lowered his head.
He didn’t know whether he would ever be able to repay that debt.
For a while, he stood there in silence, listening to the sounds of the forest.
The distant chirping of insects and the occasional rustling of leaves were the only things he could hear.
Then his stomach growled.
He hadn’t eaten anything since earlier that day.
The thought of food made him painfully aware of how hungry he was.
Water was an even bigger concern.
His throat was dry, and he had no idea how far he would have to travel before finding a stream or river.
He needed to find a town.
Somewhere he could get food, water, and perhaps a place to rest.
But first, he had to survive the night.
Riven pushed himself away from the tree and continued walking.
He didn’t know how long he wandered through the forest.
The darkness made it difficult to judge the time, and his tired legs were getting heavier with every step.
Eventually, he found a large tree with thick roots that rose out of the ground.
The space between them offered a little shelter from the wind.
It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.
Riven sat down against the trunk and placed the sword beside him.
He kept one hand resting on its hilt, unwilling to let it out of reach.
He tried to stay awake.
He knew sleeping in an unfamiliar forest was dangerous.
There could be monsters nearby, and he had no idea what kinds of animals lived in these woods.
But his body had other plans.
His eyelids grew heavy, and his head slowly began to droop.
He fought against the exhaustion for a few minutes before finally giving in.
Before long, he had fallen asleep.
When Riven opened his eyes again, sunlight was filtering through the trees.
For a moment, he didn’t remember where he was.
He sat up quickly, reaching for the sword beside him.
Then he remembered.
The camp.
The fire.
The old man.
He was outside.
Riven let out a slow breath and looked around.
The forest seemed much less frightening in the daylight, though that didn’t mean it was safe.
He had survived his first night.
Unfortunately, he was also incredibly thirsty.
His throat felt dry, and his stomach ached with hunger.
He needed to find water before he could think about anything else.
Riven stood up, picked up his sword, and looked around.
He had no idea which direction he should go.
He couldn’t see the camp anymore, and the trees all looked the same.
He needed some way to find his bearings.
After a moment, he began walking downhill.
He remembered that streams often flowed through lower areas, and if he was lucky, he might find one nearby.
The ground gradually sloped downward.
He stepped over fallen branches and pushed through patches of thick undergrowth, occasionally stopping to listen.
After walking for some time, he heard something.
A faint trickling sound.
Riven stopped and listened carefully.
There it was again.
Water.
He hurried toward the sound, pushing through a cluster of bushes until he finally reached a small stream.
The water flowed over smooth stones, reflecting the sunlight that passed through the trees.
Riven immediately knelt beside it.
He cupped his hands and drank.
The water was cold, and he drank several handfuls before finally pulling away.
He sat back on his heels, breathing heavily.
He hadn’t realized just how thirsty he had been.
After a moment, he leaned forward and drank again, taking his time this time.
Once he had finished, he sat beside the stream and looked at the water.
He still needed food, but finding a town was his biggest priority.
He couldn’t survive in the forest forever, especially in his current condition.
Riven stood and followed the stream for a short distance, hoping it might lead him somewhere useful.
He knew that streams sometimes passed near settlements, but he had no way of knowing whether this one did.
Eventually, he stopped and examined the ground.
There were marks in the dirt near the water’s edge.
At first, he thought they were animal tracks, but after looking more closely, he noticed that some of them were too regular.
Footprints.
He crouched down to inspect them.
They were larger than his own, and some appeared to have been made by boots.
There were also several marks that looked like they might have come from a cart.
Riven followed them with his eyes.
They led away from the stream and into the forest.
A path, perhaps?
He wasn’t sure, but it was the first sign of people he had found since leaving the camp.
He stood up and followed the tracks cautiously.
As he walked, he kept his sword close and paid attention to his surroundings.
He didn’t know who had made the tracks or how recently they had passed through.
Still, it was better than wandering aimlessly.
After walking for what felt like hours, he heard a rustling sound nearby.
Riven stopped immediately.
Something was moving in the bushes to his left.
He slowly turned his head.
A pair of glowing eyes stared back at him from between the leaves.
His grip tightened around the sword.
For several seconds, neither of them moved.
Then the creature shifted, revealing a glimpse of its body.
It was low to the ground, with dark fur and long claws.
Riven’s heart began to pound.
He had no idea what it was, but he knew he couldn’t afford to fight it.
He was exhausted, hungry, and barely knew how to use the sword he was carrying.
He slowly backed away.
The creature watched him for a moment before disappearing into the undergrowth.
Riven waited until he could no longer hear it before continuing along the trail.
His hands were trembling.
He had escaped the camp, but the forest was clearly no safer.
He adjusted the sword at his waist and continued walking.
Somewhere beyond these trees, there had to be a town.
And he intended to find it.