“A bird trapped in a cage dreams of the sky, but the bird flying free must dodge every shadow that looks like a net.” — unknown Riven slowly opened his eyes.
For a moment, he couldn’t remember where he was.
The forest around him was quiet, and the morning sunlight filtered through the branches overhead.
Then the pain hit him.
He winced and instinctively reached for his shoulder, only to regret it immediately.
A sharp pain shot through his arm, forcing him to pull his hand away.
The monster.
He remembered the fight from the previous night.
The beast had attacked him while he was sleeping, and its horn had pierced straight through his shoulder.
He had barely managed to kill it.
Riven glanced at the makeshift bandage wrapped around his shoulder.
The cloth was stained with dried blood, and the wound throbbed beneath it.
He carefully tried moving his arm.
Pain immediately shot through his shoulder.
“Damn it…” He stopped before making things worse.
He wasn’t sure how serious the injury was, but he knew it wasn’t something he could simply ignore.
He had no medicine, no proper bandages, and no one to help him.
For now, all he could do was keep the wound covered and hope it didn’t get worse.
Riven slowly sat up, using his good arm to support himself against the tree.
His entire body ached from the previous night’s fight, and he felt even weaker than he had the day before.
He looked around at his belongings.
His stolen sword was lying beside him, along with the monster’s horn and the piece of hide he had managed to remove.
He checked his pockets to make sure the monster core was still there.
Everything was accounted for.
He was glad he hadn’t lost anything during the fight.
The core and horn might be worth something in town, assuming he could find someone willing to buy them.
First, though, he needed to get there.
Riven pushed himself to his feet.
His injured shoulder made balancing difficult, and he had to lean against the tree for a moment before he could stand properly.
He looked at the remains of the monster.
He had considered taking some of its meat the previous night, but without a way to cook it, he had decided against it.
Now he regretted throwing away his lighter even more.
His stomach growled.
He ignored it and picked up his sword.
He needed to find a town before he ran out of strength.
The trail wound deeper into the dense pine and oak woods.
The cart tracks slowly became clearer as the soil softened near a shallow ravine.
Riven followed them carefully, keeping his sword close.
Every snap of a twig made him tighten his grip on the weapon.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the monster that had attacked him during the night.
If something like that could sneak up on him while he was sleeping, there was no telling what else might be living in the forest.
His injured shoulder made him even more nervous.
He wasn’t sure he could fight another monster in his current condition.
Still, he continued along the trail.
The morning sun climbed higher, and the oppressive silence of the deep woods gradually gave way to the faint sounds of civilization.
At first, Riven thought he was imagining it.
Then he heard it again.
A low, rolling rumble carried on the wind.
He stopped and listened.
Wooden wheels.
And something else.
The muffled neighing of animals.
Riven’s eyes widened.
A wagon.
He hurried toward the sound, though his injured shoulder forced him to slow down.
He pushed through the undergrowth until he reached the edge of the tree line.
Then he saw it.
A wide dirt road stretched through the forest, deeply rutted by the passage of heavy wagons.
Several carts traveled along it, their drivers guiding horses down the road.
Riven crouched behind a thick cluster of ferns and watched.
He hadn’t seen so many people in one place since arriving at the slave camp.
A short distance down the road stood a wooden checkpoint.
A sturdy fence stretched across the roadside, with a small gate allowing wagons to pass through.
A merchant guild crest was painted on a wooden sign above it.
Two armed men stood beside the gate.
They weren’t wearing the uniforms of the slave camp guards.
Instead, they wore hardened leather armor and carried swords at their hips.
One leaned against a fence post while the other spoke to a wagon driver.
Riven watched them carefully.
Beyond the checkpoint, he could see the outskirts of a town.
Stone buildings stood close together, with gray smoke rising from several chimneys.
The distant sounds of people talking and merchants calling out to customers drifted through the air.
A town.
He had finally found one.
For a moment, Riven simply stared.
He had spent the last few days walking through the forest, sleeping beneath trees, and fighting for his life.
Now, after everything, he was finally looking at a place where he might be able to find food, shelter, and help.
But his relief quickly faded.
He looked down at himself.
His clothes were ragged and stained with dirt, ash, and dried blood.
One sleeve had been torn during the fight, and the makeshift bandage around his shoulder was clearly visible.
The stolen sword hanging from his waist was far too large for his small frame.
He looked like a runaway slave.
And he had no idea how the people at the checkpoint would react if they realized it.
Riven glanced at the two armed men.
He needed to be careful.
He had survived the camp.
He had survived the forest.
But he couldn’t afford to get captured again.
Riven lowered his head and studied the road.
There were several wagons passing through the checkpoint, and the guards seemed more interested in inspecting their cargo than watching the surrounding forest.
Perhaps he could slip through unnoticed.
But he couldn’t simply walk up to the gate looking like this.
He needed to figure out what to do with his sword, hide his injury if possible, and come up with a convincing explanation for why a young child was alone in the forest.
Riven swallowed nervously.
He was finally close to civilization.
Now he just had to make it through the checkpoint.