Yang woke curled up on the floor of the small cave, surrounded by dirt and small bones. His eyes were swollen from crying, and his body still trembled slightly from the events of the previous night, from watching Grandpa Chen die.
He had woken but curled himself tighter into a ball, feeling the twisting hunger pains in his stomach. For a moment, he wanted to stay curled in that ball until he starved to death, because right now that seemed easier than living a life with the pain of Grandpa's loss.
The child in him felt like the world had ended with Grandpa. But his adult mind pushed back.
He remembered everything since birth. He remembered how Grandpa had taken care of him.
Grandpa may have taken him in because of pity initially, but he had loved Yang more than life itself. Since the day Yang was born, Grandpa had stood between him and everything harmful: weather, hunger, and other villagers' taunts about his lack of parentage.
He realized as he lay there on the small cave's floor that he had never felt sadness in this life until last night. Grandpa had loved him so much that losing that love felt like losing one of his senses. The absence was physical and tangible, a hollow ache in his chest that made breathing difficult.
Grandpa loved me so much. He'd be sad to see me like this, Yang thought as he gathered himself and sat up, wiping away tears that had begun falling again.
He would make something of himself. He would live and make Grandpa proud.
Yang didn't know how far into the forest he'd run. Grandpa and he had never gone deep into the forest. They ventured in less deeply than other villagers because Yang was too young and Grandpa too old. They'd mostly gone in to gather root vegetables and to pick berries and wild fruits. They'd never had meat because neither of them could hunt on their own or contribute to a hunting team, and neither had anything to pay or trade with anyone who would hunt.
Their village was near a forest and far away from any large city or town. The closest town or city he knew of was a few weeks' journey away, and he only knew that because a couple of merchant caravans passed through once a year.
Anyway, he couldn't return to the village. He would be killed by the same people who killed Grandpa.
The village only had poor people living in huts, and as the villagers used to say, only Grandpa was stupid enough to take in a young burden like him.
Grandpa had been so old that no one ever expected him to survive long enough to enjoy the fruits of raising Yang. No one believed he could live long enough to be taken care of by Yang in his old age, as he was already too old by the time he took Yang in.
Not even Grandpa himself had expected it. Grandpa had been surviving solely by will, determined to see Yang reach adulthood so he could take care of himself.
But those monsters had taken even that from him.
Yang knew he'd been a city boy in his previous life and had no experience surviving in a wilderness in either life. But he had some knowledge provided by Grandpa that might help. Grandpa had lived his entire life in that village and used to go to the forest to hunt or trap animals when he was younger. Some of those lessons and stories might be useful now.
He had shelter for now, but he needed access to water and food if he were to survive. He'd already exhausted all his strength last night, so he had to find food and water soon, hopefully before nightfall. He could see light entering through the cave's entrance, so he crawled out to have a look.
It appeared to be afternoon. A few hours before the sun would set again.
Yang decided to look for water first, since that was a much greater priority than food. A person could survive weeks without food, but only days without water. That was something he remembered from... somewhere. His previous life, perhaps, though the specific memory was hazy.
He was in the dense part of the forest, and it was difficult for him to walk because this was not an area where humans came regularly.
He was constantly hit and scratched by thin branches and large bushes as he needed to push through them. His already torn clothes caught on thorns, and new scratches joined the ones from last night.
He had a good memory, which was one advantage his reincarnation had given him, so he made sure to memorize the location of the cave so he could return before nightfall. As he walked, his mind was divided between memorizing the way he'd come, constantly looking for dangers, and searching for food he could eat or a water source.
As he pushed through a particularly thick bush, a thought struck him. Even if he found water, he had nothing to keep it in. If he intended to survive in the forest for the foreseeable future, he needed far more than just knowledge of where water was located. He needed containers, tools, and some way to preserve resources.
But those were problems for later. Right now, he needed to find water.
He suddenly heard the croak of a frog and decided to follow the direction of the sound. As he moved closer, he heard more sounds of life, other frogs, insects buzzing, and the subtle sounds that indicated water nearby.
He found a small spring sprouting from the ground, clear water bubbling up between rocks and forming a tiny pool before trickling away between the trees.
After seeing the water, Yang fell to his knees near the edge and desperately cupped his hands to drink. The water was cold and clear, and he drank until his stomach felt uncomfortably full. He also washed his face and arms after drinking his fill, hissing as the water stung the scratches covering his body.
He sat near the water and considered his situation more carefully. The spring was close enough that he could come here from the cave to drink water daily. But he needed to find a larger source of water eventually. This spring was tiny; it might dry up, or animals might foul it. He needed more options.
Yang stood and started walking in a different direction, looking for something to eat. He found a bush with berries, but didn't recognize them and wasn't desperate enough to risk poisoning himself yet. Water was essential for survival, but a human could survive a few weeks without food. It would be excruciating, but it was possible. Eating the wrong thing, though, could kill him in hours or days.
He looked around for a while longer but couldn't identify anything edible that he was certain about. The forest offered plenty of plant life, but without Grandpa to point out what was safe, Yang couldn't risk it.
He decided to head back to the creek and then the cave, as he was cutting it close to nightfall. He drank at the spring again, filling his stomach with as much water as he could hold, then headed back to the cave the same way he'd come.
As he walked, he started picking up any dry twigs he found. At least this was a task he could manage. Grandpa had shown him how to identify dry wood that would burn well versus green wood that would only smoke. The lesson had seemed pointless at the time; they'd had so little fuel for their fire that they'd burned whatever they could find, but now Yang was grateful for every scrap of knowledge Grandpa had shared.
He reached the cave just as night was falling, with only a little light remaining. The moon had already risen, providing some illumination. By the time he arrived, he had a considerable bundle of twigs, and his arms were aching and full.
He couldn't take them all into the cave at once, so it took him several trips to carry everything inside. He couldn't leave them outside in case it rained or the morning dew wet them. Wet wood wouldn't burn, and fire might be the difference between life and death out here.
Yang got inside his cave and lay on his back after settling the dry twigs against one wall. He wanted to try lighting a fire, but he was too tired, his childish body not used to such work. His muscles ached in ways he'd never experienced before. Even during the hardest days with Grandpa, he'd never pushed himself like this.
Now that he wasn't doing anything, the grief hit again. But he didn't let it consume him. Instead, he thought of the happy memories with Grandpa, the way Grandpa would hum while working, the warmth of Grandpa's hand holding his, the patient way Grandpa had answered his endless questions.
I'm alive because of you, Yang thought as sleep pulled him under. I'll keep living. I promise.
He fell asleep with tears drying on his cheeks, exhausted but alive.