Yang felt a surge of triumph as he pulled his net from the river, fish thrashing in the woven plant fibers. It had been many days since he'd moved to the new cave near the river, and this was the third time he'd succeeded in catching fish. The accomplishment still felt fresh and satisfying.
Spear fishing hadn't been as easy as he'd thought. Standing in the cold water, trying to stab at the quick, silvery shapes darting past had resulted in nothing but frustration and wasted time. He couldn't catch the slippery creatures with his bare hands either. They were too fast and unpredictable for him.
So he'd made a net using plant fibers, painstakingly twisting and knotting them together. It had taken several failed attempts before he managed to create something functional, and even then he'd had to experiment with different ways of casting it to actually catch anything. But eventually he'd figured it out, and now fish were a regular part of his diet alongside the foraged plants and trapped animals.
Yang dislodged the fish from the net and added them to a basket he'd woven from thin branches. Six fish today. A good catch. He carried the basket to a relatively flat rock by the river's edge and began the familiar process of preparing them.
Scaling came first, scraping away the small protective plates with his stone knife. Then he cut open their bellies and removed the guts, tossing the innards back into the river where they'd be eaten by other creatures. After so many times performing this task, his movements had become efficient and practiced. Finally, he cut each fish butterfly style, opening them flat so they had a larger surface area and would dry more quickly.
He gave them a final wash in the cold river water, then carried the basket back to his cave.
Inside, he'd strung up something like a clothesline using braided plant fiber cord. Fish from previous days already hung there, slowly drying in the cave's air. Yang added today's catch to the line, spacing them carefully so air could circulate around each one. He was drying fish as a precaution for winter, storing up food. He'd seen villagers perform this task before and was fairly certain it would work, though he couldn't guarantee the taste would be pleasant.
Yang went about the rest of his daily tasks with a sense of contentment he hadn't felt in months. His days had been much better since moving to the new cave. He went to bed with a full belly now, something that had been rare at his old shelter. This area was more abundant with animals, and he was catching something in almost all his traps. He ate his fill and dried the rest, utilizing every part. Bones, fur, sinew. Nothing went to waste.
The cave hadn't been smelling the most pleasant lately. Apart from the fish, there was also meat from different animals drying on racks he'd constructed. Animal pelts hung from the walls, slowly curing. The combined smell was thick and pungent. But despite the odor, Yang had been the cleanest he'd been since entering the forest. The river allowed him to bathe easily, and he'd almost learned to ignore the shock of the cool water against his skin.
He'd also managed to improve his bow significantly. Now he practiced his marksmanship daily with targets he'd made from bundled dry grass. His accuracy had improved considerably. He'd tried a couple of times to shoot birds sitting on branches, hoping to bring one down, but so far he hadn't succeeded. He believed that was because of their small size. If it were a larger ground animal, he felt confident he could hit it. He knew his bow and arrows were well made. When he shot at trees, the arrows pierced the bark and stuck firmly, unlike his initial attempts where they'd simply bounced off the surface.
Yang took his bow and a handful of arrows and left the cave. Since he'd gotten the hang of fishing, his mornings were free earlier than they used to be. Food wasn't the desperate concern it had been. He wanted to try his hand at hunting. He'd rather learn on his own terms than be forced to try and fail when suddenly confronted with a dangerous beast.
It was inevitable that he would face dangerous animals while living in the forest. He'd been lucky so far that his inner instinct had protected and warned him. Maybe without it, he would have been dead that first night.
Since moving to the new cave, Yang had found himself with much more time to think, which had become uncomfortable. So far he'd been living day to day, survival his only aim, gathering enough food to make it through each twenty-four hours. But here, with life easier, he had spare time for thoughts he'd been too busy to consider before.
He was surviving. But he felt stuck.
Would he spend his whole second life living in the forest like a wild man? What would such isolation do to him? Yang realized it had been more than half a year since he'd even spoken aloud. He was scared he would become something inhuman, something that could never fit back into society ever again.
He didn't know where to go from here. His life had been about survival since Grandpa died, but now that he was surviving, what was living?
This was nothing like he'd ever imagined his life would be. Nothing like Grandpa would have hoped for. Often after finishing his daily tasks, Yang found himself sitting in front of the fire, staring at the dancing flames, lost in thought. But if someone asked what he was thinking, he wouldn't have a single coherent answer. He just got lost watching the fire move, the flares each one different, the shifting shades of orange and yellow and red.
Yang wondered if he would go crazy living here alone in the forest.
He walked quietly through the trees, lost in his musings, bow in one hand and spear in the other. Suddenly he felt a tug, a gentle pull toward his left. His inner instinct guiding him.
Yang had become in tune enough with the presence that he immediately slowed his breathing and lightened his steps. The instinct was pointing him toward something, and he believed it would be an animal. They'd become more familiar with each other's intentions over the months. The presence had learned to point toward things Yang was seeking, and Yang had learned to understand what it meant.
He moved sneakily toward where he believed the animal was, getting as close as he could while staying hidden behind trees and bushes. Finally, he spotted it.
An animal he'd never seen before. It stood almost up to his waist, which considering he was in a child's body meant it was relatively small. It had long legs, light brown fur, horns on its head, and a long tail that curled on the ground. Its body was shaped a bit like a goat. It was digging and eating roots near the base of a tree.
Yang was surprised. He hadn't seen anything like this in the village. Hunters often brought in a wide variety of animals from the forest, and children would rush to see the dead beasts. Yang was among those children, he had always found it fascinating to look at animals he'd never encountered before. But the hunters had never brought anything like this creature.
Yang quietly took out an arrow and notched it on the string. He aimed at the creature's belly, the largest target area. He wasn't sure he could succeed if he tried for the neck. He drew back the string and let the arrow fly.
It hit. The goat-like creature let out a weird growl-like cry and stumbled. Yang quickly notched another arrow, moved closer, and this time aimed for the neck. Since the creature was already down and he was much nearer, the arrow hit its mark. Blood began pouring from the wound.
Yang drew his stone knife from his waist and approached to quickly slit the animal's throat so it would die without suffering. He was just reaching forward when suddenly, at its last strength, the goat raised its head and tossed a fist-sized ball of fire directly at Yang's head.
His inner instinct screamed. Yang lunged to the side instantly, his body moving before his mind could process what was happening. The fireball missed him by inches and slammed into a tree behind him, leaving a smoking hole the size of the projectile burned completely through the trunk.
Yang scrambled backward and dove behind a large rock. He pressed his back against the stone, his heart hammering so hard he thought it might burst from his chest.
What just happened?
Was it a hallucination? His whole understanding of the world had changed in a single moment. He was pretty sure there had been no animals capable of this in his previous world. And he'd never seen any animal capable of such things here either. He'd seen many animals living so close to the forest edge, but never had he witnessed any of them with the power to throw fireballs.
He'd heard stories in the village about immortals and magical beasts, but he'd thought they were all folk tales. After all, their village was small and unconnected. It was only natural for such people to be superstitious. But this was making him question everything.
Yang was also starting to believe this world was fundamentally different from his past world. Not just behind it in time and technology, but different at a fundamental level. Because no normal animal could throw fireballs with their mouths.
He was still in shock, his thoughts racing in chaotic circles. He peeked from behind the rock to see if the goat was dead. He didn't know how long he'd been having his breakdown. Yang took another arrow and shot it at the beast to make sure it was truly dead. The animal didn't move or make any sound.
Cautiously, Yang approached. This time he made sure to come from behind its back, giving it no angle to attack him even if it was somehow still alive.
He reached the creature and quickly knelt, using his stone knife to slit the goat's throat completely. Blood poured out, confirming it was dead. Yang felt relief wash through him. If he'd had his axe with him, he would have beheaded the goat entirely to ensure it was completely dead. He wasn't taking chances with a fireball spitting goat.
Yang grabbed the goat's carcass by the hind legs and started dragging it toward the river. He was calling it a goat for lack of a better word. He wanted to butcher it by the water because he didn't want a mess in his cave. Any animals he caught in his traps were always prepared near the riverside.
It took considerable effort, but he finally reached the river and dropped the legs as he arrived at the edge. Yang used his knife to first remove the fur. This was the largest animal he'd caught so far, and the thick fur would be immensely helpful in winter.
He didn't feel any danger at the thought of eating the goat's meat, so he started butchering. The inner instinct would have warned him if the flesh was poisonous or dangerous. He had to return to his cave once to get a basket and his axe because the knife wasn't strong enough to cut through the bones.
It was almost sunset by the time he'd completely butchered the animal. Yang was examining the skull, trying to find out what had caused a mammal to throw a fireball. This defied everything he thought he knew about the natural world.
He removed the brain, tongue, and everything else from the skull cavity. Suddenly, behind the forehead bone, he found something. A small crystal or gemstone. It glowed faintly with an inner light.
Yang's instincts suddenly flared and sent a thought and he dropped the stone in shock, his fingers releasing it as if it had burned him.
The crystal landed on the rock with a small clink, still glowing softly in the fading daylight. Yang stared at it, his mind racing.
What was this? Was this what had allowed the goat to produce fire?
Yang sat frozen by the river's edge, staring at the small crystal that had fallen from his fingers. The sun painted the sky in shades of orange and red, colors that reminded him too much of the fireball that had nearly killed him.
Eat it.
The instinct was telling him to actually eat the stone. He knew that's what it meant, and could feel the intention as clearly as if someone had spoken the words aloud. But he was just shocked at the vehemence behind the command.
The urgency.
The inner instinct had never told him to eat something before. It guided him toward what he wanted, warned him against what was dangerous, but it had never actively pushed him to consume anything.
This was completely new territory.
Yang kept getting shocks today. First the fireball throwing goat, now this.
Normally the instinct just guided and warned, passive in its protection. But this was the first time it had actually pushed him toward doing a task he had no interest in, wasn't even aware he should be doing.
He didn't think the instinct was trying to put him in danger. He knew that much with absolute certainty. If it wanted to harm him, it had already had countless opportunities over the past six months. On the contrary, the only reason he'd survived so far was because of the instinct's warnings. It had saved his life more times than he could count.
Yang picked up the stone carefully, examining it in the fading light. It was small, about the size of his fingernail, with a faint glow that seemed to pulse from within. He made a decision to eat it once he'd looked at it properly, after studying it a bit more.
Maybe he could figure out what it was first.
The instincts made themselves more urgent.
Eat it.
Now.
Eat it.
Eat it.
Eat it Now.
NOW
Yang was surprised again by the intensity, but he trusted the instinct with everything. It had never led him astray. He stood up from the rock, the crystal clutched in his palm, and began walking back to his cave. The butchered goat lay forgotten on the riverside, walking back to safety of the cave was the best he could bear with the instincts constantly blaring inside him. Anything else he could deal with later.
But right now, his instincts were urging him to hurry and he didn't have it in him to ignore them.
He entered the cave and sat down on his bedding, looking at the stone in his hand. The instinct urged him continuously, more urgently with each passing second. The pressure was almost physical, like someone pushing at his back, trying to force him forward.
Yang decided to stop hesitating. He took the stone and placed it in his mouth. It felt smooth against his tongue, and slightly warm.
He swallowed it.
And instantly regretted it.
As soon as the crystal passed down his throat, Yang felt like he'd drunk boiling water. Liquid fire slid down his esophagus, melting his insides as it descended. He fell from his sitting position and curled up on the cave floor, his body convulsing in agony like he'd never felt before.
Not even when the mirror had shattered him in his previous life. Not even during those desperate first weeks in the forest. Nothing compared to this.
His throat was already seared, the tissues burned, and he couldn't even make a sound. His vocal cords wouldn't work. All he could do was curl tighter and tighter, trying to contain the pain that was consuming him from the inside out.
The liquid heat was spreading throughout his whole body now. Yang could feel it branching out from his stomach like rivers of molten metal flowing through his veins. It reached his arms, his legs, his fingers and toes. Every cell felt like it was being set on fire and being destroyed.
The heat was almost spilling out of all his orifices. His eyes watered uncontrollably. His nose ran. Blood trickled from his ears. But the worst was the feeling in his core, where the crystal had dissolved into pure burning energy that was tearing him apart from within.
Yang's vision went white, then black, then white again. He couldn't think. Couldn't process anything beyond the overwhelming agony consuming every part of his being. His small body shook violently on the cave floor, limbs jerking without his control.
Thankfully, it looked like the end was near. Yang could feel his consciousness slipping away, his mind unable to sustain awareness under such torture. As he lost his grip on the waking world, he had no thoughts left but one desperate plea.
Please, whatever entity exists, let me die, let me die. Let this agony end.
The darkness rushed up to meet him, and Yang welcomed it like an old friend. Anything was better than this burning hell his body had become.
His eyes closed. His breathing became shallow and erratic. The small cave was silent except for the occasional whimper that escaped his damaged throat.