By the time Blackbriar finally slowed, we were deep in the forest, the last slivers of sunlight strangled by the canopy overhead, leaving the world cloaked in shadow. Darkness pressed in from every side, thick and absolute, and all I could think through the chill settling on my skin and the ache in my spine was how bloody stupid it was to flee right before nightfall. Then I remembered: right, poison and murder attempts.

  I slid off Blackbriar, knees jolting as my boots hit the ground harder than planned. Arms wrapped tight around my middle, I stepped into the clearing, each crunch of leaves and snapped branch loud enough to give away my position to the entire forest. Birds called in the distance, something howled far enough away to pretend it wasn’t real, and my own breathing dragged sharply through my throat.

  “Gods, I hate nature,” I muttered, eyes straining against the dark shapes of trees.

  Blackbriar snorted. Probably an agreement.

  Light was fading fast. I crouched, fingers fumbling through the brush for anything dry enough to burn. I’d watched survival shows. Once. Kind of. Designing forests was different from surviving in one. What was I thinking—no flint, no pack, just a dagger and bad choices?

  Still, I stacked the driest sticks I could find, set two larger ones across the top, and started rubbing. My wrists burned. Sweat slid down my face. The wood slipped more than it caught.

  “This is pointless,” I muttered. “I don’t even know how this is supposed to—”

  A spark.

  Another.

  Then fire.

  Small, weak, but real. Orange light spread across the clearing like it had been waiting for permission.

  “…Huh,” I breathed. “It worked.”

  Blackbriar snorted again, like she’d expected nothing less.

  I crouched beside the fire, palms stretched toward the flames. The heat licked at my fingers but didn’t do much more than take the edge off the cold buried in my arms and spine. Smoke bit into my eyes, but I didn’t move.

  My stomach growled loud enough to make Blackbriar flick her ears.

  Right. Fire didn't fill the belly.

  I stood and scanned the dark blur of trees, brush, and damp earth. My boots squelched slightly as I crossed to a cluster of mushrooms blooming at the base of a nearby trunk. Fat, red, with white-spotted caps.

  “Analysis,” I muttered.

  The screen blinked.

  [REDSPORE MUSHROOM]

  Highly toxic. Effects: hallucinations, excessive sweating, paralysis. Fatal in high doses.

  So, poison disguised as dinner. Good to know.

  I brushed past ferns, squinting at their narrow, tooth-edged leaves. Nothing looked promising, but I whispered the trigger again and watched the text flicker into view.

  [VEINLEAF]

  Inedible. Can be used for bandaging. Mild numbing if chewed.

  [TWILIGHT BURROWROOT]

  Technically edible. Must be boiled. Raw use may cause stomach pain and cramps.

  I muttered something unrepeatable under my breath and kept walking.

  There. Near a fallen branch, half-hidden under the brambles, small, dark berries clustered on a thorny vine.

  “Analysis.”

  [DUSK BERRIES]

  Edible in moderation. Offers hydration. Risk: stomach cramps with excessive consumption.

  Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

  Finally.

  I reached out and plucked one. The skin split between my fingers, staining them deep violet. I popped it into my mouth, bit down, and instantly regretted it. The flavour was sharp and sour, like someone had fermented vinegar and called it fruit. Still, I swallowed.

  Could be worse.

  I grabbed a few more. Shoved them in without chewing, eyes squeezed shut as they scraped down my throat.

  Sour berries beat an empty gut. At least for tonight.

  Something rustled in the trees.

  Blackbriar let out a low, warning whinny.

  I froze.

  Crunch.

  Leaves stirred, low and deliberate.

  I turned toward the sound, muscles tight, breath caught halfway to my lungs. Half-shadowed beneath a crooked bush just ahead, a small grey shape moved.

  Rabbit?

  “Analysis,” I breathed, barely above a whisper.

  The screen blinked into place.

  [FOREST HOPPER – MONSTER TIER I]

  Small, fast-moving predator. Powerful hind-leg kicks. Unpredictable pathing. Generally non-aggressive.

  “I wonder if it’s edible?” I muttered.

  Blackbriar stamped, her front hoof sending a cloud of dirt into the air.

  The rabbit blinked.

  Then vanished.

  A blur shot toward me—grey fur, claws, teeth. Straight for my throat.

  I dropped hard, my shoulder smacking into the dirt. Rolled through damp leaves and came up gasping, dagger in hand.

  It twisted mid-air and landed with barely a sound. No pause. No warning. It launched again.

  I slashed.

  Too slow.

  The rabbit jerked mid-flight, kicked off a rock, and came for my head a second time. I ducked. Spun. Slashed low.

  The blade skimmed its fur—barely.

  “Stop moving, you hyperactive little shit,” I growled, pivoting to keep it in sight. It moved like smoke through grass—impossible to track.

  It darted back, then sprinted forward again, ears flattened.

  Fine.

  If it wanted to play, I'd play.

  I squared my stance. Locked eyes with the blur coming straight for me.

  Don’t flinch.

  My heart pounded. Every muscle screamed to move. I ignored it. Dug my boots into the ground. Waited.

  Closer. Faster. I could see the glint in its eyes.

  Now.

  I dropped into a crouch and thrust upward.

  The dagger met flesh.

  A sharp crunch followed by a horrible, high-pitched screech.

  Then—gone.

  Not just dead. Gone. No blood. No body. Just a neat slab of pink meat on the ground where the thing had been.

  I stared as I wiped my blade clean against the edge of my cloak and reached down.

  “Analysis.”

  [MONSTER MEAT – FOREST HOPPER]

  Edible. Requires cooking. Quality: Moderate.

  I held it up, stared at it for a beat too long.

  “Right. Kill a rabbit, get instant steak. Guess this place believes in loot drops. Sure. Why not?”

  A rustle behind me made my stomach clench. I turned slowly, eyes narrowing.

  Not one. Eight.

  Eight twitchy-eared bastards, spaced out between the trees like they thought they owned the place.

  I held the still-warm slab of meat in my hand and muttered, “Oh, you brought friends.”

  The first lunged. No hesitation.

  I barely twisted aside before it snapped past my leg. Another took its chance, its claws slicing across my calf. Sharp. Fast. The sting hit hard, blood trailing hot down my skin. Pain Resistance dulled it, but not enough.

  A third rabbit launched at my head. I stepped into it with boot lifted. Slammed my heel into its side mid-air. The crunch sent it flying, where it hit a tree with a hollow thud—gone in a blink, replaced by another chunk of meat.

  No time to celebrate.

  Another came from above—claws out, teeth flashing.

  I ducked. Muscle memory took over. The dagger shot up.

  Steel met flesh.

  Something warm sprayed my cheek.

  Gone.

  Then I felt it—sharp, scraping pressure on my back.

  Another had climbed me. Teeth sank near my shoulder as claws raked my spine.

  I dropped. Hit the ground hard, crushing it under me. It shrieked. I rolled, ripped it free, and drove my blade through its gut. It flickered out with a jolt.

  I didn’t look for the drop.

  I shoved up to my feet—lungs dragging for air, every heartbeat thudding like a war drum in my chest.

  Two more.

  They came together.

  I sidestepped. Grabbed one by the scruff. Its body twisted, claws scrabbling. The other latched onto my side, teeth punching through fabric and flesh.

  I squeezed.

  The one in my grip made a ragged sound before vanishing.

  I yanked the second from my ribs, snarled, and threw it into a tree. It hit, bounced once, then blinked into meat.

  My side burned. My back screamed. Pain Resistance held the edges back, but every movement reminded me I was one misstep from the dirt.

  One left.

  It crouched. Snarling. It launched, but I caught it mid-air. Slammed it into the ground with everything I had.

  The impact left a shallow dent in the Earth. My blade followed, burying itself through the neck. One twitch, then silence.

  Gone.

  Just meat left behind.

  I stayed crouched. Panting. Blood soaking into my shirt. I was aching, sweating—but still alive.

  I let out a breath.

  “Yeah,” I said, voice rough. “I might actually enjoy this.”

  Rabbit steak for dinner, then.

  I reached down, hand brushing the meat—

  And stopped.

  The earth trembled beneath my boots.

  I straightened slowly. Turned toward the trees.

  Branches snapped as a towering shape emerged. Another rabbit—but not like the others. It had to be at least seven feet tall. Muscles rippling under black and red fur. One eye clouded. The other burned red. Yellow fangs gleamed between parted lips, drool trailing down its chin.

  My fingers tightened on the hilt of my dagger.

  “Status,” I muttered.

  [FOREST HOPPER – MONSTER TIER II]

  High threat. Extremely aggressive. Will attack when the pack is endangered. Meat valuable. Risk significant.

  Great. So what do you do when your entire pack's dead?

  It screamed.

  Teeth bared. Muscles coiled.

  Yeah. That answered that.

  “Come on then,” I said, voice flat.

  And braced for the charge.