Dec 24
fiction 0 comments challenge: Lost

Can You Survive?

My head spins, the disturbing feeling of nausea rising in my stomach.
What is going on here?
I slowly sit up, careful not to go too fast. My head pounds, my eyesight swimming.
I'm so confused. 
I look around and take in the view before me.
There are trees everywhere. I turn my head every which way, the nausea climbing its' way up my throat with each turn.
As I feel the panic kick in, I feel the violent sting of bile rising in my throat. I retch, but since there's barely anything in my stomach, not much comes out. 
After I get over the feeling of sickness, I get to my feet without any hesitation. That's when I notice the large knife and note next to it.
So you woke up, it says, good. Take this knife and go explore. You have two choices: live,
Or die trying.

I reread the menacing note. I take hold of the knife, my only means of survival. 
I have no chance out here.
I grip the knife tightly and venture off into the tangle of trees.
I've regained full consciousness and surprisingly, I don't feel nauseous now, but the panic is rising in my chest. I don't stand a chance out here. How did I even get here, anyways?
I hear a nasty snarl behind me, and I barely have time to turn around and see what's there when a giant, furry animal jumps on me. The beast growls in my face and snaps at me, biting my left arm below the elbow and taking a chunk out of my right calf. I scream in pain, tears stinging my eyes. Instinct kicks in, making me unusually violent and ferocious. I stab the animal with my knife repeatedly, listening to its' whimpers. I hate killing animals, unless if it's for food or defense. And right now, my life is more precious than this thing's life. We wrestle for a few minutes as I continue to stab it. It manages to bite my right hand, taking off my pinkie. I don't even feel the pain, mostly due to the rush of adrenaline I'm receiving.
As soon as I know I've killed it, I roll it off of my body and onto the ground. 
It's a wolf.
Oh, crap! I think. If that thing was with a pack... I'm done for.
I squat and listen for any more growls, snarls, or howling. After about twenty minutes, I conclude that the wolf I killed was a loner.
I continue on with my trek, looking at the map that I'd just barely discovered on the back of the note. So far, I'd been going the right way. 
I reach a modest-looking log cabin, smoke rising from the stone chimney. I approach it cautiously, unwilling to trust whoever was inside but yet wanting to get medical help. I decided seeking medical help was more important.
I knocked on the door twice before a middle-aged man opened the door.
"Welcome to Ravenwood Manor," he greeted me, welcoming me in. I stepped over the threshold and entered the foyer. It opened up to a cozy living room with a blazing fire going in the hearth.
"Mr. Ravenwood? Your guest has made it," the man said, leading me into the living room. Another middle-aged man, about mid-fifties, was dressed in a red bathrobe and smoking a pipe. 
How cliche is that? I thought.
"Ah, Mr. Fernson," Ravenwood said, his smile turning into an icy leer, "You've actually made it. Good. We'll see how you do this time."
This time? I didn't like the sound of that.
 
About the Author: Leah.W
"True humility is not thinking less of yourself; it is thinking of yourself less" -C.S Lewis
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