Rewind: A Grimdark LitRPG Series (Pyresouls Apocalypse, Book 1) by James Callum (reading tree .txt) 📕

plant would kill him, and he suspected that many of the plants were unknown to even the most esteemed botanist.

The rain drove him on, it pushed at his back and soaked his clothes. His boots were the only thing that remained dry. He had bought into the whole hipster trend when he moved to Seattle and the pair of expensive hiking boots had kept his feet dry this entire time.

Every other part of him, however, was soaked to the bone.

Despite the dreariness of the rainstorm, it seemed to have a stronger effect on the villagers that had decided to chase him. They never got close enough to see more than a fleeting water-logged glimpse of their quarry, and with the rain dampening their torches they eventually gave up.

Hal kept going regardless.

The trees became larger, the land more unruly, but no longer hilly. He thought he heard the sound of running water but through the wind, rain, and darkness he couldn’t locate it.

He cupped his hands in a feeble attempt at catching the rain to quench his cracked lips and parched throat. His gait became leaden and clumsy. The uneven ground tripped him more often than not.

Eventually, fatigue and fear claimed their due.

Hal nearly collapsed when he finally found a reasonably dry section of underbrush beneath the sheltering roots of a large tree he could curl up beneath.

Sleep fell upon him in an instant. His dreams were filled with more running. This time from terrible beasts. Monsters that reached out and wanted nothing more than to devour him whole.

When he awoke, the rain had slowed to a drizzle and in the tiny hollow he had found, he was almost warm. As consciousness returned, he nearly screamed at the dozens of insects that were crawling all over him.

Hal had not slept in a warm comfortable place, as he had first thought. But rather a nasty, dirty hole with a roof of roots and an oozy smell he couldn’t clear from his nostrils.

Fear lent him strength and Hal quickly got to his feet, brushing and smacking at his arms and legs to rid himself of the crawling things.

He shivered, more from the bugs than the cold, and immediately set off again. He hoped he was going in the same direction he was traveling the night before.

It took him some time to find his bearings. How long, he couldn’t tell. The overcast, drizzly sky gave him no clues as to the sun’s position. But he did find the direction he was walking last night and, more importantly, he found a river.

Whether it was the same one he had heard on and off throughout the evening, he couldn’t be sure.

And he didn’t care.

The river leaned down into a trough and trickled over a bed of bright river stones every color of the rainbow. It was barely five yards wide and shallow enough that he could wade through it up to his hips if he so chose.

Hal dunked his head into the cold waters. Refreshed, he cupped his hands and drank his fill.

For once, he felt a measure of safety. There were no ominous noises, no beasts to hunt him, no monsters like in his dreams. And no insane people chasing him.

The guard had, quite literally, lost his florking mind when he saw the mark on Hal’s arm. And apparently, so had he.

There was no explanation for his inability to speak properly or the strange, involuntary urge to mock the man. And with his sleeve ripped, it wasn’t going to be easy to hide it if he meant to venture into another village.

Which he knew he needed to do if only to find some dry clothes and food. He wasn’t any good at foraging and the gnawing pit in his middle demanded he eat something.

Hal smeared a handful of river mud over his mark. It was thick enough to block out the glowing light and he was filthy enough that it no longer looked out of place.

It was pitiful protection against prying eyes, he knew. But he also could not think of a better solution. He knew there was one but every time he grabbed at it, the concept vanished.

He needed to find a village to get some food and warm clothes somehow. And if these people were as backwaters as they seemed, they’d have their clothes drying out on a line.

And while he was trading his dirty, soggy clothes for dry ones, maybe there’d be a pie on the windowsill.

Yeah, right, he thought with a snort, rising to his feet. That’s about as likely as finding a door back to my apartment.

If he had to survive in the wilds, he would be dead. If not by some random animal, then by eating something poisonous.

And so, with a belly full of fresh water, Hal continued on. His stomach wasn’t fooled though. It soon began to grumble and groan loudly for something substantial.

Halfway through that day, Hal came upon another village.

This one was smaller, more like a farming community. Large fields in squarish patches ringed this side of the little village but he saw no crops. Only strange blocky impressions in the ground.

This village, like the one before it, was tucked away amid sheltering hills. But the land between them was relatively flat and the forest butted up against several homes. Many of which, he saw through the gaps in the trees, did indeed have clotheslines full of garments.

He had no way of knowing if the villagers here would be hostile. And after the last two interactions, he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to risk it.

He was somewhere else. Somehow, someway, he was in a different land.

What little instincts he possessed screamed at him that this was distinctly other. There were too many idiosyncrasies. Too many minor differences that added up to create an alien world that only looked like home on the surface.

He could no longer deny that he was far from home. No matter how much he wanted to.

Hal skirted the edge of the forest