Rise of The Fallen

–Kora–

I sat up and immediately regretted it as the room started spinning, my heading aching and my stomach twisting in knots from hunger. I clammored to my feet, leaning against the cave wall for support as I walked to the bowl filled with rain water in the back.

I scooped some of the water with my hand and drank, desperate to ease my starvation. It didn’t work, and my stomach cramped hard. My hand shook as I reached for more water, and I silently cursed to myself. I felt so weak. I was fatigued from being chased down last night, and now too paranoid to sleep.

I’d stayed up all night clutching my makeshift bone knife in my hand, half-expecting that native who chased me all the way to the river to suddenly walk through the cave’s opening.

I knew I stood no chance fighting him with the brittle weapon, especially considering the state I was in, but I wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

Why did he have to be there in the forest last night? That chase had depleted the last bit of energy I had, and my hunt was completely ruined. I’d lost the much needed food and furs that I had spent all week prepping for. All of my hard work, wasted.

Sighing, I sat down by my fire and removed some of the charcoal from the pit with a stick to cool down. I was extremely lucky with the way things turned out last night. I might not have gotten food, but I did escape with my life, unharmed.

Had that native caught me, or decided to shoot me with his bow and arrows, I’d be a corpse right now, rotting on the forest floor for all the crazy alien creatures to snack on. I huffed at the idea.

Using the burnt tip of the stick, I ended up drawing a crude figure of the native on the wall, with horns and a long squiggly tail. I gave him sharp teeth, a bow and some arrows slung over his back. Then I drew myself lying beside him, dead on the ground with crossed out eyes and an arrow through my body. I even used some red flower petals as dye to mimic blood and smeared it on the picture.

Leaning back, I studied my artwork, unimpressed. It honestly looked like something a morbid eight year old would draw. Ugh. Very mature, Kora.

Going back over to the charcoal I had separated from the fire, I made sure they were cooled down before throwing them into my mortar and pestle to grind them into a thin, dusty powder.

After my encounter with one of the bounty hunters weeks ago, I learned pretty quickly that if I wanted to survive I needed to find a way to blend into my environment. It was hard to evade predators in order to hunt and scavenge when you stuck out like a sore thumb in the middle of the forest.

Originally, I’d used mud, but that didn’t last more than a few days. It dried too quickly and then cracked, usually falling off and leaving noticeable patches all over my skin. I’d needed something else. Something better.

Like charcoal.

If ground into a fine powder and mixed with a little bit of water, it was a great cover for my skin, helping me blend in at night. I’d managed to hide in plain sight from a number of creatures by using it. Who would’ve thought such a simple thing could be such a lifesaver?

After a good hour of pulverizing the charcoal into powder, I had a decent amount to cover up with for the next two days. Now I could focus on the real problem at hand.

Food.

I’d lost my chance to get proper food when that native chased me off, I’d depleted all of my natural resources in the area, and the most I’d been able to catch protein-wise has been the tree lizards. Every time I managed to kill one, I got attacked by its little buddies, bitten and scratched by dozens of them. It was like kicking a hornet’s nest.

Aside from the lizards and a few berries and nuts, I hardly knew what was safe for consumption and what wasn’t. My notebook didn’t hold much information on the plants or wildlife in this area, and the plants that were safe, I’d already picked clean and eaten.

Unfortunately, I’d used my only arrow last night–I’d never been able to replicate it–and now I had practically nothing to hunt with. The bone knife was so small and flimsy, it would probably break if I tried to use it.

Still. I had to do something or I was toast. Fuck, toast sounds good.

Exhausted, I did my best to mentally prepare for what I might encounter. There was a chance the native was still searching for me, but they tended not to roam too much during the day, so I wouldn’t need to really worry about him. Just everything else out there that wanted to kill me. It gave me a headache just thinking about it.

Sighing, I slathered my exposed skin in charcoal powder and ventured outside. Making my way to the river, I topped off my canteen and traveled upstream to an area I hadn’t explored yet.

Usually, I would take things slow when scouting out new places but I needed to find something to eat, even if it meant going out of my comfort zone. I continued trekking the forest for hours, marking more trees as I went so I could easily find my way back home. I had to take breaks on multiple occasions, exhaustion dogging each step. It was made worse that my hunt for food was just as useless as it had been for weeks.

Groaning, I leaned against a tree and cursed under my breath. There was nothing that stuck out around me that could indicate a new food source, just more ferns and trees; hundreds and hundreds of trees.

I kinda miss concrete.

With the sun peeking down from the treetops, there was likely only a few more hours of daylight. I needed to get back before dark unless I planned on being eaten.

My stomach churned, and I instinctively covered it with my arm. Fuck, I should be gorging on some juicy deer meat right now. Just thinking about what I’d lost made me irritated as I pushed on.

My foot got caught on something and I stumbled, nearly falling face first onto the forest floor. After regaining my balance, I looked down, paling when I noticed just what I’d tripped on.

Was that a foot?! A very dark skinned foot, belonging to a very large native lying face down in the dirt.

I scrambled back, my heart leaping from my chest, expecting the native to jump up from the ground and attack. When there was no movement, I shifted a bit closer. Blue blood–an oddity I’d learned about the inhabitants–soaked into the ground, the native’s hair matted from where he’d been injured.

Was he dead? Carefully circling around to get a closer look,I spied a bullet hole straight through the head.

Holy shit.

Definitely dead, then. But how long had he been here? Crouching down, I reached out hesitantly, touching his wrist. To my dismay, the body was still a bit warm. He hadn’t been here for long.

My head snapped up, eyes scanning my surroundings. Were their hunters still nearby? I didn’t see anything suspicious, and despite my horrible find, I breathed a small sigh of relief.

I glanced back down at the strange alien. His arms were decorated in tribal tattoos and a belt of some sort was fastened over his shoulder, attaching to another belt on his waist. Small pouches dangled from several grooves. But the biggest thing that caught my eye was the knife clutched in one of his hands.

Yes!

I leaned forward and gently pried the blade from his grasp. It was sharp, and much bigger than the knife from my survival kit. It felt a lot sturdier, too, and it was obvious that it had been well taken care of. Was I really willing to steal from the dead? It felt… wrong. But what choice did I have? None, especially if I wanted to live past the next few days.

My heart clenched a little, and I sent another look to my unlikely companion. I pitied the poor guy for the way he was left here to rot. Did he have a family or a tribe? Maybe they were looking for him. If so, they’d be devastated to find him like this, face down and dead in the dirt. I bit my lower lip.

I wouldn’t want to end up being abandoned out here like trash, forgotten and discarded.

I clutched the knife. No one would search for me if I perished. My body would be left to decay and to be picked apart by scavengers.

I didn’t want to die like that; to be forgotten and left to rot.

Taking a deep breath, I secured the knife to my belt before doing my best to move the alien. Turning him onto his back, I placed his arms over his abdomen and closed his eyes. I even spent a few minutes gathering flowers to place over him. Once I was done, I stood up.

He looked peaceful now.

I didn’t exactly believe in deities, or the afterlife, but I did hope he ended up where he was supposed to. I knew nothing of this man; if he was a good person or not. Hell, had I run into him while he was alive, he probably would’ve killed me on sight.

So why do I care about him so much?

A slight breeze passed over me, and I hesitated another moment before turning and walking away.

Maybe I’m just hoping when my time is up, when I die and my body lay cold somewhere on the forest floor, someone will find me and do the same.

Maybe someone would care.