NEVEREALM, DAY 100
There’s been so much to do since arriving, so much to learn.
I’ve done survival weeks before; Uncle Dave used to take me and the cousins up to Boundary Waters every summer to make sure we all touched grass at least once a year. We even did a one-month excursion into the forests of northern Arizona back when we were all fifteen. No phones. No specialized camping gear. No coolers. No magic. We didn’t live completely off the land, but we got a good feel for how it worked.
It’s been a different thing altogether here. Here I’ve had to learn a whole lot all over again, like how to tell which plants are edible and which would make me sick, which animals would respond with aggression, and more. Fortunately, so many of the lessons I’d already learned translate. I know how to fish with either a line or a spear, how to build snares, clean and dress small game, cook meat over a campfire or dry it in the sun. I can build a basic shelter – heck, I’ve done it a dozen times since I arrived – purify water, and perform first aid on myself.
And I still have six hundred days to go.
Mr. Z said no sapient life exists in this world. I’ve been traveling along the River Di’Tash for three months now, and there hasn’t been any sign of human (or humanesque) life. It’s weird, but while I miss my friends, I’m not as lonely as I thought I would be.
As Tabby traveled south, the forests of Neverealm became more dense, the undergrowth thick, the trees arcing overhead to blot out all but little glimpses of daylight. She only ventured into the woods to hunt, to gather wood for her fire, or to gather branches to weave into shelters, preferring to stick to the winding path of the River Di’Tash otherwise. The river remained her guide in this world, much as she trusted Sharayah to be back home, providing an escape from dangers and a clear direction for her journey.
On the morning of her one hundredth day, she sat on a boulder, listening to the calming babble of the waters, scribbling the last few words of her journal entry, when a lupine howl echoed from the nearby trees. She froze. Another predator? Her hand dropped to the knife at her belt and she slipped from her stone perch and into the knee-deep waters below with a splash. Crouching, her body pressed against the huge rock, she listened.
It sounded again, a cry, deep and plaintive, tinged with desperation. Tabby waded to the shore. Her instincts demanding she run, put as much distance as possible between herself and whatever animal might be out there, making such a sound. As she grabbed her crossbody bag, however, the mournful howl rang out once more, punctuated with a deep, forlorn whimper.
Whatever it was needed help.
With the greatest caution, she began to pick her way through the trees and undergrowth, slowly delving deeper into the thick forest. Whimpers and wails drove her onward, the despondent sounds of a hopeless soul, until she stepped into a clearing bathed in dappled sunlight. Across the center of the glade lay a fallen tree, and trapped amidst a tangle of vines and branches, a magnificent white wolf, fur matted, azure eyes filled with trepid fear darting about. Tabby froze, her heart skipping; she knew enough about wolves, at least wolves on Primal Earth, to be wary. Standing, this creature would be at least five feet at the shoulder, with teeth longer than her fingers and jaws powerful enough to snap her limbs. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to just leave it there as easy prey for something like the armored beast she’d fled two months back.
Arms extended, hands empty, fingers splayed, she stepped into the clearing. The wolf’s ears perked up, swiveling, and it turned its massive head, those blue eyes fixing on her. A low rumble rose in its throat, a threatening growl, and she stopped moving. Crouching low, she tilted her head back and to the side, revealing the tender skin of her neck to the wolf, hoping it would understand she meant it no harm, then she crept forward once more.
“Easy there, big guy,” she murmured, her voice a melody, a soft and soothing. The wolf tensed, its muscles bunching as she drew near, its instincts, she knew, urging it to attack. She moved with gradual, steady steps, calm and even, despite the thumping of her heart deep in her chest. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Help me. It was neither a sound nor an echo in her mind, but the wolf’s demeanor shifted and its wary gaze softened as a palpable wave of hope washed over her, carrying with it those two words. She froze, eyes widening slightly as she absorbed the power, analyzing it, feeling its familiar form.
Pneuma, she realized. This wolf is a creature of magic.
“I’m here to help,” she whispered, then knelt beside the trapped animal, one hand moving to the back of its head, scratching behind its ears. It responded with a throaty rumble, pressing its head against her hand. Then she got to work, her fingers laboring to untangle the vines that bound the mysterious wolf, mindless of the brambles and thorns that pricked at her hands. Those few too knotted to easily come undone were slashed with her knife, and soon the last of the vines fell away.
The fallen tree – small but heavy and dense – still pinned the wolf to the forest floor. Leaving the great beast’s side, she searched the clearing until she found a thick branch, freshly fallen from a nearby oak, something she could use for leverage.
“I’m going to try to lift the tree off of you,” she said as she wedged the branch under the trunk.
Yes, lift, the wolf’s pneuma responded. We lift.
She braced her shoulder against the branch, pressing upward with all her might against the makeshift pry. It cracked and strained with the pressure. The wolf shifted, as well, throwing its strength against the trunk, its legs trembling with effort as both of them hefted the tree gradually upward. With a cry, Tabby gave one final heave, and the white-furred creature slipped from its prison, scrabbling out into the clearing just as the branch snapped, and the fallen tree crashed back down into its erstwhile bed.
Thrown off balance, the young woman staggering forward a couple steps before she could right herself, then turned, watching in silent awe as the wolf shook off the twigs and leaves and remnants of vines, the last vestiges of its captivity, powerful muscles rippling beneath its ivory coat. The wolf wheeled to face her and stalked toward her, those sapphire eyes aflame with a blue light. It towered over her, an imposing example of a pure hunting machine. Every molecule cried out for her to run. Danger! Predator! But Tabby stood her ground as the majestic beast approached, once again tilting her head back and to the side, exposing her neck. It dipped its muzzle toward her, its breath hot on her skin.
Then a huge tongue lashed out and playfully licked her face. She responded with a sharp giggle, and the huge wolf danced back regarding her with a curious tilt of the head. Then it stepped close again, sniffed her, and licked her cheek once more before turning and bounding off into the woods.
Tabby watched as it disappeared into the brush, the exhilaration of this chance meeting finally settling inside her. When the wolf was gone, she finally spoke again. “There you go, boy. You’re free.”
For a handful of moments, she stood in silence. Then, with one final look toward the clearing, she turned and made her way back to her camp.