Dan woke on a rustling bed of branches and leaves and listened. The forest was still silent, as if no one else was nearby. Yet the unease would not fade. His survival instincts still kept him on edge.

  He rose slowly, rubbing his stiff muscles, and looked around his temporary shelter. Everything was the same as yesterday. Fallen trunks lay scattered around. A thick carpet of dry leaves and twigs covered the ground. Thin rays of morning sunlight slipped through the dense canopy above.

  Not far away, between the trees, a hollow darkened the ground. It was filled with leaves and moss and looked like the open mouth of some animal. A faint mist drifted up through the narrow gap. The earth still held the warmth of the night. Somewhere beyond that dark mouth predators might be hiding. Or people.

  Dan knew that if he stayed here, he would not last long. He had to move. He had to look for rescue. And if rescue did not exist, then he needed to find a better shelter where neither predators nor unfriendly people could reach him.

  Before leaving, he returned to the place where the fight had happened yesterday. The tiger’s body had gone cold. It was clear that small scavengers had visited during the night. The fur was ruffled in places and bite marks showed on its side. Dan picked up the sharpened stone that had served him as a knife and got to work. It was far harder than he had expected. The dull edge slipped and cut unevenly. He had to press hard and tear the pieces free.

  He cut several large slabs of meat, only as much as he could carry, and wrapped them in broad leaves so the blood would not stain everything around him. Then he struggled to slice off part of the hide and made a crude bag for the meat. He did not try to remove the whole hide. That would take too much time, and staying here was already becoming dangerous. Shadows were flickering in the bushes again. The scavengers were coming back.

  He gathered his few belongings and took the broken branch he had fitted with a sharpened tip the day before. The point would be useful.

  After looking around, Dan chose a direction.

  He had spent the night in a ravine where a thin stream ran along the bottom. The flow was weak, but it had to lead to a river sooner or later. A river meant a chance. There might be life there. People. Civilization. And even if he met no one, water alone could help him survive.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  A river was also a reliable guide. If he followed the current downstream, he would not get lost. Eventually it would lead to the sea. And near the sea there was always someone. People. Ships. Anything would be better than this silent forest.

  He moved slowly toward the faint sound of water, placing each step carefully and trying not to make noise.

  The forest was dense and damp. The air smelled of wet earth, pine needles, and flowers. Branches cracked under his boots. He noticed animal tracks in the soft soil. Light impressions of paws and claw marks scratched into the bark. The animals were clearly closer than he would have liked.

  He stopped suddenly. A fresh branch lay on the ground. It could have been broken by someone who had passed by not long ago. There were no sounds and no movement, yet that small detail made his heart tighten.

  A few times during the night he had thought he saw eyes in the bushes. At first he blamed the concussion. Firelight, exhaustion, a mind filling in the gaps. But after another brief flash he could not dismiss it so easily. The eyes had been still and cold. Too aware to be just light reflecting from leaves.

  It could have been a person. Or a group.

  Could he assume they were enemies? Maybe they were simply afraid. Maybe they were waiting for a chance to attack. They might be hunters guarding their territory. Every option was possible and none of them sounded comforting.

  He narrowed his eyes and ran through the rules of survival in his mind. Before making conclusions, gather information. Sleeping with your back exposed is a mistake. Shouting first is also a mistake. The answer was simple. Stay away and avoid showing yourself unless necessary.

  The scratches from yesterday’s chase began to ache again. They burned and itched enough to leave no doubt that the fear of the night had been real.

  Well, he thought with a bitter smile, if this is a dream, it is a very inconvenient one. The wounds hurt far too realistically. The irony helped him keep his sanity.

  He needed to find a safe place and think everything through without constant distraction. Yet the basic needs remained. Water. Fire. Shelter. Until he could turn everything into a plan, the small pulses of anxiety would keep returning.

  He quickened his pace. The sound of water was getting closer.

  As the noise of the river grew louder, Dan could not help imagining what it would be like to meet people. Maybe there would be fishermen ahead. Or tourists sitting by a campfire with backpacks, tents, and a thermos of coffee.

  He would catch their eyes, raise his hand in greeting, and perhaps for the first time in all this time hear a human voice.

  "Just hope they do not run when they see me," he thought with a crooked smile as he looked at his torn pants and dirty hands.

  The river turned out to be fast and wide, about twenty meters from bank to bank. Dan did not even think about measuring the depth. There were no signs of civilization along the shore.

  That left only one option. Walk downstream along the bank.

  He had been walking beside the river for more than an hour, looking for a place where water would be close at hand and where no unexpected visitor could appear without warning.

  From this point on, the story slowly shifts from pure survival to something more uncertain.