Page 11 of Entering a New World

Today really didn’t look like it was going to be a good day.

Damn.

I wanted to explore the beach a little bit more. Yesterday, I found out I actually wasn’t far from the ocean at all. It was maybe a five-minute walk away in the opposite direction of the lake—AKA my freshwater source. However, if the wind was that strong here, I could only imagine how it’d feel on the beach.

Looking into the camera again, I shrugged. “Looks like there’s a change of plans. I’ll go fetch more water right now, and then… we’ll see. A trip to the beach might have to wait till tomorrow.”

Or longer.

In theory, I was pretty sure stumbling around the forest or walking along the beach for hours at a time was not the smartest thing to do. I should probably try to move very little to conserve as much energy as possible, but… just sitting around with nothing to do wasn’t good for my mental health. Like at all.

It only made me think about all the things that could happen to me while I’m out here, and I really, really didn’t want to keep thinking about ways to die. I was at forty-three already—each one dumber than the one before.

Pushing my arms into the sleeves of my jacket, I pulled up the zipper and put on the hood, fastening the Velcro to keep it in place.

I rubbed my arms for a couple of seconds, then grabbed the two empty bottles. I wish Alistair would’ve given me at least three. It felt like two just weren’t enough to get me through the day—especially since I didn’t have anything to eat.

That was the one thing Wolfie apparently couldn’t help me with. When I’d asked him if he knew where I could find something to eat, he’d flattened his ears and whimpered.

I’d taken that as a no, even though I knew I shouldn’t take it as anything because it was a damn wolf. There was no way he understood what I was saying. I really did know that, yet a small part of me remained doubtful. A part of me noticed all the big and little oddities in Wolfie’s behaviour. But thinking about the ramifications of a wild animal understanding human language made my head hurt.

Or the headache was another sign of starvation.

Yawning, I braced myself, then headed outside again.

I didn’t know what time it was. I figured it must be morning because I’d only woken up a short while ago, but I couldn’t be certain since the sun was nowhere to be seen. It didn’t really matter, anyway. I needed water now, and then I needed to get back to the cabin and keep working on getting a fire started. Which wasn’t as easy as movies made it out to be.

Turning my head, I searched for a sign of my animalistic companion, but came up empty-handed. No sandy-brown flashes of fur anywhere. No yipping, no barking, no whining, no howling.

I sighed, then chastised myself. He was a wolf. A wild animal. He had better things to do than spend his whole day with me.

He was probably out hunting. Just because I didn’t have the first clue about how to get food, didn’t mean my wolf had the same problem. In fact, I really hoped he knew how to hunt his prey. A hungry wolf equalled a dangerous wolf.

“I’ll die here,” I sobbed into the camera, angrily wiping at my eyes. The wind was howling, a storm raging outside the cabins. The sounds of trees groaning and branches snapping a terrifying mix joined by the roaring of the ocean.

Pressing myself further into the corner of the cabin, I huddled beneath my sleeping bag as best as I could, but it was pointless.

It wasn’t raining; it was pouring, the air so heavy with water, the wind carrying endless amounts of raindrops, pushing them through every nook and cranny.

My back was soaked, my hair was soaked—everything was soaked.

Lightning bolts lit up the sky for a moment, followed by deep, rumbling thunder so loud I tried pressing my hands to my ears to dampen the sound.

“I don’t know what to do,” I shouted, trying to drown out the storm outside, even though it was probably a futile attempt. Hell, the chances of anyone ever seeing these tapes were small at best, but… I couldn’t stop recording.

If I stopped, I’d have to face the fact that I was alone.

Completely alone.

Even Wolfie had abandoned me. Well, he’d probably felt the storm coming and had sought out shelter.

There was no one to talk to, no one to discuss my options with.

“I’m not sure I’m safe here,” I shouted into the camera again, desperately clinging to the little black device. “I think a tree fell a couple of minutes ago, and I’m afraid the next one might hit the cabin and crush me. But… I don’t think heading outside is any safer.”

A deafening roar made me flinch. I let go of the camera to shield my head as a loud crashing drowned out the other sounds for a few seconds. The floor beneath me shook, and I… screamed.

I fucking screamed.

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