I noticed the sound of the rain fade just a bit, making my way to my feet again.

  Before a gust hit my cheek

  “Hello.”

  I lowered my voice to be calm, smooth, comforting, not to the bird that seemed to magically appear but myself.

  slowly beginning towards the little thing. “Where have you been, I was looking for you” Slowly I crept closer and closer. My mouth watered as it swooped down in a rigid and sharp jolt just past me.

  Joy raw joy as I turn to find it again,

  I turn to realize.

  It's dead.

  It's been dead.

  The bone arched angled toward me there's no mistaking this piece as life,

  majestic no less but the beautiful architecture,

  True voussoirs, glossy, and pristine.

  They are pulled, gutted and the insects, whirling around their new oasis.

  My mind, is it playing tricks? Nothing seems to add up... I must be in worse shape than I thought.

  I collect what I can, it feels natural to do so.

  But my mind was still unhappy with the arrangement.

  I make my way back doing the usual odd jobs along the way.

  Even with the wind and cold, I feel more alive than I had before. Another gust of wind hits my back as I look towards the open field I've stumbled upon only to realize. The blood rushing in my ears wasn't what I thought it was.

  A cliffside, a waterfall. And oh was it beautiful. I turned away from my work and walked toward the water to clean my hands standing to face the mist of the falls. Watching the cliff face below I see what appears to be an abandoned query.

  I don't know what they could have found here, nothing but limestone, maybe sandstone? And I'm sure there are easier places to get that? But much to my dismay there are no people or tools at least not that I can see from here. As much as I'd love to go see what the others found so interesting, there aren't any others, at least not here. And I'd like to cook in daylight this time. I walked along the water a ways until I found my camp, but the rain has softened the earth and chilled it more than I'd like.

  I got back late, slumping down into the carved earth from the other day to guard myself from the wind. It's not much warmer, and the ground is a bit harder than the plush grass, but we can certainly fix that.

  It's nice to have a bit of shelter. But It will need more than a little work, and I'm not up for that quite yet. I grabbed a few twigs, dragging them over to the pit, and throwing them down. It's a good size around three feet wide and a bit over a foot deep. It will keep the fire safe for a bit longer with the storm brewing, might even dry things out a bit if I'm lucky.

  I allowed time to pass, and the sounds and signs slowly faded back into my memory, winter approaches and so does the unnatural stillness life has become.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  In the next few days construction goes smoothly: a small nook with the ash pushed to the sides and a wood and thatch roof. It's cozy and certainly warmer. The rocks are uneven in the earth so I collected stones from near the water smooth and able to be packed down to make a more suitable flooring, no clothing or blankets just yet. But I'll keep looking in the next few weeks.

  The rest has been good for me. Something feels right about having a room with four walls. My strength isn't what it was but the memory of a good meal still pulls on my heart.

  Smoked meat, gammy, grilled,

  something you'd eat willingly,

  something worth eating.

  So natural so normal to eat over a fire, I'd give anything for a meal like that.

  anything.

  Winter, early yet.

  But the bug seems to be preparing its burrow, and more curious, they begin to learn more and more of our secrets.

  As the blood seeps through the cracks of life.

  The bug shall be our door between life and death no question.

  Even now they long to become one of us.

  Cold. Gently creeping in through the thatch weaving down onto the stone floor, reaching through the root-filled walls past the water slats.

  Slowly covering my face as I begin to come to life again, my mouth tastes like fishing weights, metallic, cold, still, my aching teeth aren't controlled by me. The grinding and chopped ridges keep biting me in the night, as I've been distracted watching the stars and listening to the wind.

  It's winter, no hiding from it now and today might be one of the last days before snowfall, the last chance to find civilization. The river I'm near runs north and that might be my best bet, although I haven't hit anything but cliff sides and rock walls up that way.

  One foot in front of the other let's not confuse things now.

  I had had a closer look at that cliffside recently. It almost seems man-made, maybe a bunch of rubble left over from a mining project or something. I unlock my knees as I pull myself up into the sun. By this point, my nails have grown back out and my palms have cleaned up nicely. I did end up using a bit of my jacket sleeve to rewrap that knife but I'm doing well all things considered. I grabbed my water and started walking. The days are shorter, but there's days ahead of me to make the best out of.

  When I reached the cliffside I realized the stones pulled out a bit farther, a rock slide? or dumping ground? I’m not dumb enough to jump up on the stones but I follow them just the same. Some with sharp edges, some with smoothed corners. It’s strange. I wish there was something more.

  They've grown no moss, no wear, they're new but with no source?

  I walked, and walked, time passing like this. It's an awful feeling the farther I move the farther I am from what I know and these woods they don't follow any rule of nature.

  I don't follow any rule of nature.

  There's nothing to follow, just a wall, a cold heartless wall weaving,

  Waving,

  Only falling away to find.

  A railroad?

  Humanity,

  civilization,

  hope.

  It's here I've found it,

  tunnels straight through and it falls back into the trees. I can't believe it. This is how they got down to the query, there must be a mining town, a fire tower? Something, I'm sure. The cold creeping into the evening pulled at my mind,

  but I need to know.

  I have to know.

  I started walking, no running.

  Chasing the men that build it not pain or fear could stop me.

  I got to the tunnels, blackness, emptiness.

  The abyss.

  The type only a human can create, its ethereal, the solace type of emotion.

  Yet no cloth, no fire, no light the abyss stared into me,

  a challenge.

  My catacombs, I stepped onto the planks watching the metal curve into me to be held by them.

  A steep wood,

  A jolt gravel,

  I follow wood,

  gravel,

  wood,

  Farther gravel,

  wood,

  nothing.

  No,

  I looked back a white spot greeted me.

  I can't not like this,

  there's no end,

  there's no answer,

  I made the choice to turn back,

  before the light betrayed me.