Here’s a new story I’ve been working on; It’s long from finished, but I decided to post what I’ve done so far.
Ioak was passing out. Into the Deathsleep. He was vaguely aware of that fact as he fell. He stumbled back, hoping to fall or step onto something, anything. He spat a curse out when his foot scraped off of a root jutting out of the ground, even though he was glad to have found it. His vision sharpened dramatically and he was awake enough to smack himself.
“That’s better. Somewhat. D–n. Apparently my knee is better. I’ll have to find something else now…”
Just to hold him until he did find something else, he purposefully scraped his hand against the rough bark of a tree. In a moment his hand was slowly dripping blood.
He unwrapped the scarf he wore and then re-wrapped it around his hand.
“Should hold me for…” he thought for a moment, “four hours at least.”
He walked to a small hut in the middle of the forest he was in. It was a old hunter’s shack, stocked with a surprisingly large amount of dried food. He had found it late in the Eth War when he was stationed in the area. He walked inside and put down the pack he had with him. He went over to a small medical pack that was in the hut, unwrapped his hand, and took out some sefunate of anx and opened the dark brown glass bottle. He then took out a piece of cotton gauze, covered the opening of the bottle, then tipped it over once, twice. With the gauze his daubed his wound, a painful but necessary process.
He closed the bottle, put it away, and pulled out a length of heavy cloth. Keeping the gauze pressed to the wound, he circled the fabric around his hand several times before cutting it and neatly tucking it inside itself. He looked at the finished product, a hand that would still be fairly usable.
He ate some of his store of dried meat and berries that he had picked earlier that week. He went back outside and walked towards the end of the forest, where the desert began. The forest wasn’t dry at all, and he couldn’t figure out why or how there could be a desert next to it.
The sand was flat, but it was a hot day and the waves of heat made it hard to see. But he thought he could barely make out the outline of Semla, the closest town to where he was. The center of it was a large oasis that gave the town water and some amount of food.
He turned around and walked back to his hut, as it was beginning to get darker, and one wouldn’t want to be in the forest unprotected too long after it got dark. Bears and panthers abounded in the forest and enjoyed a midnight meal of an unsuspecting passerby.
Once he got there, he opened the cupboard and pulled out a half-eaten loaf of bread. He had been rationing himself with it, and by this time it was quite stale. He sliced two thin slices and spread some of his meager store of jam on them. He ate them slowly.
He drank some water, laid on his bed, and slept.
The next morning he awoke. He went to a nearby river and washed his clothes. While they were drying, he bathed in the cool water. After doing so, he re-dressed and went back to his hut to get his sword. After walking a few minutes, he found the path he was looking for. A long straight path that lead through the densest of the jungle into a clearing.