The beast's head swung from Gale's grip as he silently stepped through the leaves of the forest. The book was in his other hand, tucked close to his body. His stomach growled, and the beast head didn't look all the more tasty.

  The sound of the creek got louder as he got closer. The air felt more and more moist with each step toward it. After passing the last tree, the familiar creek came into view.

  He dropped the head and book beside the creek and kneeled at the stream's edge. Gale cupped his hands and brought the cool water to his lips. The first sip refreshed him as if he hadn't drank for days. The adrenaline by now had completely disappeared.

  Gale saw himself in the creek water. Blood and gore from what happened splattered all over him. He had vanquished the beast that threatened the inner peace he had. Punching back at life felt exhilarating.

  He wanted to wash up as he saw his vague reflection in the darkness. But, his current clothes were his only clothes. He needed to rest. If he could kill more of those beasts, the leather on them could be made into some usable armour and clothes. For now, he needed to rest.

  With his thirst gone, he felt surprisingly better. He glanced back at the area and back at the alcove. It was no longer safe. On threat assessment, if that thing came up to him while he was sleeping and got too close, he would die in his sleep. He needed to get up high.

  Gale looked up high. It was hard to see through the darkness, yet he could make out the outlines of the branches up above. The branches were thick enough to hold him. Only problem was bringing the head and the book up from the lower forest floor onto a branch.

  Can't leave you down here, and I'm not about to lose my only meal ticket.

  First, fire.

  Gale started gathering stuff for a fire. He only picked the driest leaves and sticks.

  A branch pricked his finger, causing a tiny amount of blood to pool. It hurt. His hands and fingers had gotten soft from the years of inaction at the orphanage. When he lived with mom and dad, his training would make sure that his hands had thick enough skin to not get a small prick like this.

  Gale continued, pulling the bark off a tree for tinder. Although his skin became soft, the skill was etched onto his bones already. He would never forget how to do anything.

  The rough bark felt familiar. It made him think of all those days and nights alone in the forest when dad trained him. While collecting materials, he remembered how to build a fire.

  "Start with the piece of log, use friction to create heat, then put the tinder in. The more, the better," He whispered to himself.

  Before starting, he stopped to listen to the forest. Leaves rustled and growls came from somewhere far away. Anything could attack him. He had to move fast to make food so he could quickly climb the tree for safety. He picked a spot near the creek to set up.

  He put the materials in a pile and dug a fire pit with his bare hands. He cleared out small debris, made a small hole, and put stones in a circle to keep the flames in one place. He arranged the firewood like a teepee and made a fire starter with a piece of log that would light the tinder. A bit of pride swelled in him. He was finally putting everything he learned into action. Even with whatever brought him here, he was ready for this tough life.

  He started making the fire. Moving a stick back and forth against a log. He remembered getting blisters as a kid when dad made him build a fire every day. Making fire was basically in his bones now. It was muscle memory.

  Sweat formed on his forehead. His arms started getting tired. Then finally, a bit of smoke came from the log. He quickly grabbed the tinder and put it on the hot spot where the smoke came from. The heat caught the tinder, using it as fuel to grow. He hurriedly put it under the firewood pile and soon the fire grew big enough to use.

  He added wood carefully, making sure it would last as long as possible. As it grew, warmth spread through him, a feeling he hadn't had in a long time.

  With the fire going, Gale now looked at the beast's head, getting ready for what he had to do. Surviving meant doing whatever it took.

  As he was about to prep the head, he heard a howl from far away. Gale's head snapped toward the sound. It was closer this time. For the first time, he felt the essence flow through him, giving him strength where he needed it. He felt like he could've jumped half way up to the branch above, about 3 or 4 stories high. It was a weird feeling to get used to.

  He kept working, faster now while keeping his ears open to everything around him.

  His stomach made noises as he looked at the head. It wasn't ideal, but it was all he could eat right now. He'd heard that some cultures on Earth ate animal heads, so it couldn't be that bad. Traveling was a dream he never got to do. His parents never thought about going anywhere. Every day was just about practicing his skills more and more.

  Looking into the beast's eye felt weird, but his mouth was watering. He wondered what it would taste like, and if it would be good like they said in those travel videos he watched online.

  "It's you or me, pal. I'm the one who killed you. I'm the one that gets to eat you. It's natural selection," he said quietly.

  He made a basic spit over the fire. He balanced it with two Y-shaped branches he picked out carefully. It had to be big enough to hold up the head.

  He stuck the stick into the head's mouth and out through its neck. Then he set it on the branches. The head started to sizzle as fat dripped into the flames.

  Right about now, the orphanage's slop would've been pretty good. Boring, but better than whatever this beast head rottisierre was. An utmost delicacy of the forest.

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

  Rolling his eyes, he turned the spit again. The leathery skin started dripping with fat and from the shine alone, it started to crisp up.

  The smell hit him. Gamey, but tempting. His nose opened wide as he breathed it in. There was no seasoning, nothing like the smells that came from the orphanage's kitchen.

  Mom taught him that meat smells different depending on how well it's cooked. When the smell changed, he knew it was ready.

  Gale stood up, looking around the plants. He spotted one that had a leaf big enough to hold the head. Usually bigger leaves don't signify poison. It was a safe pick. He headed back to his pit after picking off a couple of large leaves.

  He took the head off the fire and put it on a big leaf. He wasn't sure where to start eating. The beast's body was different from Earth animals. Plus, he'd never eaten a head before. It was now or never.

  He grabbed part of the cheeks and pulled. The meat came off easily. It was hot, probably enough to burn his fingers. But when he pulled back, he didn't feel burned. His body had definitely changed, tougher than he was before.

  Gale picked up the piece again, blew on it and bit. It wasn't good. Not at all. It was tough and gamey with a bitter taste that made him want to throw up. Dad always said food is food, just swallow it. With that in mind, he swallowed it. As long as it kept him alive, taste didn't matter. Good food was just a luxury he couldn't have now.

  He chewed slowly, trying not to gag. Every time he swallowed a piece of meat, warmth spread through him. Energy flowed into his body, washing away how tired he was from the life-or-death situation he'd just been in.

  He attacked the head more, tearing into it. The gagging stopped and he somehow got used to the taste. Not so bad after all. A few bites to get used to, but it wasn't anything life threatening.

  Waste nothing. In survival, every scrap counts. That's what dad said. Now he was putting into full practice in a place he never imagined he would, an alien world full of alien beasts the size of garbage trucks. Yup, that's it.

  He broke the head open, showing the mushy brain inside. Lots of cultures ate brain, he told himself over and over. It was nothing. If they could eat it, he could too. But they had seasoning. This had none. Gale cursed to himself.

  "Waste nothing," he said. He scooped up part of the brain. The gag reflex came back. He almost spit out the gray stuff on the first bite, but he forced himself not to. The brain had lots of nutrients, another lesson from his dad. Every mouthful was a struggle to keep down.

  Gale threw dirt on the fire after finishing the rest of what he could. The left as soon as the fire disappeared, leaving him almost shivering. Fire would just attract more attention during sleep.

  He looked up at the tree beside him. Its branches were huge. Each one stretched out far and wide that it seemed to blend with the other branches of trees.

  Bppl om jamb. He grabbed the tree bark and climbed until he found the first branch that could comfortably support his weight, and this one was wider than his room back in the orphanage.

  Ripping vines off and gathering leaves, he formed a makeshift bed, and laid on the solid branch. He looked at the stars above. All the star positions were nothing like that of Earth’s and not even the fictional star map that dad made him memorize.

  He half-expected to hear laughter, to see cameras come out from the shadows. Then the director would say "cut," and the prank would be over. But the forest stayed quiet except for Just for a minute. I'll close my eyes for just a minute…

  [Warning: Hostile Entity Detected nearby.]

  Gale woke up suddenly from the notification. How long had he slept? He quickly looked at the status screen.

  [Essence: 18/100]

  At the rate of 1 essence per hour, he'd been asleep for 18 hours. The scenery hadn't changed. It was still dark and the light from the second moon still covered everything. But it was darker as clouds blocked the permanently eclipsed sun.

  A twig broke somewhere below.

  He froze, barely breathing. He listened hard for any sound from below. For a moment, there was only quiet. He couldn't feel the monster, meaning it was still too far to be picked up by Breath of the Void.

  Then he heard it. A low growl that sent chills through him.

  Something was down there. Hunting.

  Gale lay flat against the branch, trying to make himself as small as possible. He cursed quietly, wishing he'd climbed higher.

  The growl came again, closer this time. He heard leaves moving and claws scratching against bark.

  It was climbing. At least trying to. The beast kept falling as it reached a height where its legs couldn't support it from the ground.

  For now, he was safe, but fear almost took over. Remember, dad's lesson, Gale. Stay calm. Check the situation. Find a way out.

  He looked up, searching for an escape, a higher branch. But in the dark with something chasing him, he wasn't sure he could climb easily. One mistake could end everything.

  The creature was getting closer. He could hear its breathing and smell its dirty leather scent.

  He had to decide. Stay and hope it didn't find him, or risk everything by climbing up.

  His muscles got ready to move. But before he could do anything, a sharp screech cut through the air above. Another screech answered, then another, and many more. The forest filled with metal-like screeching calls.

  The beast below stopped. He heard it stop scratching its claws on the bark. Then the sounds started again. This time it was moving down. It was running away. Whatever made those screeches scared it off.

  The screeches grew louder, coming from all directions at once. Gale covered his ears. It was too loud. The noise was unlike anything on Earth. It sounded like metal scraping with a mix of a high pitch tone and a cricket.

  Gale saw movement through gaps in the leaves, but couldn't tell what it was. They had wings and their feathers weirdly reflected light. Thousands of them.

  One flew low enough that he felt wind from its wings. He saw sharp talons and giant wings that seemed unreal.

  He was exposed on the branch. Any of these flying things could land and eat him. But he couldn't climb down with the beast still there.

  He was trapped.

  The creatures circled around and the noise got louder. Something suddenly landed at the end of his branch. Gale's eyes opened wide to see the creature fully.

  It was a nightmare unlike anything he'd seen. Its body had shiny, reflective scales. Wings folded at its sides, each feather looking sharp as a knife. But its face froze him in place.

  Its head was shaped like a human's, but with no eyes. Just smooth skin where eyes should be. Somehow, Gale knew it was looking right at him.

  The creature's mouth opened, tearing the smooth skin to show needle-like teeth. It let out a shriek that chilled Gale to the bone.

  Time seemed to slow. He saw its muscles tighten, ready to attack. He knew he should move, but something kept him still.

  The creature shrieked again, jumping forward with talons out. Suddenly, a bright blue light filled Gale's vision, taking off the bird monster's top half. He felt heat on his face.

  The creature didn't even have time to cry out as its upper body disappeared. Its flesh singed where the light hit it.

  From the corner of his eye, Gale saw the blue moon blink. His skin prickled all over. The moon had looked irritated before closing its eye again. Like it was a spoiled kid breaking an alarm clock for waking it up.

  The winged creature's lower body fell to the ground. All the noise stopped. Nothing could be heard, not even wings flapping.