Warm light filled the cosy room, casting a rustic lustre on old-fashioned furniture. A singular flame danced upon a wick, playing shadowy monsters on the logs that made up the walls of the room he was in.

Vic had awoken in a cabin.

He was covered in a layers of various animal hide that snuggled up to him like any decent blanket.

The thought that he was back home did cross his mind for a moment, but one look around at the surrounding aesthetic, left that thought swept by the currents of his wakening mind.

Vic looked around at his surroundings again, trying to associate his surroundings with his memories. Luckily for him, the burning sensation slicing into shoulder reminded him of his earlier excursion with a fish-like thing.

Vic sat up with a jolt, causing the animal skins to slide of his shirtless form, revealing a heavily bandaged shoulder tied to him in a sling.

He saw more white than skin. He began to shake.

His pitiful descent into self-pity was short lived, however, the hut’s door swung open, the creaking of it’s joints sending bolts through Vic’s raw nerves, traveling up his spine like electricity.

Vic jumped again, his eyes widening and his muscles locking up in fear as if he expected to see a scaled monstrosity climbing through the entryway.

Bizarrely, instead of some eldritch being that would crush him like stale bread that he expected, a normal human appeared- or rather on old one.

Walking from the cold blackness that occupied the outside, an old man trudged into the meagre hut, all but soaked. Wrinkled pale skin that transitioned into a vapid grey beard, surrounded piercing amber eyes that began curl up into mirth.

He supposed he was staring too hard-

“What? Haven’t seen anyone as old as me before, eh” he said taking off his hood, revealing a bald head.

He wasn’t young… but Vic had seen older people.

Though I haven’t seen such a buff grandpa before

He had a stout and muscular frame, carrying wide shoulders with a slightly hunched back that made him look a bit short. What lay on his back was especially interesting, though.

An odd amber rod lay strapped to his back which, upon closer inspection, seemed to have grey lines swirl upon its surface unsimilar to any conventional material. No wonder seemed to sparkle in Vic’s eyes, however, after all, he was in so much fucking pain.

The man paused for a moment, looking at Vic’s sorry state only for a moment, before beginning to dig a through a pack strapped his side; eventually, pulling out a piece of bark.

“chew on this for a while, it’ll help with the pain” the unnamed man then sighed as he then took a chair and sat opposite to Vic.

The man looked at Vic probingly as he voraciously went at the piece of bark before, after a while of looking all pensive, he sighed “Don't swallow it. When I tracked down the blood trail you left behind, I found the corpse of a monster. The one you killed right?”

Vic nodded as he chewed.

Seeing his acknowledgement, he asked “was there anyone else who survived”

At this point Vic felt as if there was a bit of a miscommunication between them, but he seeing as he didn't want to antagonise him...

A sense of irritation welled up within him, he really felt as though he knew nothing anymore… but that didn’t stop him gnawing on the bark that he recieved.

Why is this guy asking me questions in the first.

Vic eked out a hesitant shake of the head, reflecting the gesture onto the still pools that were the stranger’s eyes before he brought his eyes down and once again began to eye his bandages with a blank expression.

The man sighed again, fatigued as though he had just aged a few extra years and as he stood up from the chair and even through the haze of disbelief that took hold within him, Vic felt that this guy sighed a lot.

Though Vic’s answer seemed to genuinely sadden the man. Maybe he had answered the wrong way?

This guy sighs a lot…

The man got up and looked around, grabbing a clay pot while he was at it, before he addressed Vic once more “ rest for a bit while I get some food.”

But as he walked out with pot in hand, sighing all the way, Vic heard him murmur, albeit quietly “ Hopefully... If I can actually get a fire started before this blasted rain starts again”.

And then, Vic was there alone, the cold breeze from the ajar door biting at his bear skin. Deliberately, as not to illicit any stabs of pain from his off-white bandages, he slid completely under the pile of animal skins. Lethargy quickly snatched the wakefulness from his scrambling mind letting him drift off, for at least a bit.

...

Too soon however, after what felt like seconds, he felt a rustle fishing him from the depths of blankets and he groggily received a bowl and a wooden spoon as he got up once again. He looked down at his bowl and as stupid as he knew it was, in his feverish mind he thought he saw scales grow at the bottom of his bowl.

That's not a good sign

His stomach turned but as he blinked a few times the phantom disspeared.

“You should eat it now, I know someone with a healing item but you're gonna need some energy to use it”

Vic thought heard something interesting from the guy who’s name he still didn’t know and thus he was already eating.

A healing item… that sounds… good..

Perhaps it was the lack of seasoning or his general state, but as he spooned lukewarm watery vegetable broth into his mouth his tiny appetite certainly didn’t increase. It was bland. He still tried to finish it promptly because you know it was the least he could do when this guy saved him.

this soup is bland alright but you just have to swallow it Victor

And as he poured the last bit of soup into his mouth Vic thanked that at least the it wasn’t heavy on ingredients because, Vic didn’t think he would be able to stomach much more.

Maybe the reason it tasted so bad was becuase it was poisoned?

I might be going into my death or something so I should at least know this guy's name I suppose...

"Oh you're finished, huh, get up then " the guy said as he started to get up but, he was interrupted.

“Uh, what’s your name” Vic finally asked in a subtle voice barely audible above the torrent of the rain that had once again started to smash against the wooden roof of the cabin.

Not thinking for a second the man answered.

"oh yeah, name’s Cuttison”

...