Hunted: First Day

Posted on Sunday, 23 August 2020 - 10:53pm by Lieutenant Aristede Hobbes & Crowe

Mission: Operation: Dreamweaver
Location: Somewhere

His eyes opened and just like that, he was awake. Not a lethargic, reluctant return to the world nor a struggle through layered darkness but a sudden and complete sense of awareness. He knew things; admittedly not as much as he'd like, but he knew things. He was in a cave of sorts. Not of sufficient size for him to stretch out to his full length; he knew this only because of the cramps in his muscles. He reached out with one hand and touched rock. Above. Behind. Rock. Below, the ground was softer. Dirt probably but with small stones. He knew this because he could feel each one, individually pressing inward.

To the immediate question, where am I?, no answer came. His mind seemed empty and he wondered as he lay there whether this was a common state for him. And to that as well, there was no answer. Who am I? There was no answer to that as well and a wave of cold fear swept through him. Surely this cannot be normal. An image came to him of the black bird sitting on a low hanging branch. One lone image in the vast emptiness of his memories, his mind. So be it then. I am Crowe until I know differently.

Weak light filtered through the opening, blocked by some sort of a rock, and because that stood between him and a release from the pain he felt, Crowe worked at pushing it aside. Silently, without grunt or groan, he crawled out and, using the nearest rock for leverage, drew himself upward until he was at last standing on his feet. Bare feet decorated with the complicated designs he could barely discern in the fading light. He stood there for a moment, waiting for some bit of information to present itself to him, but again, nothing appeared save a sudden pain in his head, he tried for a moment to locate some nugget, some morsel, anything to begin to explain his situation.

None appeared. And while he wrestled with the impossibility of nothing, he walked slowly to a spot some distance from the cave where he relieved himself. When he was done, he knelt and pushed loose dirt over the spot and then sat back on his heels. It seemed right to do.Just as kneeling seemed a natural position. Sound drifted toward him; he stilled instinctively and moved toward deep shade, climbing up into a large tree, seeking and finally finding a wide branch, shielded from casual observance, where he could watch.

Three individuals, two unlike himself, dressed for the weather, and the third looking much as he did but without the body art. So that is unique to me. The third (prisoner his empty mind supplies) is bruised and bleeding. His ribs protrude and his hands are bound tightly. From his position above, he is certain that if he could see himself, there would be similarities.

One of the well-dressed pair kicked out sharply and the prisoner dropped to his knees, crying out in pain, while the two nodded between them as though they shared a grand joke. They paused almost directly beneath Crowe and spoke in words that were incomprehensible to him. An annoying babble that he ignored while he took the opportunity to study the pair of them. He lay lengthwise on the branch, braced to make a move if it was needed, barely breathing.

After a time, a decision seemed to be reached. One moved on with the prisoner while the second remained, his head moving on a slow swivel, right to left, left to right, for a time, listening to the sounds of the woods. There was a sharp snap followed by a sharp jerk of his head and then he was off, moving quietly in the direction of the sound.

Hunting.

Hunting me?

When quiet returned, Crowe dropped down onto the ground, stumbling a bit as he did so, and crouched there for a moment. The idea of walking away, finding a safer alternative for food and shelter, he eliminated immediately. It felt wrong. That left two paths and the choice wasn't really a choice. He would follow the one with the prisoner and wait for an opportunity.

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Crowe