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One foot in front of the other. It’s a simple, repetitive action.
Searching for food, shelter, anything. And yet, nothing can be found. An empty forest Martyn trudges through, no path in sight. A voice in the back of his mind whispers that he’s walking in circles, but the change in terrain says otherwise. Rich dirt and rubble sits on the ground, a small hope that there’s signs of a village— whether that be a good or bad thing —nearby.
With nothing to his name except the clothes he wears, Martyn continues to walk in the random direction he chose days ago.
His ankle throbs with each step, threatening to roll itself and make him fall face first into the dirt. The damned thing won't cooperate. Although it’s.. Manageable.. It still hurts. He can’t run, can’t fight for himself, can’t even chase an animal. They always seem to run out of his grasp, always faster, more witty, like they know Martyn can’t kill animals for shit. Like the wildlife knows that the thought of raw meat, having to butcher animals himself, makes his stomach flip.
The light of day breaks through the trees. The sun’s high in the sky, free of clouds.
His thoughts circle around his first day in these woods.
His father. They were travelling the lands. To return back home would mean days of walking, if not months. It made it worse that he was unaware of where exactly he was. No compass, no directions, only the sun to tell him where the East and the West are.
And even then, it would take days upon days to walk back home if he knew where he was going. He’s lost— There’s no denying it.
It made Martyn bitter. Had his father not noticed? Would he come back for him? Would Martyn even see his father again?
Truthfully, he loved his father. Loved him to death, but..
Now he’s having second thoughts. Was he left in the woods on purpose? Was the travel just a coverup of a plan to leave him out to die?
No. Surely not.
He adjusted the collar around his neck and kept walking forwards. Exhaustion stuck to his bones, each step sluggish, his feet dragging against the ground. His body begs him to take a rest, his blood burning within his skin, his heart pumping sporadically. His stomach cramps up, hunger striking finally him— He’s forced to sit down.
He hasn’t eaten in hours. He misses his usual meals, his fancy dinners. The food served to him on silver plates, the delicacy of having no worries, the bed he slept in with his expensive blankets—
And now? He’s thrown into the wild, forced to survive. Forced to do something he’s never learned, forced to walk miles, forced to fend for himself. He can’t do that. He’s never stepped outside without his father next to him, he never had the experience to be a functional human being without having assistance in reach.
Martyn’s back falls onto the dirt, defeated. He’s tired. His legs strain from overexertion, aching from the little exercise he’s had. His eyes are heavy from the lack of sleep he’s been getting since waking up alone, scared and afraid to find his only ride gone.
Laying back and staring at the leaves above, he sighs. The thought of taking a break whisps into his mind before getting stomped out.
No. He can’t waste daylight.
Martyn pushes himself off the ground, confidence surging in his veins..
Only to fall back on his ass.
He’s a miserable little thing. He’s not made for the wild. Never had the hardship of being stranded in the woods alone. He’s never even been alone before, actually. For his whole life he’s been surrounded by people. People go missing all the time, but not once had he thought that it would one day be him. That one day he’d fall into the grasping hands of darkness, that it would one day claim him. That he would be the face on missing posters.
Tears form in his eyes, but are quickly wiped away with his arm. No. He needs to man up, he can’t be a wuss, that’ll only get him killed.
Martyn’s eyes gravitate towards a bush with bright red berries.
Food.
His hands make quick work of picking the berries off.
The berries are bitter and small. It’s not nearly enough for him. Nothing in this forest is enough to satisfy his hunger. They could’ve been poisonous, but Martyn can’t care less anymore. Either it kills him and saves him from his hopeless trek, or he’s granted yet another day alive, another day to wander an endless forest.
And death suddenly doesn’t seem that bad.
Martyn sits alone, trembling hands empty once again. His stomach and ankle still bother him greatly, but now he has something in his stomach to keep him running for a while longer.
He needs to keep going. He can’t be taken away by death yet. He hasn’t lost all hope. Surely there’s a village beyond the thick trees, surely there’s more life than just the occasional cow or chicken he’s come across.
He picks himself up— his body protesting in every way possible, whether it's making him dizzy or filling his vision with dark blotches —and stands on his two feet.
He needs to keep going. Logically he’ll come across civilization if he walks far enough. His limp won’t stop him. He doesn’t need to hunt, he just needs to keep moving. If people can go without food for weeks, then surely he can too— No matter how much it hurts.
.
Rocks. Branches. Blades of grass. All Martyn passes by without a thought, crunching the dead leaves under his shoes. He’s unaware of the lack of wind. It's deathly quiet. He’s not focused, lost in his own world.
The moment he realized he was left behind, his crushing anxiety made him drop to the floor, clutching his clogged throat, trying to breathe and calm himself. He looked around frantically for his carriage. Looking for his father, for his servants— For anyone. He found nothing but a trail of wagon wheels that slowly faded into the dirt.
He shouted, yelled, screamed— But nobody was around. His father had left him. Surely he must have double checked before he left— there’s no chance that he was purposely abandoned.
That’s what Martyn keeps telling himself. That, surely, his father will remember and come back. That there will be a great search, and once he’s found, there’ll be a grand celebration—
But for now, he’s alone.
He limps onwards.
.
Each step makes Martyn shake. He’s walked for miles, taking frequent breaks to regulate his breath. It feels like he’s losing his mind. His vision’s blurry, gravity is working against his body to tie him down. Determination is the only thing keeping him moving.
There's a path.
Suddenly he has a burst of adrenaline.
Martyn breaks into a sprint.
Just a while longer until he finds something of worth. People, shelter, anything works at this point. He’s so tired of the same thing, over and over. The same trees, the dirt, the rocks— Nature can be beautiful, sure, but living in it alone? Not exactly Martyn’s ideal vacation.
The clearing comes into view. A flat field, tall wooden walls sitting on the ground.
Civilization.
“Oh my gosh,” Martyn cries out. He doesn’t care anymore, his heavy feet running towards the camp.
It seems empty from the outside. A broken village, some parts lit on fire, but still shelter nonetheless. It's a base he can start building up from.
His hope shoots through the roof. He’s finally found people, and even if nobody lives inside the village, he’s found something that resembles what he’s used to— a town. So, maybe, he can get used to it.