Evolution: Harbinger of Chaos

Daniel's legs gave way, and he crumpled to the ground, his body folding awkwardly against a nearby tree trunk.

He gasped for air, his chest heaving, each breath burning his lungs. His legs, especially his ankles, screamed with pain, and his body felt as though it might give out entirely if he moved another step.

Daniel eased against the rough bark, letting its ridges dig into his back. The forest spun around him, the unrelenting silence gnawing at his ears.

It was too quiet.

The absence of sound made the forest feel suffocating, as though it pressed down on him, demanding his submission.

It reminded him of earlier—before he'd seen the reindeer again. The forest had been just as quiet then. No birds, no distant rustles in the underbrush, nothing but his own labored footsteps and the occasional crunch of leaves.

Then, out of nowhere, it had appeared.

How?

Daniel's hands clenched into trembling fists. His thoughts raced in disjointed fragments. Where had it come from? Why hadn't he heard it approaching? And the most horrifying question of all: why had it attacked him so mercilessly?

It wasn't an animal. Not a normal one, anyway.

"The driver was right," Daniel muttered, his voice barely a whisper. "That thing isn't a reindeer."

The memory of its glowing, red eyes burned in his mind, sending a chill down his spine.

Daniel winced as a sharp sting pulled him from his spiraling thoughts.

His gaze dropped to his right hand, which throbbed with each beat of his heart.

The entire hand was swollen, the skin pale and stretched taut. His fingernails had turned a faint shade of purple.

Daniel hesitated before turning it over, dreading what he might see.

The gash on his palm was jagged and deep, cutting from the soft flesh beneath his thumb to the base of his little finger. Blood, now clotted and mixed with dirt, gave the wound a grotesque, blackened appearance.

"God…" Daniel whispered, swallowing the bile rising in his throat.

He flexed his fingers experimentally. Pain shot up his arm, sharp and searing.

Daniel bit down on his lip, tasting blood, and lowered his hand.

The wound was bad—bad enough to need urgent treatment. But there was nothing he could do. No supplies, no medical aid, and no one to help him.

You're alone.

The thought sent a pang of despair through his chest.

His stomach growled, loud and insistent. He hadn't eaten since the field trip began, and even his sips of water from the bottle in his bag hadn't been enough to stave off his growing thirst.

Daniel shook his head, trying to push the hunger to the back of his mind.

"I can't stay here," he muttered, forcing himself to his feet.

His legs wobbled beneath him, but he steadied himself against the tree. Every muscle ached, and his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. Still, he moved forward, one slow step at a time.

~~~

Daniel moved cautiously, each step deliberate. The forest seemed to watch him, its shadows shifting and twisting as though alive.

The silence was maddening.

Every so often, he heard faint rustles in the distance. Each sound made his heart race, and his eyes darted to the source, but he saw nothing. Just trees.

The trees.

They towered above him, their gnarled branches forming a thick canopy that blocked most of the sunlight. Their roots jutted out of the ground like skeletal fingers, forcing Daniel to navigate around them carefully.

"Why is it so quiet?" he whispered. His voice sounded foreign to him, thin and weak.

A leaf landed on his shoulder.

Daniel yelped, spinning around and flailing his arms. His foot caught on a root, and he tumbled backward, landing hard on the ground.

Pain flared in his already sore limbs, but he barely noticed. His eyes darted around the forest, his breath coming in rapid gasps.

Nothing.

Daniel swallowed hard, his throat dry. Slowly, he pushed himself to his knees and picked up a sturdy twig from the ground. He held it in front of him like a makeshift weapon, his hands trembling.

The forest remained still.

Daniel exhaled shakily, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. He stood, still clutching the twig, and took a cautious step forward.

And then he froze.

Just a few feet away, lying on the ground amidst a scattering of items, was a backpack.

Daniel's breath caught in his throat. His grip on the twig slackened, and it fell from his fingers.

"No…"

He staggered forward, his legs feeling like lead.

"It's mine…" he whispered, his voice trembling.

He dropped to his knees beside the bag, his hands shaking as he reached out to touch it. It was unmistakably his. The contents—snacks, books, a map, and other familiar items—were scattered around it just as he'd packed them.

Daniel's vision swam, his mind reeling.

"This isn't possible," he muttered, his voice rising. "This isn't possible!"

He backed away from the bag, his head shaking in disbelief. "I've been running… I've been running straight!"

He pressed his back against a tree, his breaths shallow and panicked.

The reindeer had attacked him here. It had knocked the bag from his hands when it caught his shirt with its antlers.

Was he going in circles? Had he somehow doubled back to where he started?

But then why wasn't there any evidence of the reindeer's rampage? The ground was undisturbed. There were no signs of the struggle—the overturned earth, the snapped branches, the marks left by its massive hooves.

It was as if the attack had never happened.

"No…" Daniel whispered, his voice shaking.

Two possibilities came to mind, and neither offered comfort.

The first: the reindeer had brought the bag here.

The second: someone else had.

Daniel's heart raced as he stared at the bag.

If someone else had brought it here…

His mind conjured images of shadowy figures lurking in the trees, watching him. His breath hitched as he scanned the forest, his eyes darting from shadow to shadow.

A twig snapped in the distance.

Daniel froze, every muscle in his body tensing. He strained his ears, but the forest fell silent once more.

He licked his dry lips, his throat feeling tighter with every passing second.

"If I wait here…" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'll find out."

Slowly, Daniel eased himself down beside the tree, his body trembling as he sat. His eyes never left the surrounding forest.

He clutched his knees to his chest, his injured hand resting gingerly on top.

He would wait.