Screams in the Forest

Shen dangled for a heart-stopping moment, suspended in the grip of the vines. Their surprising elasticity had been his salvation, absorbing the momentum that would have otherwise resulted in a much harsher, bone-shattering fall. He struggled against their grasp, writhing and twisting like a snared animal until he finally broke free, landing with a solid thud on the damp forest floor. As he brushed the clinging leaves and dirt from his body, a peculiar detail caught his eye—his clothing had changed. The garments were unfamiliar, yet their design was simple and practical, causing him neither discomfort nor immediate alarm.

His first and only priority was survival. Trapped in the oppressive darkness of an unknown forest, Shen knew he had to focus on the essentials. A primal part of him yearned to build a fire, a beacon of warmth and light to hold back the night until dawn. But the eerie, unseen sounds that slithered through the trees kept him rooted in a state of high alert. Every rustle of leaves, every sharp crack of a twig under some unseen weight, amplified the forest’s sinister atmosphere. Deciding against the risk of drawing unwanted attention, Shen resolved to move, to press forward through the gloom in the hope of finding safety—or at the very least, another living soul.

The forest was a cacophony of unsettling noises. The mournful howling of wolves echoed from a distant hill, a chilling song carried on a biting wind that sank its teeth deep into his bones. He rubbed his hands together, a futile attempt to generate some warmth against the encroaching cold. A burning thirst clawed at his throat, a raw discomfort he hoped to finally remedy when he stumbled upon a narrow river, its surface glistening like a silver ribbon in the faint moonlight.

Cautiously, Shen approached the bank and crouched to drink. He froze. Downstream, the colossal silhouette of a bear blotted out the moonlight on the water's surface. The beast, easily eight times his weight, was drinking lazily, seemingly oblivious to his presence. Shen had never seen a bear outside of a book, and his heart hammered against his ribs like a war drum as he watched it, terrified of making even the slightest sound. Seizing the opportunity while the formidable creature was distracted, he turned and bolted back into the relative safety of the trees.

Shen ran without a single glance back, his mind painting vivid, terrifying images of the bear crashing through the undergrowth in hot pursuit. His focus was so consumed by the imaginary threat behind him that he failed to see the steep incline ahead. His foot caught, and he tumbled downward, his body colliding violently with the rough ground, rocks, and roots until he finally skidded to a halt at the bottom. He let out a low groan, every muscle screaming in protest, but the sound died in his throat when he saw what lay before him.

Through a gap between two enormous, ancient trees, the warm glow of a large fire pulsed against the darkness. The flames licked high into the air, their radiant heat a tempting promise against the chilly night. A fire of that size could only mean one thing—people. Shen’s heart raced, caught between a surge of exhilarating hope and a deep, gut-wrenching apprehension. The prospect of seeing another human was a relief beyond words, but something about the scene felt deeply, fundamentally wrong.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, he forced himself to his feet and began to move cautiously toward the light. The closer he got, the stronger his anticipation grew, a desperate hope for rescue welling up inside him. His mouth opened, the word "Hello!" already forming on his lips, but before he could utter a sound, a bloodcurdling scream shattered the forest's stillness. Instinct took over. Shen threw himself behind the broad trunk of a tree, his mind screaming at him to observe before acting.

What he saw sent a tremor of pure ice down his spine. Gathered around the roaring fire was a group of people, their faces contorted into masks of savage cruelty. They were mercilessly butchering other humans—bound and helpless captives whose agonized screams pierced the night. To Shen’s absolute horror, the killers then tossed the dismembered limbs into the fire, pulling them out moments later to consume the scorched flesh.

The gruesome, macabre feast left him paralyzed. Cannibals. He realized with a sickening lurch in his stomach that they were far too numerous for him to confront or outwit. His only option was to retreat. He began to step backward, placing each foot with painstaking care. But it was no use. His heel caught on something thin and taut—a hidden snare. A rope instantly tightened around his ankle, yanking him violently off the ground and leaving him dangling upside-down, swinging helplessly like a pendulum.

Panic, cold and sharp, flooded his senses as the cannibals' heads snapped in his direction. One of them let out a guttural shout, alerting the others to the new prey that had stumbled into their web. As he swayed, Shen’s frantic eyes locked onto a knife lodged in the trunk of a nearby tree. He began to swing himself, using his momentum to build an arc. With each pass, he stretched his arm out, his straining fingers just brushing against the wooden hilt. The cannibals were closing in, their hungry, predatory eyes fixed on him.

Summoning every last ounce of his strength, Shen made one final, desperate swing, his fingers closing around the knife's handle. He pulled. It resisted, embedded deep in the wood, but the primal urge to survive pushed him beyond his limits. With a final, agonizing tug, he wrenched it free just as the first cannibal lunged. Acting on pure instinct, Shen plunged the blade into the attacker’s skull.

The cannibal crumpled to the ground, lifeless. Wasting no time, Shen frantically sawed at the rope around his ankle.

He landed unsteadily on his feet, the bloodied knife clutched in his hand. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, and his mind screamed, refusing to process what he had just done. The realization dawned slowly, horribly—he had killed someone.

The sight of dark blood dripping from the blade blurred as his hand began to tremble uncontrollably. They would’ve killed me, he thought, a desperate attempt to justify the act, to steady the storm raging within him. Yet, another thought immediately followed, cold and insidious: What if he had no choice either?

Shen’s legs buckled, his knees hitting the forest floor with a dull thud. His breathing grew shallow and rapid, adrenaline and horror coursing through his veins. His entire body quaked as his mind replayed the moment: the sickening weight of the knife sinking in, the wet crunch of bone.

A voice from his past echoed in his mind, unbidden but unrelenting. "Whom can you blame for their actions when it helps them live?"

Shen pressed a hand to his forehead, his skin drenched in a cold sweat despite the frigid night air. His survival instincts had taken over, but now, his humanity was returning with a vengeance, forcing him to confront the crushing gravity of his choice.

Did I even have a choice?

His fingers curled tighter around the knife's hilt, the faint warmth of blood still clinging to it. The image of the cannibal's vacant, lifeless eyes burned itself into his memory, forcing another, more terrifying thought to the surface: What if I was wrong?

The sound of the remaining cannibals roaring in anger jolted him back to the terrifying present. He forced himself to stand, his legs trembling beneath him. This wasn't over.

The chase was relentless. Shen pushed his body to its absolute limit, his lungs burning for air and his legs screaming for rest. The cannibals' furious cries seemed to stir others from the darkness, swelling their numbers as he ran. Soon, arrows tipped with fire began to whiz past his head, their flames leaving incandescent trails in the night. He raised his arms defensively as he sprinted, the intense heat brushing against his skin.

He knew he couldn't keep this up. He was running on fumes. He needed a plan, a way to outmaneuver his pursuers. Just as despair began to cloud his mind, he spotted a narrow crevice between two massive boulders. It looked impossibly tight, but it might just buy him the time he needed. Without a second's hesitation, Shen forced himself into the gap. The jagged rocks scraped and tore at his back and sides, but he ignored the pain and pushed through, finally emerging on the other side. He gasped for air, allowing himself a fleeting moment of relief—until he saw a flicker of movement in the nearby bushes. His heart sank like a stone.

A cannibal lunged from the undergrowth, tackling Shen with brutal force. The two tumbled down yet another steep slope, a chaotic tangle of limbs rolling and crashing into the dirt below. When they finally came to a stop, Shen found himself on top of his attacker. The knife, still in his hand, had been damaged in his fall from the trap. During their tumble, the weakened blade had lodged itself deep in the cannibal’s chest. Shen instinctively pulled it free, but the blade snapped, leaving him holding a useless handle. Tossing it aside, he scrambled to his feet.

Ahead, a rickety wooden bridge stretched across a chasm so deep it seemed bottomless. With the sounds of the approaching horde driving him forward, Shen ran for it. The moment his foot touched the bridge, he knew how precarious it was. The old planks creaked ominously, and the frayed ropes supporting the structure swayed violently with every step.

The cannibals reached the edge of the chasm but hesitated, shouting angrily among themselves. Rather than risk the bridge, they opted for a crueler strategy. Shen’s heart dropped as he watched them draw their blades and begin hacking at the thick support ropes. With each vicious slice, the bridge groaned in protest, the tension snapping strand by strand.

Just as Shen neared the opposite side, the last of the ropes gave way. The bridge collapsed, sending him plummeting into the abyss. Acting on pure, desperate instinct, he lunged for a loose plank, his fingers closing around the splintered wood just as it slammed against the cliffside. The bridge now hung vertically, a crude and treacherous ladder against the rock face.

Climbing with a desperation he had never known, Shen made slow, agonizing progress. His hands burned from the strain, and his muscles trembled with exhaustion. Then, without warning, a searing pain exploded in his back. He gasped, a strangled cry escaping his lips as he realized he’d been struck by an arrow. His grip faltered. Poison, swift and potent, coursed through him, and his vision blurred at the edges. The world spun into a dizzying vortex, and his strength finally failed him. He began to fall.

But just as he was about to plunge into the eternal darkness below, a hand shot out from the cliff's edge, grabbing him by the arm with an iron grip. Shen dangled helplessly, his consciousness fading as he looked up to see the face of the mysterious figure who had just saved his life.