The things I can see are minimal. My eyes see less and less as the moon hides behind the clouds. My heart stays firm but I can feel the adrenaline rush through my veins. The sword in my hand is said to have slain armies, my beliefs differ but it does sound cool. Camping in the middle of a forest without a horse, with just some beef and rum, seemed like a fantastic idea, at least when I was drunk.
Travelers had suggested traveling was a mind healer. They forgot to mention the physical harm it brought with itself. The climbs and falls made me think of my passing age. Swimming has made me regret skipping the daily exercise and this empty bottle of rum about being penniless. My clothes have seen much worse than mine. The amount they are left on me tells how much this journey has abused them. It is on me for believing in the words of some drunkard, who I met in some random tavern.
It leaves a bad taste in my mouth thinking about the last mushroom I ate. Let me tell you it really looked okay to eat, quite appetizing actually. Though after hallucinating for half a day and falling off a small cliff, crashing in about thousands of thorny bushes and a tree, I can't help but dissuade myself that it might have been a stupid move on my part. My favorite furry coat now looks more like a beggar's shawl and my hands have become rougher than when I used to practice swordsmanship. The situation at hand looks much more interesting.
The air feels eerie, my hands are getting cold. I can feel the cold winter wind brushing against my beard and nose. There is a vague silence. What I mean to say is that it is silent and calm as it can be, but something feels unnatural. The smoke rising from the little fire I built after I recovered from hallucinating, reached above the tree canopies and I heard howls, one after another. I had been surrounded, the howls had told me that much. At a distance, I heard something again but this time it was a roar. The situation could become better if the wolves decided to retreat due to the presence of another predator.
I had thought wrong they were coming for me. I needed to hold my ground. I stood against one thick tree. Yes, I was playing defense. In front of me from the dark depth of the forest, I saw snarling canines reaching toward me. The bloodthirst in the eyes of those five wolves was no joke. I could feel a little shiver run down my knees. I was not going to go down without taking at least three of them with me. I put on a fierce look on my face. Was my situation dire? Definitely. Was I going to die? Maybe. Was I shaking in fear? Never. I had a fire burning within and it was driving my spirit high. My warrior blood was boiling, I had felt this once when I fought on the frontlines in the hundred-year war. This nerve-racking feeling was driving me nuts.
To hell with defense. I charged at them swinging my cool practice sword. The lead wolf lunged at him, its jaws wide open. I sidestepped and swung my sword, cutting deep into the wolf's shoulder. The animal let out a pained howl and retreated in agony, but the rest of the pack was already upon me.
I fought with all my might, the sword flashing in the moonlight. I swung and parried, cutting into the wolves' flesh with some precision and luck. But the wolves were fierce, and they were not going down easily. One of the wolves managed to bite my right arm, causing the sword to fall. I quickly drew the knife from my belt and stabbed the wolf repeatedly in the throat, killing it instantly. Picking up the sword I continued to fight.
The fight was as intense as it was brutal, Both the wolves and I were locked in a desperate struggle for survival. I knew my injuries would not let me continue this battle of attrition. A man on nearly empty stomach, except a deviled mushroom, with such injuries could not hold for long. Three wolves remained and one me, the balance was still off but still better. They charged head first at me. I threw my fur coat at one, ducked as one pounced, slashed its belly while sliding to the third and punching it head. I don't know how that helped but I did it anyway. As it growled at me I charged with my sword right through its skull. The last wolf freed itself of the coat, seeing its pack all dead it let out a fierce growl. It came right at me with its gnarly teeth. I Parried then it slashed its fangs right at my face, but giving it to my luck it nearly missed. I jumped back trying to create some distance. This whole thing lasted nearly forever. In the end, as I stood in all that blood and bruises, I felt alive. The five wolves lay dead at my feet, lifeless and still.
A sigh of relief escaped my mouth as I stood there panting. My body was aching and my mind was racing. I knew it was not going to be easy, but I was prepared for the worst. I lifted the sword and cleaned the blood off it as I looked at the sky, feeling victorious.