Woods at night

One day I wake up in the woods, looking up at the stars between the gaps of the leaves.

Panic filled my heart as I am totally an urban dweller who had no chance of survival in the wilderness.

I closed my eyes and give my thighs a squeeze.

Then reluctantly I felt around me, still not opening my eyes. I touched damp soil and protruding roots, some of which is digging into my back. Why haven't I felt the sore before?

Reaching further, I touched something furry unexpectantly and it nabbed my palm.

My eyes burst open as I instinctively withdrew backwards, felling something is tagging at my clothing.

Looking around frantically, my dilated pupils scanned the barely distinguishable trees and bushes around.

Quickly standing up and having my back pinned against a sturdy trunk, I looked for the bitter, but aside from a few shrills howls and the quite murmurs, nothing jumped out at me.

Slowing down my rapid breathing, I lowered mt arms and for the first time realized that I am standing a few meters away from some sort of a white trail, which is clearly visible under the bright moon light beams that slipped through the cracks in the canopies.

This man-made trail makes my chest stood out a little more, at least, I thought to myself, "It must lead somewhere, anywhere is better than here right now."

Then I pushed against the lumpy trunk and set out in a jog down the path, the white stuff is some sort of sand, it crunched beneath my shoes. It feels study and a nice fit for my feet.

What cloth am I wearing? I patted myself up and down.

A leather jacket of sorts and many pockets, most are empty but a small smooth flask.

Taking a whiff of the content, it has to be some sort of strong liquor. A potentially valuable possession, either to wash a wound or drowning out my fears.

I am wearing a pair of cargo pants, though there is no pocket.

No watches or any adornment on my arms, I rubbed at the usual spots of my bracelets and multitool watch longingly. Their absence is giving me a phantom limb feel.

I quickened my pace, listening to everything that is not my ragged breathing. Right now, I am more than glad to have been exercising regularly.

Then I picked up the sounds of running water and the moisture around me seemed to be thickening into a partially formed mist. My skin tinkled in the sudden coolness and I shudder from my perspirations in the oppressing trees.

I pause, unsure if I should proceed. Water means nourishment, which means creatures might come to drink.

I dare not to think about all the predators hidden within bushes awaiting patiently for their evening meals to come.

I smell the air, trying to pick up some hint of foul smell in the air, but all I smell is the overpoweringly refreshing air, something treasured by a denizen of the urban environment.

I moved on, taking each step hesitatingly, then I picked up the pace. I am not going to turn back.

I came across a clearing in the forest, a gentle flowing stream came to a cascade with a meter of falling distance, hence the sound.

There is a small pool of water, a crescent moon reflected in its many waves.

I walked across a wooden bridge with an empty signpost next to it.

On the other side of the bridge there is a low wooden table.

On it is a rifle, and a night vision goggle.

I am just wondering about their significance as several flares were launched into the air and the sound of gun fire erupted all around me.