He crouched down, dropping his pack behind an oak tree, keeping his bow and quiver close to him. The tall grass tickled the back of his ear, and the moisture from the dirt seeped into his pants where the knee pushes the fabric into the ground.

A breeze flowed through the forest trees, carrying the smell of something that he couldn’t quite label. It danced around his nose. For a moment, it seduced him. It overwhelmed his mouth with warm, tasteless fluid. He swallowed, and the knot in his stomach tightened.

“What is this?” his mind was processing.

Strange-shaped rocks that resemble elephants towered over the trees that stood towering over him. There were hundreds of them, they were beautiful. Smooth, reddish-orange stones, with white symbols on their surface, probably hold some type of significance.

“This can't be real. I have to get closer.” The man whispered to himself.

He threw his quiver over his head and shoulder, and following that motion, he nocked an arrow. Likewise, he stepped over the fallen grass and leaves. The further he walked, the closer he became. The elephants grew, standing tall and casting a shadow over the towering oak trees.

“This is incredible” the sound from his voice made him nervous, he listened for any other form of activity. Nothing seemed to tingle his senses. Nothing besides that mystery smell.

He dropped, then forward and into a front roll. Coming up to cover behind an oak tree. The base of the close's elephant let out a loud howl, and along with it came the introduction of a large gust of air. The ocean of grass and leaves moved.

There it was, the source of the sounds, the breeze, the smell. Before him in the smooth, reddish-orange stone, a cut opening. The cavern was dark, jet black. What he could see was darkness with the flashing of a distant fire behind it. The potent smell of wood burning gathered with an obnoxious stench filled his nostrils. This smell called out the inner curiosity and curiosity he felt.

“I’m going to need my pack.” He’s been alone, and in survival mode for so long, that his mind was more of a companion now than a part of him, always keeping his best interest at heart. It was against his survival sense to go in. Then he thought, so live on the edge for once. I don't want to be alone anymore. Maybe I'll find civilized people this time.

He turned and went back toward the tree where he had dropped his equipment. To his surprise, it was gone.

“I know I dropped it here.” His voice returned to a whisper.

The flat patch of grass where the weight he was carrying left behind its imprint.

The hair on the rear of his neck stood as straight as a needle. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. Peripheral vision allowed him to pick anything from the field of view missed. Now he was confident his pack was gone.

He positioned himself with his back to the bark that gravity had been pulling from the trunk of the oak tree. Hands steady and ready to draw back at a moment's notice. Scanning the area carefully. The sense of being watched crept in. The thought of knowing something was taking place but not certain of what it could be tightened his stomach more.

It consumed all of his thoughts. Being as silent as possible with no idea of what was transpiring helped little. He seconded guess the location.

The tree leaves tussled above him, and he heard the note of a small branch cracked. A distinction from the ruffling of the wind, whatever was in those branches knew a thing or two of silence.

His reaction was instant, and he raised the bow upward, pointing it in the area of the noise. A droplet on his forehead formed. He held the arrow, coming closer. Straining to hear movement so that he could determine the angle to send it.

Time seemed slower than normal. In reality, it was an asset. His arms flexed and made ready to release. He could feel his heart in his chest.

The silence was broken, the soft sound of pitter-patter behind him. It progressed like an insult to mock his attempt at finding its source.

“Too slow.” A hiss formed the ridicule ahead of a sudden intake of breath, which was followed by a swift movement to the left of his vision.

He spun around, repositioning his feet and dropping his bow. Replacing it with the cutlass from this belt.

The figure had her cloak covering her face, but with a quick snap of the wrist, she had it off and gave him a pair of blue eyes. “How did you-” he said as a sharp pain in his neck right under his jaw line struck him like a wasp sting. The person before him appeared to be a youthful woman with short brown hair, with a curved blade, she had just revealed out of some hidden sheath.

“We have hit you with a dart that contains curare, paralysis will set in soon. You should not have come here.” The youthful woman’s voice was reluctant.

His torso tensed up. He could not speak, he could not move. He is going to die like this, he thought. Falling to the ground, his body crashed hard and awkwardly.

The youthful woman sheathed her blade before crouching down in front of him, reaching out and closing his eyelids.

We don’t want your eyes to dry out, do we? That wouldn’t be too pleasant.”

Everything went dark. Several thoughts race through his mind. As he heard more pitter-patter. How many were there? He knew his body lifted from the ground. They were carrying him. No dragging him. The breeze grew stronger and the odd smell and burning wood returned. He got chilly. I’m in the cavern. His companion concluded. Then something was wrapped around his limbs. Binding them together. A strap holding his dead arms tight over his head.

He could feel his eyelids pushed open. He gasped at the sight. It was all around him. They had carved out the cavern interior. It was an entire civilization. The cave stretched for miles, it seemed. Houses and markets. Temples and taverns. Businesses and guild halls. It was all true. Everything he had been told was all accurate. The dwellers existed.

He was being held up by straps attached to some oak post that was installed in this way for no other reason but to keep prisoners. They were in some kind of camp outside the city itself. Maybe an outpost? His mind attempted to gather pieces of the puzzle.

The young woman had returned her cloak.

“You’ve found us. I’m uncertain if you just stumble upon us or if you sought us out. Either way. The outcome is the same.” She paused as she looked out.

“Your tale does not have a happy ending” the sentence fell from her mouth as she disappeared out of view, unaffected.

He thought about the family he once had. All his old friends and how beautiful the world used to be.

A fire flickered a few yards in front of them. Something was roasting over the red-hot coals. “Was this the fire that was flashing at the entrance?” Once again, his mind snatched a puzzle piece.

The smell was no longer tainted by the forest. He knew what it was now.

He could see a human being spit roasted in the fire. The meat sizzled and bubbled. The vague recollection of a camp he slipped around occupied with bandits roasting extremities they gathered from an onslaught flashed before his eyes. It had been ages since he had seen this, but the initial impressions of dread and revolt came out as if the feelings had never disappeared.

He laughed peering out at the dwellers living their lives. "I guess I'm not alone anymore." A glance back at the fire. "Finally."