Time passed with the pace of a snail. Exhaustion and pain were almost always prominent in some part of obakes body. His legs were sore and bruised from crawling over rough tree roots and stones in an attempt to find shelter or food. Hunger plagued his body from days on end without proper food. Dehydration was only avoided by occasional rain and a small pond obake had settled himself nearby. Despite the generally young age Obake had managed to wash off some of the blood that had previously covered his face. The intention was good but the outcome was not nearly so. Infection spread rampid in the cuts, and what little vision had still remained in his left eye was quickly demolished.
Obake had never been taught the difference between right and wrong. And now without his ability to see and the slowly dying infections desperation had truly set in. Despite the unknown territory it seemed fairly well traversed for being so deep in the woods, and Obake very quickly got used to having people wandering into the small area he had claimed as home. It wasn't much. A small pond in the center surrounded by short trees, and stumps that could be easily navigated. Each small thump near the water had a carving on it that had been created by the scratching of nails against wood. A pattern. A certain set of thick or thin scratch marks he used to locate items. He didn't have much but it helped to locate his rock with a dip deep enough to hold a little water and the tree he knew had at least somewhat edible fruit.
Traveling outside of the small area obake had memorized the terrain of was terrifying. He didn't know where trees large enough to block the rain were or where roots large enough to trip him laid. The trip outside of his small area needed to be made nonetheless every once and a while or when he often got lost. He had only been in the forest a short week and every howl from wolves or chirps from birds sent him uselessly looking around and squeaking.
It was easy to get lost in a large forest as a small child. The wandering was practically useless but food was sparse in the area he resided in temporarily and the growing pain in his stomach was only overpowered by the stinging in his face. Tripping over rocks and tumbling against trees stung his sides and knees with each fall. Twigs snapping nearly made him fall even when they came from his own feet hitting against the ground.
Hearing others chatter is what terrified him the most. Small whispers and loud talking from others in the forest. Most of them were campers from what he could guess with the harsh smell of smoke and grilling food. Sometimes it was difficult to tell the difference between campers and wild animals approaching. The only difference was the howling and chitter of an animal's speech.
A strange feeling plagued Obake so often that he had mostly gotten used to it. An animalistic feeling that led to the urges to hunt or climb into trees didn't know there were mere seconds before. On one of the many trips out of his small section of forest in an attempt to find an abandoned campsite, campers often forget items when they leave such as canned goods or even articles of clothing on lucky days. The clothing Obake originally wore had been torn to shreds on his first few nights in the woods.
Obake was now adorned with a bright blue and heavily oversized long sleeve and loose shorts he had taken in hopes to conquer the summer heat. A few sets of similar clothing laid on one of the stumps in the place he claimed as home although altered in various sizes and types. A bright yellow rain jacket was the only jacket he had been able to steal and he nearly never removed it in fear of it being taken. Shoes were never top priority and instead it was taken advantage of the ability to feel the terrain under him.
The trips obake hated so much were necessary in his attempted hunt for new items such as the small and oddly shaped rectangle toy he kept in his pocket. It had four little circles that spun when you rolled over them. He hoped to find more items like this and the little rectangles and squares he occasionally found with little nubs and holes that clicked into each other and made cute shapes. They entertained Obake when the weather was too poor for the child to go outside and up the larger and burly trees for a seat.
The first night of his trips were always the hardest. He had a rough idea of different directions from his little home and he kept in mind the turns he took to eventually get back. The sound of campsites always startled him a bit but it had been at least a miles worth of walking without any sound yet and by the cooling of the air around him it was obvious night was slowly approaching. Despite what he assumed was a month in the forest he hadn't had any encounters yet with wolves or cougars. Maybe the assumption of cougars was overdramatic, moose or bear was more likely.
Slowly crouching down to the ground, Obake put his hands in front of him to feel the roots near his feet. He hated wandering at night even if he couldn't tell the difference in light. Sitting down was tentative and slow to avoid sitting on a sharp stick or rock but eventually he was settled down. Slightly tanned hands, covered in dirt and caked with mud. small scrapes climbed up his arms but they were hardly noticed as the boy took his hands to run them through golden blonde hair that now appeared brown with twigs and dirt.
Exhaustion hadn't affected obake nearly as heavily as time passed out in the forest. Each day seemed slightly easier than the last. More so as the cuts crossing over his eyes slowly scabbed over and healed bit by bit, infection dying off as the slices healed. Obake finally allowed the exhaustion that had been tugging at him to finally take over and he laid his head onto a nearby pile of moss. His body was situated in a strange 's' shape to avoid uncomfortable roots along the ground but it didn't bother him. It was easy not to be bothered when the conditions of a forest were moderately better than even your home.
The air around Obake got colder as the minutes passed. Time felt quick but obake knew it was far longer than it seemed without the ability to see the sun set or rise. Sleep came quickly and easily after the walk of the day. He never made it far in a days travels but every inch that didn't lead to a detour or fall was a success enough to please the boy. Sound sleeping rarely occurred but it happened more regularly as days passed. The sound of cracking sticks still woke him, startled each time. The oh so often occurrence of breaking sticks woke him once again but this time it came with the putrid smell and humid temperature of breath.
That fucking moose.
Or at least what could be assumed to be a moose. The breathe was near inches from Obake's face. Hot, humid, putrid. Reaction time was slow, who expects to wake up to a putrid smell that you cant see the source of? Terror filled obakes body, the scent filling up his lungs to a near suffocating point. The shock finally passed after mere seconds and soon the boy was reeling back into a tree.
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