Rain and darkness—my least favorite combination. Fine on their own, just not together.
It was a moonless night, and it had been drizzling all afternoon. What began as a light drizzle was quickly turning into a more serious situation. We had been walking all day, trying to find our way back. Being lost for almost three days was beginning to look more and more like a real catastrophe, but Vex and I shrugged it off and kept going deeper into the forest. Finding our way home mattered more than comfort, and hunger was beginning to claw at us. The provisions I had packed for what was meant to be a simple foraging outing had run out the night before, and finding food was no longer optional.
As we approached what looked like a clearing, the scenery shifted to reveal fewer trees, more bushes. Scanning the area with a twinkle of hope, there they were: berry bushes. Familiar, yet not quite the same as the ones I had known all my life. Every forest dweller knows the rule: never eat unknown berries. So we did what I had been taught.
We waited.
An hour passed. Watching bushes slowly became a form of torture, but patience is the price for survival. Just as my resolve began to crack and moving on was looking to be the next step, a small family of rabbits—or something very much like rabbits—emerged from the grass and began to nibble on the berries.
Relief washed over me. At least they were safe enough to touch.
As I approached the small orange circles of salvation, something felt… strange. The rabbits, they were a bit odd yet familiar to me. My heart skipped, and I froze mid-step. All interest in eating just disappeared in an instant.
Their eyes.
They were the same as Vex’s.
At first glance, they appeared completely white, as if devoid of sight. But looking closer, you could see the structure was there—just pale, luminous. Vex noticed my sudden stop and turned his head, staring now at me with those same eyes, head tilted in question.
When I looked again, the rabbits had already fled, startled by our presence.
Maybe I imagined it. Or maybe that was what almost two days without food does to the mind. The provisions had run out the night before when I gave the last ration to Vex. I wouldn’t let my buddy go hungry.
Focus. Get it together. You have work to do.
Finding the berries was a stroke of luck, but eating them required care. You simply can’t eat something unknown off the vine. First wildlife interaction—does anything eat it, and how does that animal look, is it brightly colored, does it look like it will kill you… Then the skin test. Break the berry, smear the pulp on a small patch of skin. If it passes, you eat one. Then you wait.
Always in moderation.
After what felt like an eternity with no adverse reactions, we each ate a small handful—just enough to keep going.
“All right, Vex. This is as good as it’s going to get for now. Dig in.”
The berries tasted like heaven—sweet and tart, perfectly balanced. If I weren’t so weary, I might’ve eaten a whole bucket. But caution won.
“I know you want more,” I told him, “but we need to be careful. And we should save some. We don’t know when we’ll find food again.”
We gathered what we could without over-picking. Balance is respect, and respect means survival.
I laughed softly at myself as I packed them away. I’d always had a habit of over-preparing. My traveling satchel held a knife, a mending kit, emergency medicine for poison and cuts, a small water flask and bowl for Vex, some specimen collecting pouches and tins, as well as my journal where I recorded my findings and notes. But the most precious item, at least at that moment, was my Lampas Everlight, casting a steady glow through the rain-soaked dark.
Walking in an unknown forest in the night was not ideal, and now that we had secured some food, the next priority became clear: shelter.
The ground grew rocky, larger formations rising around us.
“Maybe we can find some cover, rest a bit,” I said. He nodded in agreement. It seemed silly to others how I talked to my foxel companion like he could understand me. But I knew he could. I had learned this many years ago.
We walked towards the rocks, which grew in size and number with each step. I knew we were in the right direction. In no time I spotted what looked like a cave, upon entering, learning it was really a cove, good enough to get us out of the rain. The wind had picked up and lightning had begun to strike. “This will do,” I said as we rushed towards it. Once inside, we collapsed to the floor, tired from all the walking.
Relief hit harder than exhaustion, but rest had to wait.
Setting up our little cove had to come first.
We needed a fire, and fast. Another stroke of luck presented before us. Pieces of dry wood lay scattered on the floor, at least enough of them to make it last the night.
The growing warmth and dancing glow started to do its job.
All the tension that had kept me sharp seemed to leave my body. I began to feel tired, wanting nothing else but sleep.
The rain had turned into a raging storm. Wind pushed harder, lightning striking more frequently. Vex huddled close to me. He hated lightning more than baths, and he hated those plenty.
“Don’t worry buddy, I got you.”
Settling in was easier than breathing. After nearly three days lost and walking in the wild, tired was an understatement, but going to sleep right away was not a good idea.
“You go ahead, sleep. I’ll take a turn in the morning when it’s safer. It looks like we will be here for a while anyway.”
He flopped his head on my lap, letting out a big worry sigh. It did not take him long to fall asleep. I felt his head relax, his breathing deep and soft.
The storm grew fierce, thunder shaking the earth. A new worry crept in—flooding. The cove seemed safe, water flowing away from us, but land is unpredictable. I stared at the entrance, fighting my eyes to stay open.
Lightning and thunder were jolting me awake every time I started to doze off. The deafening sounds made Vex jolt awake in a fright. He looked around as if the whole thing was happening inside the cove.
“It’s ok. I got you. It’s ok.” I repeated over and over until I felt him relax a little into my side. “It’s just lightning, we are safe in here.”
Just as I had finished saying those words, the sky let out another deafening explosion. A flash so bright it turned night into day. We both flinched.
In that instant we saw it race towards us. A blur of golden soaked fur rushed towards us like its life depended on it.
I tried to stand and shield Vex, but no sooner I had one leg up, the ball of gold had tumbled into us with such force that we all fumbled back on our backs.
A small figure stood shaking before us—a ferret-like creature, nearly the size of an otter, drenched and trembling. Then it collapsed.
Vex, still alert, stood on guard until he realized it wasn’t a threat. I scooped him up in my dry mantle and carried it closer to the fire. Its eyes fluttered open briefly before melting into the warmth and fell asleep.
“This adventure keeps getting stranger by the day.” I muttered.
Vex agreed, wide-eyed.
I held the little ball of gold tight and whispered, “You’re safe now.” It stirred once, then fell asleep in my arms.
The storm raged outside our little sanctuary. Vex nudged his head on my lap and fell asleep quickly. With the fire crackling low and the sound of rain falling, exhaustion finally claimed me too.
