Cervia's Log - 10 Achiel, 1 AoC
A technical primitive
L
ast night was one of the most nerve wracking events of my life. No sooner had darkness fallen than the entire forest erupted in a continual cacophony of squawks, chirps, clacks, buzzes, and roars. Yes - roars. It seemed as though the entire rain forest was screaming directly at me. I was only about 15 meters inside the transition where the forest meets the beach, but it felt like I was 100 km into the middle of a evil wood in an epic fantasy novel.
Dark things flitted beside me. Birds with bioluminescent feathers or beaks soared above me. Mischievous creatures from high in the branches above dropped things upon me. And yes, when I say "things", I'm including "shit". Long scaly creatures slithered up around me - apparently sharing my appreciation for the relative-protection of the mighty tree's roots.
I endured the slumber of a ground-pounder in the midst of a long infantry offensive. I was too fatigued to avoid sleep altogether. But I was too wary to simply sit back and lose all sense of space and time. Even when I was "asleep", I was still strangely positioned in the land of the conscious. The land of the aware. There was no sound or movement in my immediate vicinity that did not somehow intrude upon my unconscious mind. And there was no moment when there wasn't at least some sound, or some movement, in my immediate vicinity.
And when I did wake up and try to peer into the darkness around me, I was unprepared for the true nature of the darkness itself. This wasn't night. This was black. The sky was a shattered inkwell. The ocean - that I could still hear so well from my arboreal nook - offered nothing but ebony waves frothing over even-darker sands. Even from my vantage point inside the edge of this dense forest, I could see that there was no moon in the heavens. Then again, I have no idea if this planet even has a moon?
But even without satellites, I was unprepared for the inky void of what little night sky that I could glimpse through the treetops. No light pollution. No soft glow of distant cities. No campfires shattering the visual acuity of the beach. Just... night.
When daylight finally came, I was mildly surprised to feel that I'd "made it". But I was immediately faced with a choice. Where to go? I walked back out to the beach and scanned as far as I could in both directions. Nothing. No signs of civilization. No signs of any random population.
I walked to the water's edge and turned back to survey the overall landmass as best I could. Up the beach, about a half click or so, it looked like a bay may be forming from the mouth of a river. River's lead inland. To interiors. Maybe even... to cities? I looked back at the landmass and observed that it did rise. Slowly. Ponderously. But nevertheless, it did indicate elevation. And from elevation, I might find vantage points. Opportunities to survey greater distances and get a better sense of where, exactly, I should be heading.
But I also realized that I have no shoes. Just walking a few scant meters into the forest's edge last night led to many "owws" and "ahhs" as I stepped onto branches, seeds, thorns, and who-knows-what-else. I can't imagine making an inland journey right now in my flimsy undergarment onesie - and barefoot. So I'm making the decision to follow the coastline for a while. Sand is more amenable to bare feet. And the shore may provide some scavenging opportunities because I'll be getting very hungry. Very soon.
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