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墨書 Inktalez
I prayed that the firelight would guide Jack in our direction, allowing him to find us. I simply didn't have the strength to go out and search for him anymore; everything would have to wait until dawn. The process of drying clothes was torturous, and my eyelids began to droop involuntarily. My body couldn't stay still, swaying dangerously as I fought to remain upright. Before long, the two Lao People had slumped over on the Rain Cover and fallen asleep.
With them irresponsibly asleep, I had to keep myself awake. I put on the half-dried pants and shoes, giving my cheeks a firm slap. My alertness lasted only a moment; sitting by the fire, I would inevitably doze off. I got up and started walking around the fire pit; it was the only way to keep myself from falling asleep.
In truth, this was quite a struggle. I stumbled as I walked, my brain feeling somewhat numb. The fire began to dim gradually, primarily because there was too little Firewood that could withstand burning. Most of what Buasong had collected was dry grass, which burned quickly to ash. To prevent the fire from going out and to keep myself occupied so I wouldn't fall asleep while moving around, I picked up the Machete and started cutting the surrounding weeds. Whether it was green grass or dried-up stalks, I tossed everything onto the fire. Although the flames didn't extinguish, they failed to rise significantly, and parts of Wet Grass smothered it, producing thick black smoke.
After a while of circling the fire and cutting grass, I had cleared a patch around it. At this point, the flames were completely suppressed by the grass, with very few Flames leaping out from the pile; instead, large plumes of black smoke billowed outward. The smoke choked me so much that I had to bend over and escape from the fire pit. The two sleeping Lao People were safe enough; everyone knew that smoke rises, especially in this humid environment where lying on the ground would keep them from being affected.
I ran all the way to the water's edge, where there was nowhere else to go. Standing up still made me cough from the Thick Smoke, so I squatted by the water's edge and waited for it to dissipate. Squatting down helped a lot; although it still irritated my throat somewhat, it was within tolerable limits. Meanwhile, after some time cutting grass—especially after being exposed to smoke—I found myself feeling less drowsy and my mind clearer.
At that moment, I suddenly noticed that my surroundings had become clearer. While cutting grass around the fire pit earlier, I hadn't used any lighting equipment; I had relied entirely on the glow from the fire for illumination. In my crouched rush to get here, I hadn't paid attention to this detail. Now that I was still, I could see the grass around me quite clearly; it seemed that this smoke had cleared away some of the mist. Now I could see the fire pit through the grass and noticed the two Lao People sleeping beside it. Although everything remained dark, it was within normal visibility range. Occasionally flickering Flames illuminated thick smoke still billowing outward.
The Pavement was also visible; Thick Smoke not only dispersed the mist over this dry land but also cleared a significant area of fog from the surrounding marshland. The ripples on the Pavement lapped against the shore beneath my feet; watching those ripples gave me an odd feeling—a sense of unease.
It was an instinctive feeling. If I stood up even slightly straighter, I'd be choked and unable to breathe or open my eyes. Maintaining a height that was bearable, I turned my head to observe my surroundings but heard no sounds—not even the gentle lapping of water—and saw no moving objects.
From my crouched position looking at the Pavement, both my perspective and angle changed slightly; now it felt different than before. The ripples on the Pavement seemed to quiver, but due to dense aquatic plants, there were few clear views of it from this angle—I could only catch glimpses through gaps in the vegetation—making it uncertain what caused those ripples.
In this low-lying area, there was hardly any wind; I only felt a slight breeze when climbing that hill earlier. Here, however, it felt as if the air were stagnant. How could there be rippling water without wind? A thought suddenly struck me: waves caused by movement—was it Jack?!
I felt an excitement bubbling up within me as if I might leap into action; I shouted toward where I thought he might be: "Jack!"
This damn American Guy's name had two syllables that were almost whispered sounds when pronounced aloud; my voice barely carried any volume. So I abandoned that ineffective approach and let out a long howl instead—just a single sound meant to serve as a coordinate for him to locate me. What mattered most was that my voice traveled far.
The long sound lasted nearly two minutes, and I felt my vocal cords fully open. The ending note resembled a wolf's howl, a sound that should have been quite piercing. I was even a bit worried that Jack might mistake this place for the presence of a wolf.
Similarly, producing such a long sound had exhausted the air in my lungs. As I gasped for breath, I realized I had straightened up, only to inhale a large amount of thick smoke, nearly choking me. I bent over, coughing violently onto the pavement as mucus from my lungs and remnants of my last meal splattered onto the ground. I could barely maintain my balance; with each violent cough, it felt like my body would topple forward. I plunged the machete into the water to support myself, my face almost pressed against the pavement, and the sight of my own vomit made me want to escape from this place.
At that moment, the pavement in front of me suddenly shook violently. My oxygen-deprived brain tensed up, and instinctively, I lifted my head. At the same time, the pavement exploded with a loud bang, and a red object lunged toward my eyes.
In such an emergency, my heart might race with anxiety, but most of the time, my mind remains clear and even unusually sharp. As that red object charged at me, I immediately sensed it was a poisonous creature. In nature, poisonous creatures often display the most vibrant colors; the larger they are, the more pronounced this trait becomes—not for showboating but as a warning of danger.
Based on this judgment, I refrained from recklessly swatting it away and instead quickly fell backward. There was no time to run or even look back. Simultaneously, I swung the machete sideways at the approaching creature. My body's coordination and accuracy reached their peak at that moment; as I fell to the ground, I managed to knock the red object away.
I wasn't overly surprised by my accurate strike; I had confidence in this reaction. My eyes remained fixed on the red object, and in that instant when it was knocked into the air, I saw clearly—it was a crimson snake. At that moment, cold sweat truly broke out on me. A sense of relief washed over me; thankfully, I had made the right judgment.
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