Hall of Infinite Doors
You don't know how these memories came to you, but you know what's important: food. Food is your goal. Perhaps you can find a few of the small, fall-blossoming fruits remaining in the woods, or discover a stream with fish, or even a small, meat-bearing animal you can kill and preserve. There are several memories sitting in your mind of successful hunts, even one where you brought down a large, nasty-looking raptorlike bird and shared its flesh with the tribe, using the thing's spiky feathers for clothes.
Now, however, you cannot set your sights that high. You stride forward from your cave, beholding before you a wide, bowl-shaped valley dotted with indentations and caverns, with a rocky, unsure series of natural steps leading to the eaves of a rocky evergreen forest. You stride towards it, absorbing the rocks and needles in the ground with the toughened leathery soles of your feet, and soon find yourself under the shadowy eaves of the wood. The sounds of insects buzz close, though the birds, which you remember as being plentiful, make barely a distant peep.
You think back to your experiences hunting, and assume a quiet, stalking pose, moving swiftly under the hanging boughs of an ancient fir and waiting. The day drags onward, but you know that remaining still and observant is the best way to surprise an animal. Even then, you're disappointed and disturbed by how few animals you see, or even sense the passing of. Only the thin, quick squirrels make even a passing appearance, leaping from tree to tree in their ceaseless race across the sky.
By evening, you're tired and hungry (or hungrier) and losing patience. You stand and brush the dead needles from the hair on your knees, and prepare to search for less mobile foods. You disentangle yourself from the hanging boughs and set off deeper into the woods.
The thing is, this is exactly what the thing hunting YOU had been waiting for.
You hear a resounding crash and turn quick enough to see an approaching scaly bulk and the lightninglike snap of a swift serpentine head. Then you feel a horrible piercing pain in your abdomen and expire without much trouble.
Now, however, you cannot set your sights that high. You stride forward from your cave, beholding before you a wide, bowl-shaped valley dotted with indentations and caverns, with a rocky, unsure series of natural steps leading to the eaves of a rocky evergreen forest. You stride towards it, absorbing the rocks and needles in the ground with the toughened leathery soles of your feet, and soon find yourself under the shadowy eaves of the wood. The sounds of insects buzz close, though the birds, which you remember as being plentiful, make barely a distant peep.
You think back to your experiences hunting, and assume a quiet, stalking pose, moving swiftly under the hanging boughs of an ancient fir and waiting. The day drags onward, but you know that remaining still and observant is the best way to surprise an animal. Even then, you're disappointed and disturbed by how few animals you see, or even sense the passing of. Only the thin, quick squirrels make even a passing appearance, leaping from tree to tree in their ceaseless race across the sky.
By evening, you're tired and hungry (or hungrier) and losing patience. You stand and brush the dead needles from the hair on your knees, and prepare to search for less mobile foods. You disentangle yourself from the hanging boughs and set off deeper into the woods.
The thing is, this is exactly what the thing hunting YOU had been waiting for.
You hear a resounding crash and turn quick enough to see an approaching scaly bulk and the lightninglike snap of a swift serpentine head. Then you feel a horrible piercing pain in your abdomen and expire without much trouble.
