Prologue
...
The wind tears at what's left of his clothes. His body is like a hunk of naked flesh, crawling miserably along.
The scarred chest and the bloodied feet have numbed him, but he keeps his hollowed eyes fixed on the steep, terrifying road ahead.
？？？: Keep moving, to the higher place ...
He mumbles through cracked lips.
Where is here? None could tell, but the man knows he must go north, away from that village, away from that city, and into the rumored depths to find his final salvation.
By now he has successfully distanced himself from his homeland.
But he does not know if he will make it, or if he will become a feast for the vultures.
The physical agony and torment let him temporarily escape the mental torture. To him, this is enough.
He does not want the journey to end. Instead, he wants the penance to go on ceaselessly, like the fierce wind swirling on the cliff.
？？？: This is...
The uneven ground ends, and a dense forest lies ahead.
Birds hop high above in the treetops. He hears a faint rustling from the bushes and the gurgling of melting ice water.
？？？: Water...!
He buries his head in the icy river, the cold making his skull tremble, and rejoices with deep gulps.
Shamane: ...Ahhhh!
Having guzzled down the water, he lies on the soft moss, gazing at the dreary sky.
Shamane: Let's see how much farther you can take me.
He digs out the sharp pebbles in his soles, tears off his left arm cloth to bandage the wound, and walks to the forest entrance.
A huge tree towers over the entrance.
The bark is peeled off, carved with a twisted, bizarre deity.
The deity's face is smeared with beast blood, seemingly warning those about to enter the forest.
A hand full of wounds is placed on it.
Shamane: After all, the poisoned arrows, deadly traps, and fierce animals…
Fingers without nails brush over the deity's eyes.
Shamane: This face even looks welcoming to me, my friend.
He raises his hand, snaps off a thick branch, and staggers into the lush forest.
River
The river splits the land in two, like a crack in a canyon, turbulent and icy, never to be mended.
Without a doubt, the rapids will sweep away anything that steps into the current. While the remains will become a feast for the fishes, continuing to nourish this forest.
Shamane: Hm...
Shamane: It's not wise to wade this river.
He looks at the river's source and its destination, with no end in sight.
Crouching down, he reaches his right hand into the rapids, feeling its breath and fury. But he frowns solemnly, withdrawing his hand.
Shamane: Seems like I'm not welcome here, either.
Bowing his head, he looks back at the way he came.
After a long while, he turns and faces the river, taking a deep breath.
—Splash! He jumps in without hesitation.
...
...
Shamane: Blech! Cough cough cough...
Shamane: Washed ashore on the other side, he kneels on the ground, convulsing and vomiting.
Shamane: Ah... Ah... Choo!
Shamane: ...
Shamane: Just walk it off if you still can. Nothing to complain about.
Giant Rock
Where did it come from? And how did it end up here?
Massive, immovable—anyone who sets their eyes on it would wonder about these things.
The huge boulder, carved with strange patterns, is wedged in the crevice by accident or not, blocking the only way forward.
It remains motionless, leaving only a gap the size of a fist.
Shamane: ...It looks a bit taller than the sacred fig tree at home.
He pats the rock. Its smooth touch seems especially unfriendly now.
Shamane: Hmm...it's not as easy to climb as that tree!
He looks for footholds on the boulder and moves up it skillfully, climbing bit by bit with his right hand.
Shamane: Phew, phew...good...Ah-!
The boulder below suddenly begins to shake.
Along with the strange movement, the patterns on the boulder emit light.
Shamane: !?...!
The boulder's shaking intensifies, until it jolts and throws him off violently.
On the ground, a cone-shaped bone shard stands sharp, predictably piercing his calf.
Shamane: Ugh...!
Blood soaks the leg cloth.
Shamane: Tsk... How is this rock...
An unforeseen obstacle.
Bearing the pain, he forcibly digs out the bone shard.
Shamane: Phew...quite the temper.
Bramble Bushes
He probes carefully, leaving a drop of blood on his fingertip from the thorns.
Shamane: ...
The blood-red thorns have grown rampant. Within the thicket, numerous skeletons can be seen intact; the blood-soaked soil has turned dark crimson—this seems to be its sustenance.
Shamane: Seems like you've been feasting in the past years.
The fingers avoid the tips, instead grabbing the coarse branches between the spines.
Shamane: I wonder what your teeth can do to the stones, if they couldn't even break up human bones?
Shamane: ...Let me think...
He gathers a pile of pebbles, picking out the hardest and sharpest rocks.
Shamane: Ha-!
The rock held high crashes down on the thorns, shattering sections of branches. Bright red sap splatters on his arms in a speckled pattern.
Shamane: Huff— Huff—
Shamane: Almost done.
The thorns on their last legs, Shamane reaches in with his stick, prying open the broken thorns, and squeezing in sideways with his body.
But the thorns seem to sense the foreign intrusion and swarms around, their hooks piercing his ankles, abdomen, and aiming for his eyes...
Shamane: ...!
The lone right hand grips the climbing branches tightly.
Shamane: At the very least...
Shamane: I can't stop here!
The spikes pierce deep into the skin.
Shamane: —!!
He moves forward, disappearing into the thorn bushes.
Epilogue
Shamane: Whew...
After a day's bitter journey, his exhausted, battered body finally reaches a quiet place.
The scabbed wounds ache faintly. He swallows a mouthful of bloody saliva, trying to deceive his howling stomach.
Shamane: Nearly there.
He looks up, the sky spinning in his eyes.
Shamane: ...
Without any warning, his heavy eyelids droop—the sky draws its curtain.
Freezing darkness swallows the hills, invading his body, and soon his consciousness sinks into a dense darkness.
He collapses to the ground like a cut log. The faint sounds quickly are dispersed by the wind and snow, disappearing into the woods.