Merlin looked at what remained of the rabbit.
He sighed. It would not last long like this.
He shifted closer to the faint light that still filtered through the trees and began cutting the rest into thinner strips. Not wide chunks. Narrow and Even. He pressed each piece flat against the stone and drew the blade carefully, reducing thickness where he could.
Thinner meant less to spoil.
At least, that made sense to him.
When he finished, he examined the broken snare again. The cord was frayed but usable in sections. He separated the strongest lengths and tied them together, testing the pull.
It held.
Merlin chose a low branch near his shelter but not directly above it. He threaded several strips of meat through the cord and hung them so they did not touch each other.
Air moved better higher up.
He stepped back and studied it.
Crude.
But it was something.
The remaining pieces he wrapped tightly again and carried to the river. He searched until he found a thick root reaching into the water. He tied the bundle securely and lowered it into the current, wedging a stone over the cord to keep it from drifting.
The river would keep it cooler than the air.
As he finished He reached inside his coat and pulled out the small waterskin that hung from a cord beneath it he scooped some water from the river with the waterskin then he took a sip before slipping it back into his coat.
He looked back at the meat and watched it for a moment, ensuring the knot held,he was mostly scared that it would be snatched by a river inhabitant while he sleeps. He sighed... then returned to the shelter.
Back at the hollow, he examined the carcass more closely. He separated the larger bones carefully, scraping them clean with the edge of the dagger. One rib splintered when he pressed it against a stone.
Sharp enough.
He turned it in his fingers, considering.
Not useless.
When he was finished, the clearing looked different.
Less like a place he had stumbled into.
More like something claimed.
Merlin sat down again with the dagger resting across his lap.
The forest continued its quiet movements.
This time, he felt slightly less temporary.
His eyes drifted to the strips of meat hanging from the branch.
Too many to waste. Too early to let hunger dull his thoughts.
He reached up and pulled one free.
The meat was still warm where the blade had cut it. Raw. Slightly slick between his fingers. He hesitated only a moment before bringing it to his mouth.
The first bite was tougher than he expected. The fibers resisted, forcing him to chew slowly. A faint metallic taste spread across his tongue, sharp and unfamiliar, as soon as he tasted it he could remember his experience of killing the rabbit... it didn't really help with the taste.
It was far from pleasant.
But strangely Not terrible either.
Just food.
He swallowed and took another bite, smaller this time. His stomach tightened as it accepted the meat, as if unsure whether to welcome it or reject it.
Hunger settled the argument quickly.
Merlin finished the strip and wiped his fingers on a patch of moss beside him. He reached for the waterskin and took a small drink, washing the taste from his mouth.
Better to eat now while it was still fresh.
He removed one more strip and ate it more slowly, chewing with patient focus until nothing remained.
Only then did he settle back against the hollow.
Merlin leaned into the rough wood, letting the tension leave his shoulders in slow increments. The forest moved quietly around him, each rustle and sigh of leaves registering in his ears.
He tore several broad leaves from a low branch, brushing them free of dew, and laid them across the hollow floor. Not much. Not soft. But it separated him from the damp earth.
A small shield against discomfort.
His fingers lingered on the dagger. Sharp. Balanced. Reliable. He scraped the edge against a rough stone, the faint scent of iron rising, and tested its cut on a small twig.
He could survive with this.
With this and his wits, he could last.
Although he didn't have to do it forever... Hopefully.
Merlin scanned the surrounding trees, noting hollowed trunks and twisted roots that might conceal small animals or shelter from wind. His gaze followed the river, imagining it as a lifeline.
As his eyes returned to the clearing, he caught the faintest movement far beyond the hanging meat—a shadow shifting between branches.
He froze.
Heart thudding. Breath held.
But it vanished as quickly as it appeared.
Only the forest remained.
Silent.
Indifferent.
Merlin exhaled slowly.
He wasn't safe.
Not yet.
But he had claimed a small piece of it. A place he could rest, eat, and think.
For the first time since the walls of Xiberia faded behind him, he allowed himself to sink fully against the hollow trying his best not to think about anything he left behind.
The forest would not bend to him.
But for now…
He could bend to it.
His eyes closed.
And for the first time, he slept without running.