Kael stepped out of the smithy, squinting against the soft morning light. His back ached from sleeping on the straw floor, but the village awaited him: seven crumbling structures, silent and still.

  Then he saw it—a well, just outside the smithy. Relief surged. Water. He hadn’t had a drop since waking in the field. His throat was dry.

  Peering inside, his stomach sank. Murky water, bits of debris floating on the surface.

  Great. Just great.

  He remembered the river he had seen from the watchtower. Cleaner, farther off, but in the same direction as the voices he had overheard yesterday. Hesitation prickled his skin.

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  I won’t let this life go to waste.

  Step by careful step, Kael moved toward the river, scanning shadows and edges of the forest. A sudden splash made him jump - a fish leapt from the water and vanished. He exhaled shakily. False alarm.

  At the riverbank, he cupped the cold water in his hands, sipping carefully. Earthy, muddy, but drinkable. Hunger gnawed at him.

  A fish darted in the shallow edge. Kael crept closer, but it slipped away with barely a movement of his foot. Not without tools, he muttered.

  Turning back, his eyes caught a berry bush slightly off the path. Fear prickled — what if they were poisonous? But determination pushed him forward. He tried a single berry. Nothing. Encouraged, he picked a few more, enough for now, though far from enough to survive long-term.

  Kael leaned back, letting the river’s quiet soothe him. Problems for another day.