Once again on a corpse throne and this time of multiple wolves, Quintin sat up on his elbows. The entirety of his sore and bedraggled body ached, which made his throbbing ribs into the only proof he yet lived. Punctured, bruised, and scratched, but ultimately unbroken, he panted roughly while he took in his new surroundings.

His clothes were ripped and torn with pants now looking more like bum-shorts with thin, stray ribbons that bared scabbed-over wounds to the elements. Black, red, and yellow bruises were like an after-shock chart as they circled around a variety of different wounds. He even had a swollen, puffed out cheek from when he headbutted against something along the way.

But, he was alive, and gaining [Levels].

Down on the valley floor, the mounds he had seen from on high during his decent were now an all too real reminder of the battles fought. Seven [Intruder Wolf] corpses laid out in a sprawl of crumpled-up shapes amongst the vegetation.

Overall, the pain was passing, but a lingering stiffness still pervaded him as he stood and clutched at his side. The cold metal of his hands soothing his bruised ribs.

Any minute now more [Intruder Wolves] could come, so I need to make the best use of my time and gather as many claws as I can. If only I had a backpack. The system did say something about storage, but unfortunately, I have no idea how to unlock that. No matter, my pants still have plenty of pocket space.

He mustered his determination and got to work as quickly as he could. Since he had experience with removing the claws, it was now easier to accomplish. Before too long, he stood back up while looking at thirty newly gathered projectiles.

Briefly wiping the accumulated sweat from his brow, he then got about the business of replacing expended bolts, stuffing the remainder into his pants.

That's about all I'm willing to risk right now; my current [HP] is really low at 50. I'd estimate I spent maybe 10 minutes gathering claws, in which case, I seem to regenerate about 4 [HP] per minute from somewhere...

He decided to try and find a place to mend up first before making any decisions about what to do and where to go. He was also keenly aware he hadn't eaten for a while now and would soon need to find a source of food and water.

Moving further away through the tangle of greenery and dense foliage, the sound of flowing water tickled his ears. It hadn't been too long since he left the scene of carnage, but the prospect of washing up made him move past his worries just a little bit quicker.

He could feel relief in the air as the distance kept shrinking, hints of it trickled in and out of his surroundings. The cool crystal water flowed in between a tiny glen, partially obscured by vegetation as he jogged.

I've never been so happy to see water!

His vigilance lasted mere moments as he parted the last obstacle of plant life in the way. He could now see the pulse of the brook that unfolded into a scene of tranquil, inviting vibrancy. Quintin readily stripped down, ran over the crest, and plunged into the waist-high water.

He came up for air soon after which sent droplets of water scattering. As he dove under and surfaced again, dried blood and flakey bits drifted off downstream. Quintin only stopped when the harsh encounters he had faced reminded him that this wasn't a vacation.

After making sure he was as clean as he was going to be, he pulled himself onto dry land and began to put his tattered clothing back on.

He decided to follow the brook downstream to see what, if anything, it led to.

Follow a body of water and the likelihood of reaching some semblance of civilization increases. Not that I have any better idea even if that's not true here, on a freaking different planet, with wolves that climb freaking mountains.

At least one of his worries had been relieved with a source of water nearby that he could quench his thirst from while he traveled.

Before he knew it, he had been wandering for at least four hours. It was nearly evening and he had been looking around for potential rest spots for some time now when he came across a medium-sized tree hollow in close proximity to the brook.

It's no guarantee I'll find anything better. May as well have a look inside.

He knelt down and peered inside the darkened entrance only spotting some Lichen and mushrooms growing inside, but otherwise empty and suitable for a night's rest.

To be on the safe side he [Identified] the various plants.

The babbling brook seemed to voice itself in a quieter tone as Quintin's face smooshed onto the [Tranquil Lichen]. In free-fall, as his eyelids drew closed, a solemn memory of a voice intoned through his drowsy mind —

That which is invisible need not be fought earnestly; let the feints fall where they may. Death is decided straight away!

                        +***+
                      End of Chapter 2