Day two of my aimless wandering was going about as well as you could expect.

I made some good distance in the morning after driving off that wolf ‘prince’ and just marched in whatever direction my feet seemed inclined to fall, counting on my perk to guide me to my destination; I was far from the place I last rested when the sky darkened and the rain came in.

Setting up a shelter in a spring downpour is enough of a pain when you’re not missing one of your hands, but somehow I managed it, once again through the multipurpose tools known as teeth.

As sodden and miserable as I was, the rain brought a certain beauty to my surroundings; the patter of the drops on the canopy of leaves and the faint and musty smell of petrichor both took me back.

The pathways in my brain were probably lighting up like a Christmas tree as the wave of recall washed over me along with a sheet of that cool rain.

I spent a lot of my youth on my grandfather’s land; a broad plot of back acre in central Florida in a rural little speck on the map.

On days like this, I’d go running around the woods splashing about in the rain and reveling in the freedom of it all; the sky would be bright even as it poured down like the floodgates of heaven had opened up.

I’d find my fun collecting toads while they were out of their burrows and in-advisably prodding snakes of varying degrees deadliness with old sticks until I got too wet or tired to go on.

After I’d had my fill of the woods and the rushing creek, I’d stomp my way into the ramshackle trailer as a ball of mud and twigs to enjoy a mug of hot tomato soup with a grilled cheese fried in far too much butter.

I’d while away the evening watching my favorite VHS tape of the Three Stooges and listening to the drumming of rain on the leaky tin roof, occasionally emptying the drip buckets into the bathtub.

For a moment I thought my tarp lean-to had failed in its job of keeping me dry, but the wetness on my cheeks was warm… tears.

I had no warm family home to return to in this rain and no smiling face to welcome me, no grilled cheese and tomato soup.

A few less pleasant memories slotted into place and reminded me that I hadn’t had those things for some time in my former life either; the cause wasn’t immediately clear in my mind, just that something big had come between my family and I.

I wish I could say I bucked up and kept going, but I just couldn’t, not after remembering that; in life or death moments, it’s easy not to feel… but in those quiet times between the struggles when it’s just me and the rain falling; I’m reminded of just how alone I am here.

I spent the rest of the rainy day sat beneath the tarp, trying not to break into sobs.

Depression is a bitch in any world, makes it too easy to get lost in your head.

I slept on the ground that night, hidden beneath the roots of a massive tree that spiraled their way out over a boulder forming a natural overhang; it might not have been as secure as a high sleeping perch, but it was dryer and to be frank I didn’t have the physical or emotional energy to drag myself into the branches by my teeth again.

---

Dawn came with a substantial improvement in my mood; breakfast was cold roast pork again, same as dinner, but I could feel something stirring in me as I treated my wounds and packed my gear for another day of walking: Purpose.

Not to say I was truly ‘over’ anything, remembering the apparent long string of traumas I’ve faced one at a time makes them feel fresh again in my mind.

“I can do this…”

As unfair as everything was, this world was a new chance and an unprecedented one; as soon as I got out of figurative and… well, literal woods, I could live a life of adventure.

Just imagining the amazing opportunities was enough to motivate me; even the pain of my infection and the consistent phantom itch on my missing hand weren’t enough to keep me down.

I spoke to myself as I marched, eyes peeled for any sign of my goal.

“What do I want to do when I finally manage to get out of this forest…?”

“If there isn’t an adventurer’s guild, I’m totally gonna make one because this shit out here is ridiculous.”

“Also soap and hygiene products… toothpaste, definitely gonna make minty toothpaste if it’s not already a thing.”

“Really hope this world has gender equality worked out… I’ll probably have to stab a motherfucker if they don’t.”

My musings continued as I trudged hours through the still slightly sodden forest; I considered my career path and came up with a few contingency plans for if the society was as ass backwards as the medieval era.

Some of them did involve stabbing, but most involved the usual stuff that isekai protagonists do; I mean introducing an approximation of modern medicine and hygiene, not fucking everything on two¹Or more legs and being a weirdly paternalistic ‘father-husband-god-king’.

I shuddered slightly at the thought and possibly gagged a bit before the emergency brakes in my brain went off and I chose a different track of thought out of mental self defense.

For as nasty as the place is, there are long stretches when absolutely nothing happens; honestly, you could almost mistake the forest for a nature trail if you weren’t paying attention and discounted the Panera Bread.

“Wait, the what…?”

I did a double take.

It was still there, plain as day surrounded by trees probably older than most European countries... a free standing chain restaurant known for selling bread and soup of middling quality²At least in recent years, they used to be pretty good.

“Fucking hell, I am hallucinating aren’t I?”

An employee waved to me through the window.

“Nope, not engaging.”

I opted to walk away casually.

The server rushed out of the double doors and chased after me; I can’t be sure what exactly possessed me to stop, but I did.

She looked like an actress, took me a moment to place a name to the face but I did.

“Come weary traveler and rest here, we have bread and soup to supp upon should you desire sustenance.”

I turned to obviously fake Lucy Lawless and sighed.

“Come on… this is totally a trap.”

Her expression froze for a bare moment before she did her best to keep the act up.

“Nay, nay it cannot be so; I’ve long waited for a customer, won’t you come in?”

That of course is utter bullshit, no one in retail actually wants customers to come in during their shift; they want to sit in peace and silence to browse the internet on their phone until the clock runs out and they can go home and browse the internet there.

“Okay, so lets roll with this crock of horseshit for a moment, answer a few questions and I will go inside and buy up some slightly stale mass produced ‘artisanal’ breads while I keep you company.”

“I do not understand why you find this necessary, but I will answer any questions you have… just come inside.”

“No, I’m enjoying the weather, it’s a shame that your establishment doesn’t have a patio.”

Of course after I said that, lo and behold in the time it took me to blink my eyes there was a lovely little patio with window boxes full of flowers.

“Right… question one, why do you look like Lucy Lawless?”

“I… am Lucy Lawless, I moved here to follow my dreams and open a... ”

“You can’t be serious, is every monster in these woods this dim?”

“If you just let me explain...”

“No, go ahead, let’s hear your pitch on why Lucy Lawless or her perfect doppelganger decided to open a Panera Bread in the middle of a fuck-off deadly forest in a fucking alternate universe.”

“...”

“I’ll wait.”

“... well I got… lost in the…”

“Yeah, not likely, lets not demean ourselves any further keeping this up; what kind of monster are you and why exactly are you trying to lure me in?”

“Oh, I’m not trying anymore, I just had to wait for the wind to change direction.”

Her face twisted into an inhuman grin as the illusion faded, like a mirage dissolving when you get too close; I really should’ve been paying better attention to what I was doing, the entire time we were having that conversation, she’d somehow been inching me closer.

“Shit…”

I was left standing in a copse of dead trees ringed around a violet colored flower larger than I’d ever seen; I make size comparisons often but it was hard to place one, not because it was that large but rather because of the secondary part of my predicament.

My mind swiftly grew cloudy as the breeze carried on past me; a floral scent filled the air so thick that I could hardly breathe.

It was a bit like being stoned, I stared at the true form of the monster and felt… calm.

I was not alarmed by its smooth and almost featureless figure; it was a green vaguely humanoid figure with jaws like a venus fly trap and beady eyes so devoid of color that they seemed not to reflect a scrap of light.

It beckoned… with the illusion broken it had no need to move its mouth and simply spoke into my mind as the wolf had earlier.

“Come closer and rest… drink some sweet nectar and sleep.”

I raged inside my head, trying to draw my focus away from the creature, focus on anything else… the heaps of bones and desiccated carcasses both humanoid and otherwise, the ground black and blighted where its roots met the soil as if it’d devoured all the life for almost 10 meters surrounding it.

But that voice was… powerful, the statement was not a suggestion but a command that rang through me with the power of every authority figure I’d ever known; this monster spoke into my mind in myriad voices. It was my caring parents, my generous boss, my stern teacher, my wizened priest, the protective neighborhood police, my doctor and my therapist.

“Yes… come closer…”

My body moved against my will.

I screamed in my mind as I climbed one of the petals, my good hand reaching out past the stamen of the giant flower to gather up a handful of sweet nectar that was juuust out of reach; it looked so inviting, so refreshing… I just had to climb in further, I just had to get into the flower, I had to drink th-

NO

“Stop resisting, drink the nectar and sleep.”

GET OUT OF MY HEAD

“The illusion may have failed but you cannot resist me; you are weak, you will not survive.”

“Drink the nectar and I will give you a painless death.”

Fury burned in my chest, I screamed and rattled the cage of my mind and lashed out however I could; conveniently I learned the prior morning that you didn’t need to stop for breath if you were screaming telepathically.

GET OUT OF MY HEAD!

Rage of the purest most refined sort flowed out of me like water, rage against every time authority had betrayed me and people I cared about, rage against injustice made law or practice; whatever this flower monster was, it had made a mistake in choosing what to call upon in coercing my mind.

GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT
GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT
GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT
GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT
GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT
GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT
GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT
GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT
GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT
GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT

Memories blossomed like flowers of hate in my mind; all at once it was my parents throwing me out for being myself, my boss telling me to choose between my job and my health, my teachers punishing me for disagreeing, my priest decrying me abomination, police officers shouting at me and my friends, the doctors and therapists that ignored everything I said.

NO ONE TELLS ME WHAT TO DO!

The veins in my forehead bulged as I strained against the monster’s grip over me.

YOU DON’T CONTROL ME!

Something warm poured down my cheek, blood spilled from my eyes and nose in scarlet streaks as I tore control of my body away from that fucking bitch.

NO ONE CONTROLS ME!

My arm moved, snapping unnaturally straight and stabbing the knife tied to my wrist stump into the horrid thing’s green flesh; thick ichor spilled free from the wound and it shrieked a horrid cry both in my mind and out loud.

My muscles seemed to resist each motion as if I was dragging my limbs through molasses, but still I managed to wrap my hand around it’s throat and slam it to the ground; I twisted the knife and pounded it’s face with headbutt after headbutt.

It’s head split like a melon as I beat and stabbed every ounce of rage that I had into it, I was painted a dark and sickly green by the stringy gore I’d reduced it to.

After it’s weirdly humanoid form was a thick pulp, the large flower itself retaliated with whip like vines coated in thorns.

Maybe I should’ve cut my losses and run in the same way I should’ve just kept on walking to start with, but I couldn’t tear myself away; on some level, I think the monster’s attractive power backfired, because in that moment I couldn’t allow myself to leave this thing alive.

The vines lashed at me like a cat of nine tails as I rushed forward, tearing at my armor and rending away divots of skin and flesh with each pass over unprotected portions of my body.

I fought with everything I had, stabbing, cutting, biting and tearing the animate vegetation to a choir of horrid burbling shrieks; I might’ve even used a bomb or two despite my close proximity, but somewhere along the way the strap for my bag was broken and I didn’t have the wherewithal to see where it’d landed.

So I inched my way forward towards the flower and the root of the blossom emerging from a heap of desiccated carrion and bones, though I tore through a great many vines, they never seemed to thin in number until I slashed them there at the base.

My hand bloody I dug away the heap of almost powdery corpses to expose a tender white bulb and jammed my knife in deep, twisting before pulling out and repeating the action like a machine piston; over and over and over again I stabbed at it until the screeching stopped and the vines fell still.

Just as I relaxed, one unseen green shot leapt up from the heap of bones to strike at me, this one bulbed out at the tip with a pumpkin sized thorny sphere.

I caught it’s length in my left hand, ignoring the pain of the thorns punching into my skin and cut it off at the base.

Unfortunately, I misread the moment and seconds later the portion at the end exploded like a thorny shrapnel bomb and blew me back at least a meter; a dying vengeance against me that left spikes of green buried in several places.

This time, I didn’t black out, instead I lay bleeding on the blighted ground staring up into the sky until the fury melted away from my mind.

In the silence after everything fell still and the ringing left my ears, I found myself unable to resist that implanted command: “drink the nectar and rest.”

I wasn’t about to be a fool about it though; first, I made sure it was dead.

I took a grim sort of joy in stabbing the pasty white vaguely humanoid root structure until it was a fine paste.

The flower was obviously designed to close on unwitting victims; my concern was that the mechanism that closed the blossom was an autonomous or pressure triggered one.

My solution for that was simple, I dug through the pile of bones and found a few good long femurs that I snapped using the heel of my boot; I took great pleasure in nailing each massive petal to the earth, hammering the bone stakes through all five of them with a stone as a makeshift hammer.

When I finally climbed the flower again, I did so knowing it was dead or disabled to the point of being incapable of harming me again and I reveled in the taste of the sweet nectar.

It was refreshing and cooling and a bit syrupy like chilled mead; my pain seemed to subside almost instantly and I felt a warm glow throughout my body.

All at once, tension left my body and I felt faintly drunk and numb; in retrospect it’s obvious that it has potent analgesic properties, probably to keep prey from fighting back… but it was also delicious and a pretty good prize after that fight.

"That bitch had one thing right… this shit is good.”

Finally free from the compulsion, I gathered my damaged bag and sat down to treat my new wounds.

It took almost an hour to dig all of the thorns from that last explosion out of my skin; having my pain receptors turned off was nice, but the numbness in my fingers certainly didn’t help in retrieving some of the deeper buried fragments.

I did end up nicely bandaged and washed out ever wound I could find, though I can’t say I was overly worried about them when compared to the weeping injury on my abdomen; honestly it felt a bit like changing a flat on a burning wreck.

In the end, I spent the night there in the dead glade; I saw a few shapes move in the darkness this time but it became apparent that none were planning on approaching.

Either word had got around about me, or more likely they thought what they were seeing was an illusion of the dead flower monster here in the glade and didn’t want to risk becoming it’s next meal.

As I rose the next morning, I took a sip of the numbing nectar before going through the cleaning of my wounds which made the process a lot less painful; after that I decided to bottle up the rest of the nectar in jars and vials I’d already emptied of water, no use in letting it go to waste after all.

With my senses about me again I dug through the heap looking for anything useful; one or two older bodies at the bottom resembled humans or humanoids and among their desiccated bones were a pair of bags like my own in every respect; probably the standard model of magic satchel.

I didn’t take the time to sort through them, but they seem to have some useful equipment buried in them.

It seems like whatever armor they were wearing was long since destroyed and their weapons were barely more than unidentifiable hunks of rust that I didn’t dare touch for fear of tetanus; I’d had my shots back on earth but something tells me they don’t carry over through whatever process landed me here.

Beyond that, in my searching of the heap I noticed a single thumb sized emerald green stone buried in the pulpy mess that used to be the monster.

“Huh, that’s probably a monster core or whatever they’re gonna call them here.”

“I know I haven’t made the comparison more than a few times what with my life constantly being under threat, but this world seems… painfully fantasy-isekai.”

After that moment of dreadful awareness, I spent an hour twining together a makeshift strap to replace the broken one on my bag, cleaned myself up and prepared to march on.

All in all, I was feeling pretty good as I set off for my next day of travel, but I was still angry.

I can’t remember having much in my life that I could control; every day it was pretty clear who would decide what I did, when I would eat, what I would wear.

In a way it was liberating being free of that despite the immediate threat to life and limb.

The one thing that was mine was my own mind, having that… thing in my head, putting ideas in me that weren’t mine was... vile.

As I strapped up my brand new magic bags and marched out of the dead clearing, I came to a completely logical and rational decision.

“I’m gonna fucking kill every one of these things I run across.”

Just kidding, had you going for a moment with that 'rational decision' line, didn’t I?