Wow, do you all know how many things I need to update?! Yet here I am, writing more random angst. I am not sorry. Not even that angsty. Tw: Blood? Kinda.

The brush was thick and green, the air heavy with humidity, making his task all that much harder. He pushed through the branches, teeth gritting in concentration as he ignored the stinging cuts the branches inflicted on his bare arms and face. Breathing itself was becoming a chore as he ran, his feet pounding on the earthen floor. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage, threatening to burst at any moment.

Just an average day in the life of Stanford Pines.

He fought the instinct to look behind him, to check whether it was still chasing him. He wasn't sure what it was, he wasn't sure of anything anymore, but as soon as it became aware of his presence and started toward him, large bloody teeth staring right at him in a vicious snarl that made his blood curdle and hair stand up on end, he started running. He had been waiting for it to leave the water side, hoping he could refill his canteen and maybe scrub away what felt like (and probably was) years worth of dirt and grime. It had been the first accessible, non-filthy stream Ford had found in that area, so it wasn't exactly like he could just go find another spot to rest and clean up.

That's when it saw him.

Okay, that may not be accurate. Ford wasn't sure it had eyes. Perhaps the wind shifted and it caught scent of him? Or maybe it heard him shifting in his spot, impatient to have his turn after waiting for so long. Either way, it knew Ford was there, and it was not happy to see him. It growled and jumped over the narrow gap in the earth the water provided and Ford had moments to turn and run before it snatched him up in it's large, gaping jaws. Now he was sprinting as fast as he could in the overgrown brush of the forest, hot, sticky, injured, and exhausted, yet still running.

He kept running until he was eighty-two percent sure the beast was gone, seemingly bored of chasing him, moving on to find a meal less pitiful and meager and more ready to die than Ford was. He was covered in hundreds of tiny little scratches, the vines, and limbs in this area all very sharp, with many pointed thorns. He collapsed on the ground, still heaving and did his best to stop himself from breaking any rib bones as he inhaled, his brain desperate for oxygen.

His breathing eventually came to a steady rhythm and Ford groaned, running an agitated six-fingered hand over his face, pushing up his glasses with his hand to rub his eyes.

This was one of the more hostile places he'd been to so far. Not only were the creatures carnivorous brutes, but the climate itself seemed to be out to get him. It was over eighty-degrees at least, at every time of the day. Even at night, he barely got a respite from the punishing heat. He had already been forced to ditch his old trenchcoat, not having a good enough reason to keep it around. He kept most everything he needed on his belt or the strap he had acquired in the dimension before. The trenchcoat was only another thing to carry with the weather as it was, and he couldn't afford to be slowed down by anything.

Ford laid back in the little room he had and closed his eyes. It was dangerous, to do so in foreign country. In fact, it was dangerous to relax in all country, whether he be familiarized with it or not. Yet, he was so bone-achingly tired, he couldn't muster up the energy to care. He berated himself and lamented over the fact that he probably wasn't going to find that particular stream again, even if he traced his steps backward. It wasn't that he was lacking in the tracking department, he was a great tracker, it was that the landscape seemed to shift. He was in some sort of maze, and getting out of it was looking to be impossible.

As the last bit of adrenaline leaked from his system, Ford became aware of the cuts to an even greater extent than before and sat back up again to survey the damage. He pushed his glasses up from the edge of his nose and leaned in close to his arm, squinting. { Can we acknowledge that somehow Ford kept his glasses the entire thirty years?! Okay, moment over.} And examined the small cuts scattered across the outside of his forearm.

He expected it to be bleeding, he thought it was bleeding. Yet, all of them seemed to have congealed over. They weren't scabbed, precisely. More like the blood coagulated and created a thin shield of sorts. It stopped the bleeding and also kept alien bacteria from entering his bloodstream. Ford checked over the rest, and they all seemed to have done the same thing. He sighed in relief and let his head fall to his knees as he thought, not quite ready to keep moving forward. It was possible the plants were coated in some sort of congealing agent which allowed that peculiar effect to take place. Had he been back at home, he would have run a few tests and had the answer to that question in moments. Now he could only speculate. It was frustrating, but nothing to dwell over now.

He pushed himself back onto his feet, wobbling for a second as black spots danced before his eyes. He really needed that water if he wanted to get out of here. Or live to see the next few minutes of his life, since falling asleep like this was definitely not going to be good for his health with all these creatures roaming about. Ford huffed and clenched his jaw in concentration as he forced himself to move. He used the trees to help keep him steady as he got back into the motions of walking. Surely there had to be another source of water around somewhere, right? What with all this bright green growth, and the air that felt like he was trudging through mud? It was improbable for there not to be one around somewhere.

Improbable, but not impossible. Ford whimpered, his feet tripping up on a stray root and he stumbled, barely catching himself.

This was going to suck.

...

The grass beneath him was razor sharp, but Ford relished the feeling as he laid back, staring into the bright pink sky.

It had taken several days, but he eventually made his way out of the endless greenery and into a new dimension. When he got past the agonizing burning that accompanied traveling through a rift in space-time, he stepped onto the grassy plain with a smile. Not a tree in sight. The air was lighter, the weather more spring-like, and all around more friendly. He was on guard, of course. No need to be caught up in what may be a false sense of security, but he enjoyed feeling like he wasn't about to be murdered by the very plants that surrounded him. It was nice to breathe in and feel rejuvenated, rather than work for every single breath he took.

He had already taken the opportunity to start a campfire. The dimension he found himself already on the brink of night. He gathered what fuel he could from bushes, the wood was a strange purple, and the smell the smoke put off as they burned reminded him of cooked peaches, which in turn got him thinking about peach-cobbler. Oh, how he missed deserts. And food in general. It was amazing how much he had taken for granted before, and now would have given anything to have just one last time. Just so he could memorize it all before saying goodbye forever.

Now he was grateful to have clean water, and sometimes even muddy lake water if that's what was available to him.

Ford sighed, a peaceful smile adorning his features as he pulled his canteen from his belt with a click. He carefully unscrewed the top and swigged the contents, the fresh, cold liquid leaving him feeling reinvigorated. He sat up and blinked, trying to let the peaceful lull last a moment longer before he got back to work, ensuring his own safety. He was in a strange, unknown land. Who knows what night could bring.

He pushed himself off the ground with a grunt and set to work. Even though he was in the middle of an open field, that didn't leave him completely vulnerable. The fire burned steadily behind him as he began to shield the area he made for himself, shifting the limited number of mobile objects around him to stop the light from shining in every direction, giving himself some discretion. That way, if anyone looked his way, it might hide him from plain sight. Although, the probability of either were very slim. Nothing looked to inhabit anywhere near here, and even if darkness brought about some unexpected friends, they weren't necessarily hostile, right?

Who was he kidding? Shoot first, ask questions while you're doing it.

That done, he settled back into place, unsure whether to sleep while the fire was still going, wait until it went out, or just rest during the day, and move by night. Obviously, he wouldn't be moving just then, but whether he was going to sleep or not was still up for debate.

Ultimately, he couldn't fight his drooping eyelids anymore, and his entire body betrayed him as he fell into a deep, deep, sleep.

I don't even like peach cobbler. Or maybe that's apple pie. Have I ever even had peach cobbler? I don't know.