"Why would a dragon hoard gold?"

- Jordan B. Peterson

Blood trickled slowly out of his heel, and he could see that there was light and darkness. The light pierced through a rampart of thorns. The thorns scared him, and the light shined humbly through them; but the weight of the darkness became unbearable, so he drew near the frightful thorns and gazed directly into the light. Now he saw what light and darkness were, and his eyes were opened.

#

Curtains of soft skin drew, but he felt no fatigue. His vision adjusted and he saw the sky. He judged its colour and noted its blue hue, lacking any hint of orange or red. Cirrus clouds lay scattered above the horizon. The sun was still low in the sky.

"What a wonderful morning it is," He yawned, "but I do not recall sleeping outside." He said aloud with subtle apprehension in the latter half of his statement.

He trained his eyes on his direct surroundings. Towering trees, wide at the bottom of the trunk with narrow moss-covered branches littered the landscape. He stood upon miry ground — moss covered tree roots diffused across the floor, forming a matrix which held the loose soil together. Short grasses grew around the tree roots, leaving pockets of dry land.

Finally, his other two senses rendered within his conscious mind. Warm, humid air met his skin, and an unbearable hissing filled his ears. He had read American books describing environments like this; they called it a "swamp." There were no swamps where he was from, yet he felt no alarm. He then walked in no particular direction.

As he strolled, being careful to avoid tripping over the tree roots, he tried to elucidate the peculiar state of consciousness he found himself in. For some reason, he could not remember clearly what had transpired before the sky met his eyes. It was like recalling a dream from the night before. Even as an amateur poet, he could not transcribe the feeling which circled his head at the very moment. No metaphor or allegory could do justice to such an experience; but before he could put a lid on his ongoing thought, his right foot caught a root, causing him to stumble forward. His left hand caught the ground, but his elbow gave way and he fell on his left side.

He whispered quietly to himself, "Woe betide me if my father were still alive. He would have admonished me for my ungainliness."

He sighed as he gathered to his feet, not bothering to wipe off the mud from his dark redingote; his leather gloves had also been drenched. Under his now soiled black redingote he wore a black coat which reached down to his knees, concealing the sides of his dark grey pants — still contrasting nicely with the black coat — but leaving the front open. Underneath this lay an ever so faintly tan waistcoat atop a pure white shirt whose collar reached just below his chin. A pure white cravat was tied around his neck, coming to an aloof bow tie.

Witnessing his filth, he shook out of his dream like trance, waking up to the sobering reality of his situation.

"There are no swamps in my country," He realised, "Oh dear."

"Tis just like your experiments," addressing himself, "follow the steps."

He traced back to the first episodic memory he had so far: his observation of the sky. Blue hue, low sun position. He looked up again and astutely observed the change in the sun's position, observing that at least an hour had passed, but, more importantly, that he had been walking north. He surmised a most basic assertion regarding his environment: the copious amount of water being his main concern.

"This water must come from a source, be it a river or its tributaries; people reside near water; by following this umbilical, I shall find refuge."

He finished his perspicacious deduction, which he was quite proud of, but felt acutely disappointed to see that his hands were still shaking. He had never truly been in danger before, or, at least, his life had never been in danger. The longest a mere man could survive exposed to the elements without water was no more than a few days, and that was if a wild animal did not make a carrion of his meager flesh.

"East or West…"

Rivers usually flow parallel to the prime meridian, so heading perpendicular would increase his chance of stumbling across a river or at least a small tributary. Whether or not he found people was a secondary concern. He needed to ensure access to fresh water to survive.

"East it is!"

He chose his direction of travel with a firm sense of purpose, but he could not precisely reason why. Perhaps it was the result of some ingrained tradition or habit. He always preferred one direction to another according to his dominant hand, so perhaps this was a similar case, only with a more abstract motivator. Thus, he marched east.

#

An afternoon stroll here and there is food for the soul, or so he thought. The pleasure of a stroll came when the mind could meander about a puzzling thought or fascination, but he could only think about his sore legs and parched mouth.

"Which is the quickest killer, boredom or thirst?"

Even after trudging through mire for two hours, his surroundings had not changed significantly. The only thing occupying his mind now was the subtle slope he had been following — not especially because it was the only interesting thing he had seen in hours. He walked for ten more minutes before meeting with an inexplicable sight: footprints. Looking behind him, he noticed had unknowingly followed a set of faint tracks for at least two minutes. Their shape and definition increased over a distance, indicating that they were headed in the same direction he was. More alarmingly, however, was the shape they left in the mud. Two figures walking side by side. One set of footprints resembled that of a crow, but, more disturbingly, they were man-sized. The other set resembled the boot print of an ordinary man. The prints were staggered in between tree roots, but occasionally, on flat ground, a straight and steady direction could be evinced.

"They must be traveling together, but what remarkable shoe leaves behind such a perplexing mark?"

He was so engrossed that it took him the better part of a minute to snap back to reality. Now, his salvation lay wherever the footprints led. Realising this, he galloped merrily in the path of the footsteps, humming like a child on Christmas morning. As he covered considerable distance, the trees began to thin out, and he could finally see just beyond the tree line. Approaching the exit, his mind wondered with excitement. He suddenly recalled the account of his baptism. He was only a month old at the time, but his mother recounted the events for him later on. The whole ordeal took place facing east, as it had been since the days of the Roman empire.

"Naturally! Fool that I am... but why should I recall this now?"

Before he could ponder any further, he broke through the tree line, and a sizable riverbank revealed itself. Two figures stood at the edge of the water. He could not distinguish their appearance apart from the difference in clothing; one man appeared in peasant clothing with a woven basket and hatchet hanging from his waist; On his back, a comically large backpack bearing an inappreciable number of compartments. His companion was far more difficult to make sense of. He wore a single piece that covered his chest and resolved to a red kilt lined with yellow at the hem. What seemed to be a green, scaly hood covered his entire head and seemed to resolve to a long cloak which tapered down until coming to a point. Despite what seemed like his salvation lying right before his eyes, a sense of trepidation filled his heart; but he had no other choice but to approach them.

As he gained upon them, the peculiar companion's bizarre appearance became clearer.

"Greetings gentleman! Pardon me, but I seem —," He choked as he finally realised what he was looking at, pallor suffusing his complexion.

What he thought was an unconventional cloak was part of this strange fellow's body. Its scaly "hood" was the head of a bipedal lizard, and the tapering end was its tail. Startled, he scrambled to fashion an escape, but it was far too late; the pair had heard his untimely address, and they turned to face him. Finally, he got a good look at their faces, witnessing their puzzled expression. He immediately focused on the more familiar of the two: a human. He bore a rugged but honest visage; green eyes, short, unkempt orange hair, and a thick beard on his chin; but he also gave off an intimidating presence. They stared into each other's eyes for a split second before the stranger interrupted the awkward tension with a wide smile.

"Well, that is reassuring."

The stranger's lizard-like companion's wizened eyes resolved to a considerably less suspicious gaze. He took a moment to suspend his disbelief at the sight he was witnessing before clearing his throat to speak.

"I'm t-terribly sorry to trouble you, but I seem to be stranded with no food or water," he laboriously choked out, still parched and nervous, "perhaps I could accompany you back to civilisation?"

The stranger and his companion looked at each other for a moment before bursting out into laughter at the sight they beheld.

"WHAT'S A NOBLE DOIN' FISHIN' THIS FAR SOUTH OF HIS MANSION!?" The stranger bellowed as they both laughed hysterically.

"ARE YOU HERE TO COLLECT MY HOUSE PAYMENT OR SOMETHING BAHAHAHA," screeched the lizard man, wheezing as the words struggled to come out, his forked tongue protruding from his toothed — though not terrifyingly sharp — mouth.

The sheer terror that had engrossed his being vacated instantly, and, in its place, he felt slight vexation. Despite appearing as a potentially ferocious creature, the lizard-man emanated a distinctly human aura, and the fact that they were mocking his attire almost relieved him, but he was certainly annoyed.

"I am not a noble!" he exclaimed as he stamped his foot and crossed his arms, looking indignant.

"Sure look it though!" The stranger barked, giggling, "Wait, Wait, no, you're a noble's son ain't ya?"

"My father is —," he paused, "My father is with Our Lord now...he passed a year earlier. Certainly better there than here," he mumbled slightly bitterly on his last statement.

A look of remorse and slight confusion painted their faces. They seemed to understand that his father — and he did not necessarily mind — had passed away, but they were not privy "Our Lord."

"I see...so what are you then, a knight?" Inquired the stranger, "You talk like one...a little young but..."

"LOST! POSITIVELY LOST!" "THAT IS WHAT I AM!" He burst out, eyes wide and bloodshot.

An awkward silence soon followed, confusing the stranger and his companion again. Realising he just screamed in the face of two people he had never meant, he cleared his throat and addressed them formally.

"My apologies, I simply awoke in this wicked swamp with no recollection of previous events. I walked for hours before stumbling across the two of you" He paused, looking for the best way to phrase what he estimated was an unreasonable request.

"I humbly request that you let me accompany you back to safety."

Before the stranger could open his mouth, he was interrupted by a boy frantically trying to restore his dignity.

"Oh! Pardon my impropriety! I have not introduced myself. I am —" He stuttered.

"Settle down son! We don't mind if you tag along," He interrupted reassuringly, "This ain't a place for a kid to get lost after all," whispering as he reached into his pack, pulling out a spherical translucent glass jug which came to a neck at the top,

"You look thirsty, boy."

The stranger held the container out, and the wretched looking boy greedily snatched it away, trying fruitlessly to hide his desperation. He pulled the cork and gulped down the water, keeping eye contact with the stranger as if he were about to address him; but he just kept drinking. Feeling satisfied and a little embarrassed, he pulled the jug away from his mouth, offering the jug back to the stranger with two hands.

"So uh," the stranger looked him up and down, "how old are ya?"

"Seventeen...sir," the boy said apologetically.

"See! I knew he was just a kid. Oh! And what's your name, son?"

"Hum—," He choked up, thinking they might laugh like before at his rather quaint name, "Davy. Just Davy."

"Well, Davy, I'm Seamus, and this is my partner Rico,"

Rico nodded at Davy amiably.

"We're headed to the capitol, but we're stoppin' in Flanders for a bit before headin' back out."

He turned towards Rico.

"Did you get all the water?"

"Yep. Should be enough till Flanders." Rico replied, looking satisfied.

"Alright, lets git."

They both turned and walked upstream. Davy stood there frozen in place, pondering the events that had just taken place.

"I woke up with no recollection of how I got here, strolled for hours through a vaporous forest I barely knew existed, encountered a stranger and his LIZARD-MAN companion who kindly offered me a drink and a place in their caravan; and now I have set sail on an odyssey in the land of imagination! My mind cannot possibly break further!"

A few paces ahead of Davy, Seamus and Rico realised they were not being followed and turned their heads around.

"You comin' Dav?" He shouted, spooking the boy subdued in his thoughts.

"Y-Yes!" Davy cried, snapping out of his trance, and hastily catching up to the two men.

#

He peered up the riverbank, the twilight sun had already left, but its autumn hues yet lingered beyond the tree line; and before him was a bog of uncertainty and fear; a slough of despond...

"Not, I'll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;

Not untwist—slack they may be—these last strands of man"

Note: This is the first piece of work I have ever produced, let alone fan fiction. I have the thematic elements of the story planned out along with a few specific plot points. The thematic elements will be more subtle going forward, but I hope that the reader will be able to appreciate them. The poem at the end is an excerpt from Gerard Manley Hopkins's Carrion Comfort. If you couldn't tell, the main character is based off of a certain historical man, but he is only a child here. There will be subtle clues about his identity, so you should be able to figure out who he is. I will be paying strict attention to the Re: Zero world map for reference.

I hope you enjoy.