The makeshift flute was still in my hands, and I couldn’t help but blow into it again. Just a soft note, barely more than a whisper, but I felt it. Like a tiny thread tying me to the world around me.

  I leaned back, staring up at the blue sky. Birds circled lazily overhead, far enough away to not be threatening but still close enough that I kept an eye on them. I wasn’t about to get ambushed by some kind of dive-bombing hawk.

  Though strangely as attack-happy as the wildlife seems to be, the birds really seem normal. I will still keep an eye on them, though.

  The flute sat loosely in my lap, and I picked it up and rolled it between my fingers.

  I realized that my shoes and socks were still wet from gathering the reeds earlier. I really should let them dry out as I played with my new toy, the large rock I had been sitting on them would be a good place to lay them in the sun. I pulled my hiking boots and socks off, setting them to the side at an angle where the light could get to them. After that little task was completed, I stuck my bare feet into the edge of the lake.

  The water was cold and clear, and it immediately felt better than I expected. The silt squished between my toes, but it was kind of soothing. My body was still healing, but the cold water helped with the soreness where it touched my wounded calf. The ripple of the current, the sunlight warming my back, the mountains in the distance…this could be a commercial for diabetes medication. Too bad I didn’t have someone narrating how free and unrestricted I was now.

  I began to play with my flute more, seeing what other songs I was able to coax out of it. I was not feeling as adventurous when I tried the Beatles before. I started going through well-known childhood classics such as “Happy Birthday” and “Yankee Doodle”.

  It was when I was going through “Ring-Around-the-Rosy” that I noticed it.

  The water changed.

  Just a tiny shimmer, like something had moved. I leaned forward, staring into the clear surface.

  Fish.

  Small ones, maybe six inches long, darted beneath the water. They weren’t unusual, just your basic pond fish, probably larger versions of the minnows I had fed the squirrel and rabbit leftovers to. But they weren’t swimming right; they kept listening to one side and the other.

  They looked drunk.

  My eyes widened.

  No way.

  I put more of my legs in the water and blew a short note, repeating the dark children's melody. Now that I was looking for it I could feel a subtle vibration traveling down my body and into the lake.

  Several of the fish jerked in response. One rolled onto its side, then floated for a second before darting away again.

  Yeah…I think I did that.

  Carefully, I stood, wading ankle-deep into the water. Several of the fish darted away but most stayed. I played another note, this time willing it to be aimed toward the water’s surface.

  This time, one of the fish floated right to the top and just… stayed there.

  I leaned forward and scooped it up with both hands before it snapped out of it. It wriggled once in my grip but didn’t escape.

  I had just… caught a fish.

  With music.

  Some kind of song-sonic-fish-trance?

  The fish flapped lazily in my grip, and it seemed to be recovering from whatever had affected it. Realizing this would probably be my next meal I gave its head a slab against the rock and it stopped struggling.

  I know. Gross.

  But I needed calories, and protein was the best place to find that no matter where it came from. I might not have been a super outdoorsy guy, but I had seen enough survival shows and YouTube videos to know I needed to take meals where I could get them. I walked over to my fire, and there were still embers glowing and I placed more scavenged wood on the fire. As the wood began to catch fire, I moved my cooking rock close to the fire to start warming up.

  I walked back to the lake, the fish on the rock where I left it.

  I stepped back into the lake and began the tune again to see if I was able to catch more fish.

  It took a minute or two for the effect to kick in, but soon I spotted another fish bobbing to the surface about 25 feet away. I waded out and grabbed it up, and laid it next to the other fish after smacking it against the rock.

  Proceeding like this, I was able to get 12 of the tiny fish. At that point, all the other fish must have learned to stay away as I seemed to stop catching any more.

  Sitting down next to the small pile of fish, I pulled out my keys and began gutting the fish. It was difficult with my keys not having a real edge and with the smaller size of the fish, but I was able to gut and behead the fish to a point where I was satisfied.

  The fire had caught by now, and the rock seemed to be warm enough to start cooking on it. I placed all of the gutted fish on top of the rock, hearing the sounds of the meat popping as it connected with the heat.

  After a bit, I began to smell the aroma of cooked fish, though admittedly the smell was off compared to the smell of typical fish, more like boiled. I moved the fish with my trusty keys to another rock to cool.

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  I proceeded to eat the fish, skin and all. I had to suck around the little bones to get the meat off. It had to be one of the worst meals I had ever eaten, even cooked the meat was slimy. With no seasoning, the only description I have for taste “algae-like”. Even trying to choke it down I had dry heaved several times, and afterward I could feel the bubbling signs of indigestion.

  I needed to clear my head.

  After everything with the fish, the flute, and the weird vibrational magic that I still barely understood, I was beginning to feel like a bottle of soda that had been shaken one too many times.

  Too much pressure. I had to get out of my head before I exploded.

  What was my long-term plan? Depends on what the heck is going on in this place people-wise. Maybe there were cities here and I could make a home there playing my dizzy fish song. Maybe I was the first person yanked here and I will have to play Grizzly Adams for the rest of my life.

  Slipping my shoes and socks on I started walking with no real destination. Just moving my feet and letting the gentle rhythm of my steps do something about the buzzing mess in my brain.

  The air in the valley was clean. The kind of air that hadn’t been polluted by six hundred years of industry and microwavable food. Every breath I took made me feel a little more grounded, like the residual panic clinging to me from the last day was finally starting to melt away.

  I wandered toward the edge of the forest. After scanning for attack creatures, I found myself feeling brave and considered going in. Realistically, I would have to go in at some point. There was not any pain from my wounds, and I had my metal water bottle as a weapon to use in the worst case.

  I decided to try crossing but not go in too deep, maybe 10-20 feet. Picking a tree about that distance I walked toward it, slowly and as quietly as possible while trying to make as little noise as possible.

  As soon as I entered the shade of the trees, I felt the shadows cool my face. I realized that I had basically been exposed to the sun after being in the glade for a day now and hadn’t felt any effects of sunburn. That was really strange, after about 4 hours of being in the sun without any type of sunscreen people started making “boiled lobster” jokes around me.

  Had I been healing fast, could the increased healing be offsetting the sunburn?

  Oh well, let's put a pin in that. A question if I ever find someone to talk to here.

  The forest itself was quiet. Birds called out now and then, and leaves rustled in the occasional breeze, but there was a stillness here that felt designed.

  That’s when I saw it.

  A squirrel.

  This one looked calm. Normal. Perched on a branch about 60 feet deeper into the forest, twitching its tail and nibbling on something. I froze, half-expecting it to launch at me like the nipple-ripping maniac from the other day.

  But it didn’t.

  It just sat there going about its day. Doing squirrel things.

  Pretty sure it hadn’t seen me.

  I felt myself relax and slowly start to back up.

  Wait. This may be a good opportunity to test out the song on something other than fish.

  If I could just make my way through the forest playing the dizzy song, I’m pretty sure I could make it wherever I needed to go.

  I laughed internally, picturing myself walking with my flute as squirrels fell from the trees around me.

  Curious now, I slipped the reed flute from my belt and raised it to my lips. I didn’t plan to play anything dramatic. Just a few experimental notes. A quick test to see what would happen.

  The squirrel’s ears perked up, but it didn’t bolt or go all creepy still.

  Okay. So far, so good.

  I took a deep breath and played the opening few notes of that dizzy tune. It was shaky and off-key, but it carried the same rhythm I had used at the lake.

  But something wasn’t right.

  The tone was off, and the connection wasn’t forming the same way. I could feel it, like the difference between speaking into a microphone and whispering through a pillow. My fingers fumbled slightly, trying to adjust mid-play.

  That’s when the squirrel screamed and jumped off the branch, hitting the ground, and sprinted right at me.

  “Ah—nope! NOPE!”

  I turned and sprinted, legs pounding against the forest floor

  Behind me, the squirrel shrieked its murderous little war cry, bounding through the underbrush like a predator with nothing to lose.

  I hit the glade’s edge and exploded into the open like I was diving for home plate.

  A few moments after my feet hit the grass, and the squirrel went silent.

  I skidded to a halt and turned around.

  There it was, frozen just at the tree line.

  It didn’t chase me any farther. Didn’t cross into the glade. Just sat there, glaring. Well, as much as a squirrel could glare.

  Its beady little eyes were locked on me with a kind of focused hatred that made my skin crawl. But it didn’t move.

  “Huh,” I said between gasps. “So… that’s a thing.”

  After a minute, my breathing started to settle, and I began piecing things together.

  This confirmed that the glade had to be some kind of a protected zone. A safe space. Creatures didn’t enter it on their own, and they couldn’t attack from within it. I had left the glade earlier, and that was when the squirrel had struck. But now? Now I was inside, and it was out.

  It was like an invisible wall, one that they couldn’t cross.

  Unless…

  I pulled the flute back out and stared at the squirrel.

  Might as well test a theory while I have the chance.

  This time, I didn’t just blow into the flute for the hell of it. I focused.

  I thought about what I was doing. I concentrated on the feel of the vibration, the subtle shift of pressure against my lips, the airflow through the reed.

  I calmed myself.

  Took a breath.

  And blew.

  A soft note drifted through the air. Gentle. Controlled.

  And the squirrel lost its mind.

  It launched itself through the air, teeth bared, claws out, aiming straight for my face.

  I yelped and ducked. The thing smacked into my shoulder, bounced off, and landed in the grass. The little fucker didn’t hesitate, it came at me again. Screaming.

  I dropped the flute and swung my water bottle.

  The hit connected with a sickening thwack and sent the squirrel sailing through the air, landing with a thud a few feet away. It tried to scramble back up, but I was already there. My foot came down.

  The squirrel went still.

  A familiar blue notification box popped up in my vision.

  After a minute of panting and mentally replaying everything, I thought through what I’d just confirmed.

  The glade was safe. Forest creatures wouldn’t attack someone inside it unless provoked. But once provoked, once I somehow engaged they could retaliate. Even inside the glade.

  It seemed that if they were already in attack mode, if whatever they were attacking crossed into the glade, they would stop. But they could continue to attack if they were provoked from that point on.

  It wasn’t perfect immunity. More like…conditional protection.

  And my flute? I definitely had put power into it. I probably just didn’t fully understand how to use it yet.

  Or being a cobbled-together thing it just wasn't up to the task.

  I sat up and looked down at the squirrel’s body. At least I was getting better at fighting them.

  Sort of.

  Pretty sure I’ve never heard any fantasy stories about someone and their club water bottle.

  Still breathing heavily, I pulled the tiny squirrel's body over to the side of the glade and made a note to cook it later. I might as well take every calorie I could get.