The Fall

Frellon was in shock. Throughout the Fall, he had been ridged, seemingly unable to comprehend what was passing before his eyes. Father was afraid. Something actually rivaled his power. That wasn’t possible, that COULDN’T be possible! Upon reaching the ground, he promptly fell onto his back, his eyes still fixed upon the disk as he watched it fill with blood. Even as the sun rose, and he could no-longer see it, he still stared into nothing. This simply couldn’t be happening.

What stirred him at last was hunger. A gnawing scraping on his innards that refused to leave him alone. With agonizing slowness, Frellon sat up and looked around himself, numb, after hours of lying in the tall grass.

He was on some sort of plain, with golden, wavy strands of grass as far as he could see, until he turned around and beheld the forest. Barely a stones throw from where he sat, a wall of foliage met his gaze. Foliage this thick meant the wild, the wild, meant the Disk.

The Disk.

Frellon sprang to his feet, coming to the realization for the first time. He was on the disk! Filled with monsters of cruel and unimaginable horrors! He reached for his sword, and pulled it from its sheath. It was flimsy, but ornate. The heat of the fall had singed it, and him, but they both seemed to be holding up. Paranoia shoved Grief and Shock aside, and Frellon quickly decided that the plains were far too open. Without another glance behind him, he entered the cover of the forest, and the sky was lost to him.

After a few days of not meeting any other living creatures, Frellon’s paranoia had diminished, with little but memories of lectures to sustain it. What kept him going now was the hunger that threatened to kill him. He had to find a source of food, and fast.

Eventually, Frellon realized that he was a fool, bumbling about the forest, he made so much noise over the last day that animals for miles around must have heard him and fled. Partially because of his aching feet, Frellon decided that he would let prey come to him instead, so he climbed a tree and waited.



An hour past, and Frellon heard his first bird sound. It was far off, and above him. It seemed to be a signal, for the forest slowly came to life, as he motionlessly waited. Birds could be heard calling to each other and sweeping from tree to tree, small animals scurried across the forest floor, only to vanish into the brush. Still Frellon waited, he was painfully aware of just how slim his chances of catching a bird were. He was waiting for a different opportunity.



Most of the day went by and Frellon felt his strength finally begin to wane, his opportunity showed itself. A small animal, no taller than his knee, trotted into view below him. It was Canine, but matted with many layers of fur. As he watched, it snuffed around the bases of trees, as if searching for something. Part of Frellon’s mind bid him wait, as he might find a source of food by observing this creature, but the hunger was too great, and it drove him from the tree with his sword outstretched. He fell silently, with no battle cry, swinging the sword.

The Wolf-like creature’s head toppled to the forest floor with a gurgle and a spray of blood. A nearby bird shrieked, and the whole forest went eerily silent, but Frellon was too elated to care. Lacking a fire, he tore apart the animal’s carcass with his bare hands, feasting like an animal. He had gone a week without sleep, food, or water, aside from the dew he had been able to lick from the trees, and ate until he could eat no more.

Finally satiated, he leaned against the nearest tree and tried to sleep, but found he could not. His immediate needs taken care of, he tossed and turned as his thoughts turned to the fear in his father’s eyes. As Frellon lay there in the dark, drifting off to dream of nothingness, tears finally rolled down his face, washing away the blood of his kill.



Sunlight broke through the branches above him, brushing his face and awaking Frellon from visions of doom and despair. With the morning came the hunger again, and Frellon wasted no time finishing off what was left unspoiled of the animal. Retrieving his sword, he realized that it had apparently broken., the top half had shattered, likely due to it’s impact with the tree’s root, after it had cut through the thing’s neck. Sad that he had lost his weapon, even if he had known it wouldn’t last long anyway, he tossed the near useless hilt aside. Then he examined his surroundings again. Oddly enough, the forest was dead silent, even though he had been carful and made no noise. Shrugging, he knelt once more before the carcass, hoping to make tools out of it’s bones.

A snarl, behind him.

Turning, Frellon had just enough time to realize that he faced something very similar to the thing he had just killed- but it was massive, almost bigger than Frellon himself- before it slammed into him and sent him flying into a tree. Somewhere, he heard a bird’s gutteral laugh. Frellon did not have the luxury of minding the bird though, as the creature was sinking its claws into his shoulders as he stuck his arm between its teeth to prevent it from tearing out his throat. His vision was turning red. Was this how he would die? Alone, mauled in some random forest on the disk? The creature, unable to get at his throat, was busy tearing into the rest of him with its fore-claws, when there was an impact. Frellon could feel the vibration from something striking the creature travel into him through his arm and chest. The creature paused, more impacts followed. It stood, snarled at something Frellon could not see, and left, Frellon seemingly forgotten. Frellon’s blood was pouring from his body, and his vision was fading. The last thing he saw as it left him completely was the creature being surrounded by booted feet, and blood that wasn’t his spattering the ground.